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.

81. CAPITAL difference

The group, especially the children broke loose after listening to my sentence. Adult women were obviously caught in two minds, they did not want to insult their guest, but could not control their laughter. Children were not bothered about who they were facing, for them it was a moment for a hearty laugh and they were enjoying the moment fully.

I think I am either too out of the world (because I do not read daily newspapers and do not have TV at home) or I just love to get surprised. That is why everywhere I go, there are surprises for me. I was visiting Ranchi after three years and was surprised by many things. For example, the participation of 600 Akhadas in Raam Navamee festival with such a pomp and show was something I had never imagined about Ranchi. (The photo is taken two days after the festival, so no crowds in the photo!)

I was in a small hamlet named Bidpi Tolee, part of village Itki, just about 20 kilometers from Ranchi, the Capital of Jharkhand. Here I was, amongst women and children of Sarna tribe, who speak ‘Kurukh’ language. Later after internet search I realized that ‘Sarna’ is a religion practiced by Santhal tribes. (For further information visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tribes_of_Jharkhand).

Half an hour ago, prior to this meeting, I had learnt from Mantoran ( a local woman, who is working with us as Extension Worker, her life story is really inspiring) how to ask ‘what is your name?’ in Kurukh language. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kurukh) I had just asked “ninghaya naame enther heke?” to a child and that brought so much laughter to the whole gathering. Obviously, I had asked it all wrong, once again!

I met about 20 women and few children. The children attended a local school, which was a school for ‘school dropouts’. Most of the adult women had very small land, and after paddy cultivation work as laborers. They earn only twenty rupees as farm wage and 80 rupees if they are on a construction work – a lot of construction work is going on around the area. Women showed me a place about 2 kilometers away where there was a forest ten years ago and now not a single tree! For a hamlet of 50 families there is only one handpump.

All the families are poor. They are not able to speak Hindi, but understand my questions very well. They have a hard time while explaining their daily diet to me. They insisted that I should stay with them for couple of days, then they would be able to demonstrate me what they eat. Women were very happy to interact with me. They told me, that it was for the first time they were interacting with some outsider. They interact with relatives coming from outside, but it was their first interaction with a non-Sarna person. They have formed couple of Self Help Groups and we discussed that. I gave them information about bank linkage and government schemes. But more than that I wish they could spend some time together and learn few new thoughts and ideas. They like this idea of learning together.

I request the women to sing. They start discussing amongst themselves. It seems that their ‘star’ singer is not there. They are taking time. The girls who are at the sideline of the conversation till then decide to become proactive. They want to sing and without waiting for anyone’s permission they start singing. They sing a song about ‘Chala’ God. Their voice is beautiful, it resonates. The song is something like this: I go to East and I go to West, but I do not find Chala. I go to North and I go to South but I do not find Chala. I eat and sleep but I do not find Chala. I sing and dance, but I do not find Chala. The people try to find God, but they never find it, we are born, enjoy, live and die without understanding God… what a nice song!

It is time to leave. The women want me to spend some more time with them. But there is another meeting at Chund, a place 25 kilometers away. I have to, knowing that I may never meet these women again. I know I have learnt a lot from them but have not given them anything in return. I just take their group photo so as to remind me that such people and such life exists around me.

I approach Ranchi in the evening thinking about those simple women and kids. We are separated not just by twenty kilometers. We are separated by history, tradition, religion, education, opportunity, freedom. The life is not only different apparently but inherently.

There is a CAPITAL difference between the lives of people like us and the tribal people. Who is responsible for this might be a difficult question to ask. However, it is certain that it is our responsibility to bridge the gap by making everyone part of the development process.

65. Re-Charging

Sometimes I feel very tired. I am aware that it is more mental than physical state.

I have just returned after a week long travel to Indore, Bairasiya and Bhopal. I was there to facilitate two workshops on ‘Women Development’ which included Gender sensitization. For last many years I am conducting these workshops, in different states, at different locations, for different persons. When I look back at it, it seems that neither I am growing nor others are learning. It is like ‘teaching’ ‘a, b, c, d….’ to different groups. It is a mechanical, repetitive work without much scope for innovation and creativity. It is not only physically draining but psychologically frustrating because nothing seems to be happening. It does not seem to make any difference to anyone except me.

Whatever I do out of compulsion is mostly boring and lacks vitality. If I stick to an idea without introspection, without adding value to it, it becomes frustrating. This type of workshop is clearly becoming one such situation.

After the first workshop I was completely drained and decided to give up the theme for few months. Sometimes there is more wisdom in giving up ideas, than sticking to it.

Next day, I visit a field area. The field office is very well kept – lot of useful display and demonstration material. The team enthusiastically shows me those and shares lot of experiences of how it is used. It is beautiful. Then we travel 20 kilometers to reach a village, where a meeting is organized. On the way, the vehicle stops at the roadside because a group of 20 people wants to meet us. So, like a political leader I get down. They welcome us – brief us about the work of the village committee. They are enthusiastic, want to work together. They invite us for next visit. I appreciate their work; wish them well for the future work.

We reach village Kala Pipala. The crowd of hundred women and men is eagerly waiting for us. They have arranged for a loudspeaker so that the meeting proceeding should reach to those who are not present in the meeting. The Bhajani Mandali is singing. They invite me to light the lamp and worship the image of Goddess Saraswati. I follow the instructions of a local lady.

