219. Inauguration

“Namaste”, the person greeted me in a typical Indian way; though he was surrounded by crowd.By reflex action, I too greeted him, but I did not know him. So I asked a stranger sitting next to me, “who is he?”

“You don’t know him?” he was surprised. Naturally, because it appeared that the person was the chief guest of the program. “He is our MP (Member of Parliament)” he explained. 

I could immediately understand why the MP greeted me. In the pavilion, we were only two women. The other woman was the Chief Executive Officer of the district, she was on the stage with the MP and he obviously knew her. I was sitting in the crowd; talking to people; taking photographs and writing important points in my notebook. Because of camera and notepad, people always assume that I am a journalist. Today, even the MP assumed so. That must be the reason of his greeting. 

The MP was curiously looking at me simply because he was unable to locate me in his memory. He called someone and asked him something. This person asked another person. I had no work, so I was watching the chain of communication. As expected, a person sitting to my right asked whether I was a journalist. Knowing that the answer would finally reach the MP, I briefly explained my identity – not in a spiritual way but mundane! I watched the message travel back and noted that the MP considered me a citizen with no nuisance value. 

I was in a small village in Rajasthan, in an inauguration of road construction under the Prime Minister Rural Road Scheme. No, I had no direct or even indirect connection with this scheme. However, while traveling into remote areas, have always seen lack of ‘Road, Electricity and Water’ as the key barrier to Development. Especially in the absence of a good (or even functional) road connectivity girls and boys have to drop out of school; sick people do not get timely and adequate treatment; vegetables are thrown or used as fodder for animals because they cannot be taken to the market – one can only imagine what the villagers must be thinking in such situations. I have favorable opinion about this scheme and I had never attended its inauguration – so I was excited with this opportunity. 

When we left the highway, and turned to left, this suddenly was visible – allover. The crop of Mustard looks so beautiful.  

Since it was a Government program, we were moving in a large convoy of cars. On the way, everybody in the villages stopped doing whatever they were doing and looked in bewilderment to the passing cars.

We again turned to left and I saw an empty pavilion. First I thought it must be for a marriage ceremony. Later I realized that it was the venue of the inauguration program. 

We crossed the pavilion and continued to travel by a road, which was a typical village road. I saw lot of men smoking in a relaxed way.  It had rained recently, so there was no work in the farm. Because of rain, winter had become more severe. Our car stopped at a palatial house. A well dressed, English speaking person, about 55 years old, received us. He was one of the senior officers in Delhi and this was his native village. A small villager person being in a distinct and prestigious position in the Capital of the Country was a journey worth appreciation. 

Within couple of minutes I realized that the PMGSY road that was to be inaugurated passed the house of the official. In fact the road was being constructed to make his home coming comfortable. Many senior government officers were present and listening to their discussion was very educative. Quality of cement, inter-locking tiles, load taking capacity of the road, the arrangement and space for taking into consideration the need of local farmers to put irrigation pipes across the roads … the senior engineers and experts were discussing a lot. I am not sure whether all roads are constructed by taking into consideration all these quality aspects.

After the round of tea, the servant of the house arrived with another tray full of something. It attracted my attention because none from our group picked up anything (and secondly the servant did not offer me). The servant went amongst the large crowd waiting in the front yard. I took this photograph when he returned.  

A lot is being spoken about the “dangers of smoking” – all that is futile – I realized then and there. 

We went back to the pavilion. With the arrival of the MP, the place was overcrowded within no time.  Then one by one, many people spoke. Fortunately, all the speeches were brief, but they were informative. The progress of PMGSY in the state was presented and the numbers were overwhelming. For example, I remember one official telling the crowd that in last eleven years 8860 new roads were constructed. These roads together sum up to 34795 kilometers and was able to connect 10703 villages. Impressive, isn’t it? 

I could see the unknown faces in those unfamiliar villages and could imagine how their life could have changed because of these roads. There is a point in arguing about destruction of ecological system and all that – but why apply this parameter only to rural roads? They are lifelines for many. 

After the program was over, I saw many women standing behind. Whey they were not invited to join the main function?  Whey they are always invisible? I spoke to them for a while.

We consumed typical Rajasthani food – Daal Baatee and Churama Laddu.

By the time we started for Delhi, the pendal was in the process of removal. Only the tablet of inauguration remained there. 

Will this PMGSY road be ever constructed, or it will always remain inaugurated – I wondered. 

May be this one will come into reality – because it is a native place of a senior government official. And since his brother lives in this village, the officer regularly visits this village. 

However, I am aware that all those roads whose plan is “inaugurated” are not lucky enough to come into Reality!  They die premature death!
* *

202. From Narmada Valley ... (2)

Part (1)

Myth of Rehabilitation

For many years I have been reading (and listening to) about ‘Zero balance’ in Rehabilitation –meaning 100% households are rehabilitated. From experience I have learnt to assume a certain percentage of success of any reported success – however even those assumptions failed here. In Madhya Pradesh 193 villages are in submergence area – out of that in 150 villages people are still living as they do not have any option. “When Government reports ‘Zero balance’, it is not only a lie but we are treated like a non-entity” remarked one villager sadly. Chota Badada, Pipari, Pichodee, Kadmal, Khaparkheda, Bhitada, Bilgaon …. Villages are different, districts are different, states are different – but the situation is the same. Farmers rejecting cash and demanding ‘land for land’ compensation; people living in the fear of floods; people visiting courts regularly in the hope of justice; people changing together “aamu aakhaa ek se” (we all are One) and “ladenge – jeetenge” (we will fight and win) – keeping alive the hope.

Initially Madhya Pradesh government had asked people to “accept money (as compensation for land) and manage your life” – but people have rejected this policy. When people insisted on “land for land” – they were shown on which farming was not possible. In some villages people have planted and cultivated crops on “Krishi Seva Kendra” land (a government property) and distributed the crop among them.

With many such efforts finally Madhya Pradesh government accepted the demands and 21 families have been given land (five acres each) at Khalbujurg. 10 families from Pichodee and 11 families from Bhadal have received land. When we visited the place the farm was filled with green Soybean. The success of these 21 families has motivated large number of people in the area. Even though farmland has been provided, these families are yet to receive land for construction of house. In Khalbujurg nine to ten families are sharing one residence.

This is Khalbujurg Rehabilitation

This residence is shared by 9 or 10 families. Is this proper and adequate rehabilitation?

Prior to this, in 2000, nine families from Bhitada (the village has more than 300 families) was given five acres of land (each family). The distance between Pichodee and Khalbujurg is about 150 kilometers. Out of 700 + families in Pichodee only 11 have received ‘land for land’ – this clearly speaks about status and speed of rehabilitation. According to Madhya Pradesh government, 5257 families are affected by dam and need to be rehabilitated. All these will need land for construction of house; and there are 10000 landless families, which need to be allotted land for construction of house. The quality of construction is another issue.

How many families are affected by dam and need to be rehabilitated? The numbers are not clear. The number 5257 (of the families affected by dam) accepted by Madhya Pradesh government does not include “adult sons”. It is all a number game. For example, Bhitada was submerged in 2006. But the “cut off” year for Bhitada is 1993. So the minor sons in 1993 are still treated as part of the same family in 2006. Government has not considered the reality that the sons will grow up, they will marry, they will have progeny, and they will need a separate house …..So, for many villages the land for necessary rehabilitation is not available.

Even for declared number of affected families by state government, there is no sufficient provision. In Kadmal – Khaparkheda there are 700+ families. The plan is to rehabilitate them into eight different locations. So according to local people, government is not only drowning their village, but it is also destroying their relations with the community. One village getting divided into eight different locations means people have to leave behind their relatives and support groups. People are not sure that they will be accepted and provided support by the villages they would be rehabilitated into. If government discusses with people, even these eight groups can be properly re-arranged. But for many government officers ‘discussion’ means ‘they speak and others accept’ – this must have happened here as well is my guess.

I came across a very interesting term while discussing rehabilitation with the local people. They were easily talking about ’60 meter wale’, ’70 meter wale’ ’80 meter wale’ ….. “80 meter wale” means people/families expected to be rehabilitated before the dam reaches the height of 80 meters, “70 meter wale” means people/families expected to be rehabilitated before the dam reaches the height of 70 meters and so on.  People accused that “even when ‘80 meter wale’ families are not yet habilitated, governments (state governments) are claiming “Zero balance” (meaning nobody remains to be rehabilitated, 100% rehabilitation complete), providing affidavit in courts (since 2008), the dam height was increased up to 122 meters. I was amazed by the knowledge local people had about this situation. Now villagers at least want the height to remain at 122 meters and not to increase it. But I wonder why Government hurried to say that the rehabilitation is 100% complete. With the experience of working with Governments, I know that government is no more a “welfare” institution or mechanism – but how can it work against welfare of its own people?

 Sand Mining: a new way of looting

Next morning we went to Pichodee. Andolan has stopped illegal mining in this village by demonstrations and stopping the sand filled trucks and sending some of the culprits to the jail. In our group there was substantial discussion on “Sand mining”. Some of us argued: to construct new buildings we need sand. If we stop sand mining altogether development will stop and it would possibly create ecological imbalance. (In short the question was: why are you always against development?) The most important question we hardly discuss is: why only a certain group of people have to pay the price for development of others? Why one has always to renounce and others always get fruits (i.e. facilities) of development? So, we kept on discussing these two perspectives. We had discussion on what is legal sand mining and what is illegal sand mining.

As Pichodee village in the submergence area of Sardar Sarovar, it is under Narmada Control Authority; local authorities are not entitled to provide permissions for sand mining. That means the whole field is open to those who have connections.