Then the women come forward – with their purdah and sing a song. Bhajani Mandal youths sing with the harmonium and dholak. After one song, the chief singer asks me whether I would like to listen to another song. Their first song is so energetic that I say ‘Yes’ without thinking much about the time. Just as they are starting, I ask them to include women in their songs. I mean - the song invites ‘brothers of village to join development work’ – I ask them to also invite ‘sisters of village to join development work’. To my surprise the group understands my feelings. They immediately modify their next song. I am delighted. Ah! Everything is not wasted after all!

Then I am asked to address the meeting. I do not really know what to say. I congratulate the villagers for the good work they are doing. I congratulate women and men for working together for village development. It is a new work – just nine months old. Their enthusiasm may wane when the benefit sharing starts. The conflict generally starts when the initial enthusiasm does not bring in equitable results. I do not want to discourage them, but I do want to share my concern. I tell them the old story of a king and his subjects. The story has many ‘values’ which I do not approve of, but people like stories, they are generally effective.

The kingdom is facing famine. Someone asks the king to bath the village God with milk. This will please the God and rain will arrive. The king asks his subjects to bring a small pot of milk. Everybody brings water instead of milk thinking that others will anyway bring milk. Ultimately there is not a drop of milk, just water.

The villagers all are smiling. Their eyes are shining. Many are nodding. Some are mischievously looking at some other person in the group. They can relate to the story, which means I have hit the right cord. They get the moral of the story right. Everybody should contribute to good work. It takes a lot to create good work, and just a moment of laziness, jealousy, inactiveness can destroy the good work. After the formal function is over, an old lady approaches me. She pats me for telling a good story. She is very happy with me. Her smile is a reward, which I value. An appreciation from someone who is wise is indeed valuable. I know there is no artificiality in that response. It is spontaneous. For a moment, I am happy with myself.

This series of incidences kindles life in my tired mind. I realize that what I am telling to people applies to me too. People here have tougher life; their battle is lot more fierce than mine. They hardly get rewards, theirs is a thankless job. Still they work. A moment of laziness, a wave of inactivity, momentary loss of interest on my part would destroy what I have created. I cannot afford to take a break now. For that matter I can never take a break. I cannot have the luxury of leaving the things unfinished. I have to complete what I have begun. By leaving in between, I won’t betray only myself, but would betray all those who supported me directly or indirectly. I am aware that whatever would be the result, I have to continue working.

I get a new perspective regarding what work is all about. I am re-charged. Thanks to Kala Pipla women and men.

29. Breaking Chains

On Friday, one NGO had invited me to facilitate training on Child Rights. I am not an expert in this area, so, took this opportunity to understand the topic. The participants were 30 women from four small villages near Sangamner. They all are members of Village level Child Rights committees.

I get tired easily if I have to constantly listen to one person. Therefore I always plan meetings, trainings, and workshops in such a way that everyone gets opportunity and is motivated to be involved.

During one game (kind of role play) on ‘inequality’, one woman voluntarily shared part of her life story. I got interested and during lunch break chatted with her.

Bhagabai (name changed) does not know her age. Her eldest son is about 45 years, so she must be 57-60 years old. She was married at the very young age of 7 – but stayed with her parents until she was 12. She was married to the son of her aunt (father’s sister). On my casual remark “‘the aunt must have treated you well…”, she laughed loudly. She told me various incidents on how she was harassed. Not providing enough food, verbal and physical abuse, giving extra workload, not allowing talking to other women … these were some of the methods used by the mother in law.

Bhagabai has four sons and two daughters – all married. I inquired, “You don’t abuse your daughters in law in any way I suppose….” She smiled understanding the direction of my remark and replied, “No, I do not. What I suffered from, I will not sow, so it will not grow.”

Bhagabai was silent for a moment. But from her expressions, it was clear that she was thinking deeply. She was in a position to reveal some uncomfortable truth. She was in two minds about sharing it with me. Finally she decided to trust me. She added, “But this maturity has come to me very late in life. You know, I have a younger sister-in-law. I have treated her very badly. I did to her all that my mother-in-law used to do to me. I used to beat my sister in law. Reasons? Any small reason could do, even I used to treat her badly without any apparent reason”.

“Why?” I could not help asking.

Bhagabai sighed, “See, that time my world was very limited. I had never gone outside, never spoken to strangers, and never heard anything beyond routine mundane things. I was immature because I had no exposure. I had suffered and wanted to take revenge – on whosoever I found. No one told me how to live differently. I did not know that there was some other way in which I can think and I can live….”

“Then how did you change?” I asked encouragingly.

Now Bhagabai was smiling again, her voice became stable and strong, her eyes were shining… She told me, “This all I learnt in Self Help Group (SHG). I met so many different people here, I saw them living differently. They told me what is good and what is bad. My horizon expanded since I joined SHG. I have developed a sense of good and bad after attending to workshops, trainings, meetings… I feel that no woman should be verbally or physically abused…..”

I was overwhelmed with the honesty and with the trust Bhagabai showed in me.

Generally in India the trend is to measure success of SHGs in terms of savings amount, credit availed, income generated through various activities ….. All quantitative measurements. I do not undermine their importance, but bringing in qualitative change, behavioral change is more important.

One major mandate of SHGs is to create congenial atmosphere for women’s empowerment –bringing in positive change by helping women to see ‘alternative paths’. Breaking old chains is inevitable process of such a demanding journey. Breaking chains not only brings freedom to others but even to those who are bound by the age old traditions.