When we reached the banks of Narmada in Pichodee, we realized how destructive illegal sand mining could be. No theories were necessary; no convincing was required as we stood on the spot. Words lost its meaning and only a feeling of destruction was around us.

Looking at all the three photographs, one realizes how deep is the river and how the illegal sand mining has allowed the river to rush in. The line of water at the back is Narmada. The green patch at the height is the land level – that was two months ago. The photographs show how deep the mining was done. These photographs were taken when it was not raining – you can imagine how devastating it would be in monsoon. Narmada rushes in bringing in huge volumes of water – she is like a Sea then. She has taken all the silt with her and deposited it in Sardar Sarovar. It is not fault of Narmada – it is the fault of human beings who are playing with the river.

Like the canal story, the illegal sand mining is seen for miles. There are alliances across political affiliations, involved in this destruction. One wonders whether the police are taking action against the sand mafia. 

To be continued ...

199. From Narmada Valley ....(1)

I have been reading Marathi monthly Andolan  for last few years and hence I am aware of the issues related to “Sardar Sarovar”. I had an opportunity to interact with dam affected people in Gujarat and Maharashtra. In May 2012, I visited Narmada district, Sardar Sarovar and had interaction with government officials. During that visit I felt the need to visit Dam affected area once again; but with someone who has been part of People’s Movement. So, when in the second week of August I received an invitation to join “Narmada Valley Journey”, without thinking for a moment, I registered myself.

On the morning of 17 August, we reached Khalghat, where 50 other friends from various places like Delhi, Patiala, Indore, Rajasthan, and different parts of Maharashtra joined. It was heartening to see so many youngsters who are already involved in making social change and were ready to learn about new issues. We were also accompanied by four journalists and the discussions continued for the next three days. Medhatai (Medha Patkar) was always ready to answer any questions and that made the group to keep on asking questions and generate learning. For the first two days we visited areas in Madhya Pradesh and on the third day visited areas in Maharashtra. We were not able to visit Gujarat but learnt about the situation there through discussions.

During these three days, from the interaction with various villagers and volunteer activists of NAPM (National Alliance of People’s Movement), following five points emerged and were underlined.  

1.  Even when Governments are claiming that the rehabilitation in Sardar Sarovar affected area is complete, in reality this is not the case.

2. The benefits of Sardar Sarovar are much lesser than was the projection and expectation.

3. In Sardar Sarovar affected area in Madhya Pradesh, a canal network is being implemented. For canals, land is being acquired; rehabilitation is not planned and corruption is rampant.  

4.  Narmada is witnessing a massive illegal sand mining; which  is causing havoc in the adjoining villages. These villages are rehabilitated on paper – but actually they are living villages. The silt Narmada is carrying into Sardar Sarovar is certainly going to reduce life of the dam.

5.   Villages which in reality are not yet rehabilitated face issues like lack of roads, lack of access to health services, lack of education, and lack of safe drinking water – in short, lack of basic necessary amenities.

Mystery of Canals

We started our journey together from Khalghat. This is a city on Mumbai- Agra highway and an important junction on the banks of Narmada. This area is almost 200 kilometers away from Sardar Sarovar. I knew that whatever I observe in this area, the situation would be much worse in the areas nearer to the dam.  Khalghat is also an important location for Narmada Bachao Andolan. Fifteen villages in the vicinity of Khalghat are going to be submerged. In 1990, residents in the area had stopped the traffic on this highway for 28 hours ( Rasta Roko as a protest). People also told us about Tractor Rally they had organized. The movement has used various innovative and non-violent ways to register their protest for their rights.

Mr. Dayaram Patel informed us, “On 4^th July this year, the canals broke in Badwah block and about 500 acre agricultural land and houses were under water for considerable time.” Recently on 14^th August, Gram Sabhas were conducted and one of the agenda was to take a decision about “Whether people want canals.” I do not know how such an important issue could be decided on a sort of voting without having a comprehensive discussion on the issue. Why these canals? Who is going to be benefited by these canals – I was wondering.

Then we travel to Amalatha in Khargon district and the canals we see shocks us. At a glance we could see a canal which is broken at ten different spots. We walked (with local people) for about one and half kilometers and the scene was ruthlessly repeated.

This was Main Left Canal of Omkareshwar dam. Its length is 15687 meters. As I said, what we saw in couple of kilometers, gave us idea about what could be the status of the canal. Later in the villages Nandra and Chota Badada (where the meeting went on till 9.00 pm), people passionately talked against these canals. For the last 28 years they are fighting for their rightful existence; for saving their village, their land, their home from the effects of Sardar Sarovar. That struggle is not over yet; and another struggle is imposed on them. Why the same community has to renounce their resources for the development – whose fruits will be enjoyed only by others?

Listening to people was disturbing. The plan canals for Omkareshwar and Indira Sagar dams will need 1000 hector of land and about 1100 villages will be affected by it in various ways. What I found irritatingly interesting was that the command area of these canals is the same area which is going to be submerged in backwater of Sardar Sarovar. Why a submerged area would need canal water for “surface irrigation”? Provision of “drinking water” is another purpose of these canals – but why do we need canals for drinking water for the area near the mighty river like Narmada? One villager said, “Half of our village has Sardar Sarovar backwater and half the village is covered by canals” – it sound ridiculous but in fact it is more serious as the canal planning is completely misguided and based on wrong assumptions.  What could be the purpose? Who is going to benefit by this?

Nandra villagers had another story to tell. They don’t want canal in their village (because they don’t need it!). When the contractor approached the village for canal construction, they asked him to complete the work in the earlier phase first. However as they opposed the work (this was sometime in March, around Holee), police arrested the local leaders of the movement, declared curfew (144 A); contractor brought 15 huge machines and the work in the village was complete overnight!  Listening to Lalubhai’s (a local protest leader) narration of this experience made me think about “what democracy is about”!  The canal is dividing lands, and in some cases the farmer has to walk for kilometers to approach his piece of land (divided due to canal) as there are no roads to cross canals. The government and contractors have neither consulted farmers before planning canal work nor do they bother to inform farmers in advance.

The quality (rather lack of it) of canal construction was obvious.

 It is clear that the alliance of government officials and contractors is ruthlessly working to increase their profit margin – at the expenses of local farmers.

Now both Omkareshwar and Indira Sagar dams do not enough water to release it in canals. The canals are destroyed by heavy rains. What will happen when the water is released in heavy rains? There is no system to manage drainage of overflowing canals. Those who are affected by canal work should be paid compensations – but nothing is being done in this regard.

It looks like local people get favorable judgments in the courts, but as the judgments are not implemented; the struggle does not end.

All the villages we visited on the first day; are still LIVING villages. Once Saradar Sarovar builds 17 meters Gates, all these villages will be vanished – they will be drowned. That thought made me feel extremely uneasy. We still can save those. Why government ends in planning schemes that are ultimately against its people – I fail to understand. The rosy picture of benefits of Sardar Sarovar has another side – and after seeing it one knows that for “India Shining” there are people who are paying the cost – the cost of their livelihood!

(To be continued)

184. Concern

Another day.
Another journey.

A roadside village.
As usual, I am late.
My work always gets delayed - because during discussions one point follows another.
They all are important points and we keep on discussing them.
That causes the delay.

However, I am not worried about this delay in reaching.
Because there is no meeting.
We are visiting two-thee households.
Recently our team has collected a specific data.
My job is to verify the information by visiting some number of  household.
A job easy from one point of view and difficult from another point of view.

The motorbike leading our car stops. The car too stops.
Two more persons are waiting for us.
We greet each other.
They walk in one direction, I follow.
It is afternoon time. Some people are sitting leisurely in the village, they watch us.
Some children are following us.
Women are watching from doors and windows.

We reach one house. I have to bend down to enter the house through that smallish door.
"Madam, this is a widow headed household," my colleague informs.

One of the aspects I am closely monitoring (the survey) is the data related to women.
Whether all women are women covered, whether women faced any difficulties during the survey, the importance of their participation in the process of finalizing the data ... I want to talk about all these points. So I am meeting women's Self Help Groups and also women headed households.

We enter.
A red colored carpet is waiting for us. It is so clean that it must be brand new.
"Sorry, we are late. We made you wait for us...." I start the dialogue.
"No problem. Please, come. Sit down, this carpet is for you .." the woman to my left welcomes me and my team.

That woman might be around 45.
In her left lap is a young girl sitting shyly. She must be just two years.
On her right side is another child, younger than the girl.
Another woman is holding the hand of the young boy. The woman looks young.
There is another woman sitting by the side of the young woman, her hand is on the back of the young woman as if to support her. She might be around 50.

I glance at the house. One room; bricks held together with cement, the tin roof.
A small cloth partition probably makes some space for cooking.
The family seems to be very poor as there is hardly anything in the house.
I turn back to the women.

They all look very tired.
Another glance tells me that they are not just tired but as if they are  weary of pain.
Suddenly the young woman starts crying.
Both the older women, sitting by her two sides are trying to console her.
In a flash I realize that all these three women with whom I am sitting are widows.

We talk.
The young woman has lost her husband in a road accident ten days ago.
What happened?
Motorbike accident.
Who was driving the bike?
Don't know.
By the time the family received the information, the young man had died.
Did they file police complaint?
No.
Where was he working?
They don't know the details.

The young woman is about 18-20 years.
She never went to school. She lost her father at a very young age, her mother had to work and she had to take care of her younger brother.

This young brother - about 10 or 12 years.He goes to school.
He is sitting in the corner without smile or without any expression.
The young woman has two children - a two year daughter and a younger son.

The woman sitting to the left is Mother in Law. She too is a widow.
Another young boy sitting there is 10 year old - who is the son of the sister in law (of the young widow). This boy's parents have passed away.

That means in this household there are three women - all illiterate and widow; two young boys studying in fifth or sixth standard and two very young children.

Do they own land?
Yes.
How much?
Don't know. Maybe half an acre.
Irrigation facility?
No, rainfed.
Who looks after the crops?
The young man - who had died in accident.
What do you cultivate?
Oh! Less than enough.

Any other income source?
No.
Do you have any papers?
No.
Ration card?
No.
Any death certificate?
No.
Anyone knows sewing?
No.

The mother of young widow tells me that she goes to work - some roadside work - to earn.
Does she have any papers?
No.
Aadhar card?
No.
BPL card?
It was there earlier, but their names were removed from the BPL list.
When? Why? How?
Don't know.
Anyone in Self Help Group?
No.

Any relatives in the village?
No.
Some relatives are in the nearby villages, they had come when the young man passed away.
However, they had to return to their village as they all are daily wage workers.

I am speechless.
I ask one of the accompanying government workers to find out possibilities whether at least one of these women can immediately receive Widow Pension.
He writes details in his notebook.
Will these women get any benefit of the government scheme?
I don't want to generate false hopes.

What do I do?
How do I console them when I know that words are not enough.

What will they eat?
How will they live?
The two boys go to school, but when will they grow enough to earn?
Will the existing education system allow them to earn degree or certificate?
Until then, how will the family survive?
What can I do for them?
And how many more such families are there?

We are leaving.
The young widow says, "Sister, I want to add one more name in the list (that was given in the survey."
I am startled. I keep quiet.
"I am carrying a baby, Can I write his name now?" she pleads.

Her concern is not over yet.
That will keep her burning until she is alive.

**

175. Two Minutes

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 29; the 29th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic for this month is 'TWO MINUTES'.

Veer Bhadra Sing is sitting in the courtyard. He is just sitting. He has been doing nothing else but sitting and waiting. The Sunlight is warm and he is enjoying it. It reduces the cold that is entering into his bones. He is waiting for what?

Since when is he sitting alone like this? For how long - he does not remember. It seems that for ages, he is just sitting there; waiting something to happen. If someone asks him ‘what he wants to happen’- he will not be able to say anything. He has not spoken to anyone for a long time. Rather he wants to talk to but there is no one around.

The other day some people came to his home and asked many questions. He could follow only half of them and could answer very few of them.  They were asking about his age. How could he tell that? He is old – that much anybody can see. He has lost his wife long ago and his two sons died due to some illness. His daughters (two? or three?) were married to boys in nearby villages but he has not seen any one of them lately. Have they all died? – He does not know. Now only two of his grandsons are there; who come to village occasionally. They never send him any money. Maybe, they too are poor like him- he thinks.

Those unknown people were also asking about his home, his land, whether he has TV and what not. He wondered whether they could not see themselves that he is poor and he is hungry. He has nothing in home to cook for. Earlier his neighbors used to give him a rotee and subjee – they in their own way used to take care of him. But now they too have grown old. Veer Bhadra Sing has not seen any of them for many days now. He is not sure whether they are dead or alive.

Hunger is spreading in his veins. He wants to eat something – anything. He closes his eyes. He smells Chawal and Daal. He smells hot rotee and his favorite baingan subjee. Aroma of hot tea hits his nostrils. His lips make an involuntary movement to sip that tea only to realize that he is sitting alone and hungry.

Everything around seems deserted at first glance. Then Veer Bhadra Sing realizes that he has lost his vision and hence cannot see what is happening around. He has not been able to hear anything. Maybe the world around is as colorful and as live as was in his young days – only his capacity to experience that world has diminished. Only if somebody spends two minutes with him now and then, things would change! But alas! Nobody seems to have two minutes to spare for him.

Suddenly Veer Bhadra Sing realizes that he is waiting for death. But the Lord of Death is a brute. He visits those who do not want him. And those who want him to come and pick them up, he invariably makes them  wait.

Veer Bhadra Sing feels helpless. He wants to die, he desperately wants to die.

***

“Sir, a case of hunger death”, Nitin calls his news editor.

“Well, what is it?” news editor has no time for more details.

“Sir, I am in village Ashoh, district Banda i.e. Chitrakut district in Uttar Pradesh. A man has apparently died of hunger.” Nitin continues.

“Man, cut it short. Tell me one thing. Is it significant?” News editor.

New editor has not time. He is working in a ‘cut throat competition’ environment. He is weary of this young generation recruits who think that media coverage can bring in social change.

“Sir, he was an old man. Apparently he was alone; nobody to take care of him.” Nitin is not stopping at all.

“Old man! What caste he belongs to?” news editor asks.

“Caste? Sir….. Well, I do not know.” Nitin is suddenly apologetic. “But Sir, this shows our apathy to old people. Does it mean once people cross their productive age; we should just let them die? What is government doing – with crores of rupees being spent on ‘old age pension’ scheme? What are NGOs doing? What is society doing?” Nitin continues.

“Listen Nitin. You have a 30 second byte”, News Editor is clear of his priorities.

“Sir.. but listen … “ Nitin wants to say something.

“If you get caste of the man, if you get political equations covered in right manner, you will get two minutes, two full minutes.” News Editor emphasizes.

“Come back to me in five minutes”, barks News Editor.

Nitin is aghast.

Two minutes!

Nitin thinks bitterly of his profession, of the insensitivity of his clan, of his compulsions to be part of the rat race, of his ruthlessness ….

He overcomes his weakness. This is an opportunity for him, he can’t waste it.

Nitin knows that two minutes’ byte would give him a break. He has to catch those worthy two minutes which might turn out to be the greatest moment in his short career. This will help him to grab better job.

He turns around to the crowd and throws questions at them.

The aim is clear: 

Make a story worthy of Two Minutes. 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

147. Parasite

Visit to Devaka village in Daman is depressing.

It is a village with beautiful seashore, many hotels and lot of recreation activities. However I did not go there as a tourist, but for work. The purpose of visit always opens another world to me; it exposes me to different reality. After every such visit, I see changes in my perspective - about life, about social situation, about my goal and about so many other things.  

We pass a deserted patch and come across many small houses – in a row. Most of the houses are locked but few men come outside to greet us. We start asking questions, they answer. I am watching the area. The houses are not well maintained. The rooms look dingy. I am not sure whether there is electricity and whether tap water is available – I don’t think they have these basic amenities. The men don’t at all notice the stinking smell – they are used to it.  

I remember my co-passengers talking about Daman as mini Goa. Lot of fun (and by fun they clearly meant drink), food (especially non-veg) and luxury.

In this small village, there are people from West Bengal, from Odisha, from Bihar, from Jharkhand, from Uttar Pradesh – from every corner of the country. In a small 10X8 feet kind of room at least 8 people stay together. They all work in nearby hotels – they work in different shifts – so the small room could be shared by people in two batches. When one batch is resting, another works and the first batch vacates the room for the second batch when they come “home” from duty. This is sort of “all men” habitat – no women except maybe the local ones – I spend more than half an hour there but I do not see a single woman.

I remember gardens in various towns and cities. I remember constantly watered lawns. I remember my morning walks in lush green Bangalore Golf Course. I remember the two clear blue swimming pools in the Thiruvananthpuram hotel. Life seems to be all green at no cost when I am at such beautiful places. But I forget to ask: how many of us can access these peaceful and beautiful places?

About 350 men do stay here together, they work together, they move together. It is like a family – a family with bonds that are created through work opportunities. Once in a year they visit their native village. They have lost the connection with their land, with their culture, with their people. Their parents, siblings, wife, and children – everybody is there in the native village. They see them only once in a year. They cannot bring them here with them as the space crunch makes the room rents very high. They cannot afford to pay such high rent. Do they feel lonely? I don’t know!

Well, you and me too leave our place and work somewhere else. We too are disconnected.  We also seem to have been caught in the same trap. But we are placed in a much better position – we can bargain, we can negotiate – if opportunity comes, we will migrate for better life. We are not here because we do not have options – we actually keep on exploring options.

Their eyes show no dream – there is only desperation to pull on life. They carve out some space to smile to laugh ………but they know it is rare.

My colleagues talk about new job, better salary package, about their ambition, about the competition, about keeping the management happy.

All the theories of urbanization, all the statistics that I have used so far rushes in my mind. To deal with theory, to analyze data is one thing. To face the hopelessness on the faces of so many human beings is very depressing.

Daman is ‘Developed’ – somebody was telling me just yesterday.

I see the other side of development. In-migrants in large numbers are contributing to the local economy – but what do they gain in the process?

I turn, I move. I live. I enjoy. My livelihood seems to enhance quality of my life.

But that does not seem to happen for these people. It seems that they get livelihood. But do they have good life to enjoy that livelihood?

The parasite is going to die one day – because it won’t be able to exploit the tree anymore.

Question is:  who is parasite?
Answer is: very clear if I choose to see. 

134. Clap: Artificial, Funny, Formal

It was a huge gathering of rural women.
Women from 10 different villages had gathered together.
Many of them were for the first time participating in such a huge event. They did not know about meetings, gatherings, lectures, guest speakers etc. They were all poor, middle aged, never had opportunity to see the larger world. Most of them had never been outside their village, had never seen pendal, had never known microphone.....
They were anxious, they were excited, they were curious, they were smiling.
They were clearly enjoying the event.
There were songs, quiz and competitions like 'Musical Chair' etc. Women had lot of fun. It was a happy environment.

And then as is the usual case, there was formal learning session.
Some well known social personalities were on the stage. They were to guide the gathering.
But even before that  some of the rural women were invited to the stage to share their experiences - about Self Help Groups, about their struggle, about their successes, about their challenges and about their hopes.

I like to be at the backstage, that is my strength. That is also because I generally easily get bored with the formalities that have to be carried on the stage with pomp and show. Generally it is so artificially funny, that I cannot sit on the dais with stone faced seriousness. So, I was sitting in the audience. Initially some of the women were little bit frightened to have me with them. But many of those women knew me well and were happy to have me with them instead of me sitting on the distant dais. With exchange of lot of spontaneous smiles and nods  from them and from me; we finally were set to listen to the speakers.

The experiences shared by those rural women - most of their were illiterate - were very touching and inspiring.
The dignitaries on the stage and some of the people sitting in the first rows clapped for the first woman speaker.
The women sitting around me exchanged hurried looks, I noticed that none of them actually clapped.

The second woman spoke and the sequence of the events was repeated - dignitaries and people in the first few rows clapping, the large gathering of rural women sitting quietly.

I did not understand what was happening.
Had we (the organizers) chosen wrong women to share the experiences?
But that did not seem to be the case, because their experiences were worth listening to, the stories were told with vigor,  honesty and simplicity.
But why these other women were not clapping?
Were they angry? Were they not  happy with the speech, the speakers, the content, the prestige some of them were getting?

I was not sure how to interpret the silence of that large crowd. Was it indicating some potential disaster?

No, the women  were smiling, they were in agreement with what their representatives were saying. I was getting more and more confused.

When the third woman's eloquence was met with silence, I spoke to the woman sitting next to me.
I asked, "Don't you like what she said? It is not true? Is it not the real story? Is it not the right kind of expression?"
Before the woman answered, another turned to me and asked, "Can you go to the dais and tell those learned and urban people not to clap?"

That was such a strange request that for a moment I was speechless.
"What do you mean?" I asked with a great courage.
"Why are they discouraging our women by clapping?" another woman asked me with visible irritation and anger.

I did not know why they thought that the dignitaries were discouraging their colleagues.
"They are not at all discouraging them. On the contrary they are appreciating your friends," I tried to explain.
"By clapping they are appreciating? That is what  you mean?" another woman was amused.
"Are you sure?" third one wanted the assurance.
The whole conversation was happening in a hushed tone but within moments it spread like a fire.

From almost every corner, women turned to me and smiled at me sheepishly, some even encouragingly, some with their faces glowing as if with a new light.
I was completely lost.

"Oh! We thought only when you don't like what somebody has said, you clap", another spoke in my ear.
I did not know why they had such a concept, from where they borrowed it or how they imagined it.
It could be only due to their lack of exposure to public life and social gatherings.

I do not know how the message was spread without speaking, without words .. but when the fifth woman spoke, at the end all the women clapped loudly - so loudly that even the dignitaries on the dais noticed that. Maybe for the first time they realized that the four earlier speakers were not greeted in the same way by the crowd. And the fifth woman looked stunned.

At the end of the function, one of the senior colleagues came to me and said, "That was well done, truly well managed, your backstage contribution is always noteworthy."
"What?" I asked, not knowing for what the appreciation was.
"Oh! For asking the women to clap properly, the silence was so embarrassing you know...." and  with a mild pat on my back, he moved on.

But since then whenever I see people clapping I ask myself - is it really appreciation? Or is it a relief that finally the speech has ended? Or is it just a formality? Is it just a norm? A stereotype? Do people clap only when they want to appreciate? Is there any spontaneity? Why do people really clap? When did the clapping start? How did people learn it? What if I don't clap but appreciate in some other way?

I am not sure whether I gave the right information to the women that day.
Somehow from that day. I find claps very artificial, funny and formal.

132. Tripurization: Part I

About a week ago, I knew only two things about Tripura. One: it is an Indian state; Two: Agartala is its Capital – thanks to my middle school Geography teacher!! When I received ticket for Agartala, I hurriedly browsed through Wikipedia and updated myself. Sometimes I wonder whether now I depend too much on Wikipedia; is it another kind of GranthapraamaNya (Unchallenged Authority of books)?

I am basically not an ‘information’ kind of person. I would certainly fail any and all General Knowledge tests. I value information. But there is too much of information around and one would never be able to say ‘I know completely’. Secondly, there are sources of information – books, websites, and people. You only should not feel shy about accepting your ignorance – then there are many sources. By experience I know that information is many time ‘fact interpreted’ by someone; so it carries biases. The way information is collected gives the form to information collected; and we can interpret the information the way we want.

While discussing the population size of Tripura, someone informed me that it is about 36 lakhs (3.6 million). Another person, who had been part of India Census 2011, immediately corrected him by saying, “actually it is 3,671,032”. Well, I was impressed by the accurateness, the efficiency, the enthusiasm and the memory of the person. But for my purpose, the difference of 71,032 was not very critical. I could understand that the population of Tripura was almost same as Pune.

After a weeklong stay in Agartala and visits to eight villages, I have gathered little information. Well, I now know that Tripura has four districts as I interacted with people from all these four districts. I now know that Tripura shares border with Bangla Desh, because I was on the border a few times. I know Bengali and Kokborok are the two official languages of Tripura – I saw official boards in these two languages. I know that Tripura was a Princely State as I saw the Palace of the then King. I know that Tripura has still not banned animal sacrifice in the temple, as I saw those spots in the temples I visited.

But there are still many things that I do not know about Tripura. What I have is: hundreds and thousands of impressions.

On the first evening, I went on walking alone through Agartala for an hour. It was a lovely walk, the evening was pleasant. Being Sunday evening, there was not much traffic on the road. Walking always shows things differently – from different angle, in slow motion. The city though strange, sounded familiar to me. It is a sort of hilly city – with roads up and down, bridges on river, and many ponds. It ridiculously reminded me of Dharwad – ridiculous because I have visited Dharwad only once.

Next morning, when I woke up, the Sun was already ablaze. I thought it must be 7.00. The wall clock in the room was ticking and showed 5.07. I thought the clock must be running behind. Then suddenly I realized that I was in the North East. I enjoyed the early Sunrise for the next few days.

However, the early rising of Sun does not ensure that people reach on time. They came late and they had all the excuses for reaching late. They went early and they had all the excuses in the world for leaving early. Whichever part we visit in India, some things are common; and this is one of those.

For long I have been fascinated by Bengali. Here I listened to it continuously; read shop boards on the way almost perfectly; picked up couple of ‘utility’ sentences like ‘tommara naama kee? “(what is your name); and listened to Bengali music. As I tried to make most of this opportunity to polish my Bengali- it was fun not only for me but for others too as I kept on committing silly mistakes. They had hearty laugh each time I asked something very preliminary. I never had an opportunity to learn Sanskrit formally, but I realized that Bengali has too many words which are close to Sanskrit. So I could make 2+2 and picked up many words in conversations. This could happen as I knew the context of the discussion – I have been fully into the subject that was being discussed. People were surprised when I answered the questions asked in Bengali without waiting for them to get translated. “If you stay here for a month, you would be able to speak Bengali well” – they gave me a certificate. I know people were just polite to me. Picking up a language is not so easy.

Tripura is surrounded by Bangla Desh on the North, South and West. National Highway no 44 connects Agartala to Mizoram and Assam. On the highway I saw many buses traveling towards Gohati. It takes about 30 hours to reach Gohati by bus, people told me. Agartala has a beautiful railway station. Silchar is the nearest junction which takes people to other destinations in India. I also was shown a train going towards Bangla Desh – but to which station it reaches, I do not remember. So, in short Tripura is connected with rest of the India only through East - to know that was indeed scary.

I traveled in West Tripura district and I liked the landscape of Tripura. For the first two days, the humidity was awful. People told me that about ten years ago, they did not need fans – now they need Air Conditioners. This has to do with climate change and also with the changing pattern of crops and trees. For example, Bamboo is making a way for Rubber. A huge rubber plantation can be seen on both the sides of roads and bamboo was seen only in remote areas. In Melaaghara, I had an opportunity to interact with members of a Bamboo Federation. This is a Federation of self employed workers who are engaged in making Bamboo products. They told me that the Bamboo prices are constantly rising – earlier they used to get on ‘Paavaraa’ bamboo for Rs. 10/- and now they have to pay Rs. 180/- for the same piece. They also told me that the bamboo cultivation area is diminishing due to rubber plantation.

I saw many fruits in the markets – jackfruit, pineapple, mango, banana, were available in abundance. Fish, meat and chicken are consumed a lot. At Heazemara, my car driver complained that food was not good. I asked him why and he answered that ‘it was cooked by Tripuri people and not by Bengalis’. There is no apparent tension in local tribes and Bengali communities now – but in many ways they are still different.

Tripura Legislative Assembly has 60 members – a very small assembly indeed. In February 2008, the Left Front came to power with 49 seats. Now as it is the only Left Front state in the country after the loss in West Bengal and Kerala in 2011 state assembly elections. The environment in Agartala seemed politically active... red flags across the roads and corner meetings at couple of places.

As Agartala is state capital and as the state is surrounded by Bangla Desh, the presence of Military is very noticeable in Agartala. I came across buildings indicating presence of Border Security Force (BSF), Tripura State Rifles (TSR), and Assam Rifles (AR). On my way to Teliamura I saw the board “For your tomorrow BRO is here” and was confused about who this BRO could be. Then I realized it was Border Road Organization.

Border was an important experience for me. I will write about it later – maybe in the next post.

For me the process of Tripurization has just begun.