by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 24, 2011 | Uncategorized
I went to the Ramlila grounds on Tuesday to be part of the protest against corruption let me Anna Hazare. I have already blogged about my what I felt that day but there are some other aspects of the agitation that I feel need to be highlighted.
I was impressed by the general atmosphere prevailing at the protest which was for want of a better expression a celebration of India. There were people from all walks of life, students and the elderly, rich and poor, urban and rural, people of diverse faiths and origin. But that was not all. There was also a genuine outpour of the legendary generosity of our land. Free packets of water were being handed out with a smile and gentle insistence. The place was surprising clean considering that it had housed tens of thousands of people over the past days. One would have expected it to be littered with garbage but it seemed that people themselves were ensuring its maintenance as one so many picking up the litter.
At the back of the grounds was what has been called Anna’s kitchen. Food was being cooked in large vessels and been handed out free to one and all. Hot rice, dal, vegetables, poories in disposable plates. Large bins were available to ensure that no plates were thrown on the ground and surprisingly there were none! A far cry from the morning after a wedding or a religious feeding frenzy in our city. Bags of dry rations and fresh vegetables waited to be turned into the next meal. Everyone was invited. I was told that all the food had been donated by supporters.
We decided to find the donation desk to make a contribution. All the donation posts bore signs saying closed. At first we thought that the people manning them had gone to lunch. But that was not the case. The organisers had decided to stop accepting donations as they felt they had sufficient funds for the present. Chapeau Bas was all one could say. This was really a unique occurrence in our times.
All around us people were singing or shouting slogans with conviction and passion. They had come for a cause they believed in, for a man whose honesty and integrity no one could question and everyone was proving themselves worthy of their ideal. Yes it was a celebration of India, amazing India!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 22, 2011 | Uncategorized
This picture was taken by one of our students during the recent workshop on photography held at our women centre. The picture speaks for itself: the broom a silent but eloquent reminder of the fate of girls in India.
Let us look at some statistics: India has the largest population of children as 40% of its population is under 18; one out of every six girl child does not live to see her 15th birthday; Every sixth girl child’s death is due to gender discrimination; 35 million children do not go the school, 53% of girls in the age group of 5 to 9 years are illiterate; 60% girls drop out out school before class V. The list is endless and distressing.
In spite of our best efforts we have seen girls drop out of school for a host of reasons, but one of the most shocking one is because many schools do not have toilets for girls! This is something that could be easily remedied if the State had the will to do so. The condition of government run schools in our capital is truly abysmal. Wonder where all the funds go. However that is not the only reason: girls are often made to drop out of school to take on the role of caretakers particularly in urban migrant households where both parents work. Sadly this situation will not change as children under the age of 6 are not covered by the right to education act and the state does not run free preschool facilities. So girls become the obvious and only choice to look after younger siblings. In homes the discrimination continues: girls are less likely to receive immunisation, nutrition or medical treatment compared to a male child. Moreover even if they go to school, girls never get proper support be it books or the much needed tuition that is a must as practically no teaching is done in schools. Even the illiterate have realised the worth of such schools and boys are often send to the ever mushrooming private schools. Girls however are sent to the free Government school if at all.
Let us not forget that in most cases the sole concern of parents is to get the girl married asap and it is often believed that too much education limits the choices of possible grooms. A girl needs to know how to cook, clean and maybe sow. More than that is not considered kosher. And the more educated the groom the larger the dowry. Education is thus viewed as an impediment and not an asset.
The question that comes to mind is how does one change things. Voting laws and Acts is not the answer as often these remain unknown to the beneficiaries. Gender related issues need to be addressed with patience, understanding and perseverance.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 22, 2011 | Uncategorized
I went to the Ramlila ground yesterday to be part of the anti corruption agitation led by Anna Hazare. I had of course been watching the agitation on telly and doing my bit by spreading the message but had shied away from actually going there in person. The reasons were many: my hurting knees, my low BP that dips at its own sweet will sending me into unexpected swoons, my agoraphobia and so on. Don’t forget I am a lone wolf. Anyway all this kept me away for a whole week but a little voice kept telling me to get off my high horses and get there.
I guess the little voice had a lot to do with Kamala my mother. As I watched the crowds on the small screen, I found myself going back in time to lessons learnt at mama’s knee, lessons that were often heard and forgotten as they seemed alien to a child growing up in the lap of luxury. Yet they must have struck a chord before being filed in the recesses of my memory as they all came rushing back bringing with them a plethora of emotions. There were stories of want, of patriotism, of sacrifice, of national pride. Was not Kamala the deprived little girl who had to know the extreme humiliation of having to stoop in front of a malicious cousin to get a sweetmeat, or the child whose task was to nurse her father’s and his companions’ lacerated backs when they returned from non violent manifestations having borne the brunt of police beatings, or the young girl who was willing to live life as an old maid rather than give life to a child in a colonised land. You see she was the daughter of a freedom fighter.
I remember fondly the story she once told me of how she and her friends who had decided to emulate their elders and stage their own Satyagraha were bundled up in a truck by the police and deposited miles away from home. The children were frightened and terrified. Thankfully her father had been able to trace them and bring them home in a horse cart. And every story she told me was punctuated with the very slogans that are being heard today: Vande Mataram, Bharat Mata ki Jai! There were also stories of the innumerable hunger fasts my grandfather undertook in jail, stories of force feeding valiantly resisted by consuming red chillies so that their throats were swollen and thus they could resist such attempts. The stories were many and I listened intently more so because of the passion with which they were told. And all the stories had one leit motiv: India’s freedom from British rule. And what is touching is that Kamala carried the same feelings into the initial years of her life as a diplomat’s wife. When she came to know that one of the guests at a dinner party was to be he British Ambassador it took all of my father’s persuasion skill to convincer her to be graceful to her guests!
The Vande Matarams and Bharat Mata ki Jai heard for the past days from every corner of the country resonated deeply in mind as a clarion call urging me to get out of the four walls of my home and lend my voice to the fight against corruption being waged at my doorstep. So yesterday I did set my fears aside and headed for Ramlila grounds. I must admit I was a tad nervous but at the same time filled with a excitement. We got to the group and promptly purchased an Anna Cap reminiscent of the ones worn by my grandfather and by my father at official functions. I donned it proudly and set out for the entry where we joined the queue shouting slogans. Needless to say I joined them enthusiastically and felt my spirits soar. I was transposed to another time.
We finally entered the grounds and though it was not filled to capacity as this was a working day, there were thousands of people around. Some had flags, others banners and yet others just stood watching the stage in the hope of getting a glimpse of their beloved Anna. He finally appeared looking frail bit his spirit soaring to infuse every one of us with renewed commitment as he shouted Vande to which the crowd roared Mataram. The atmosphere was nothing short of magic. The positive energy was palpable and infectious. Everyone exuded cheerfulness and bonhomie. People from all walks of life reached out to you with smiles and greetings. All barriers visible and invisible were forgotten at least for the time being. Everyone was united and it felt incredibly good. I was so glad I had come. I felt the spirit of Kamala right next to me reminding me that I was my mother’s daughter.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 21, 2011 | Uncategorized
Don’t lose faith in India were the last words of a dying man almost 2o years ago. It was at a time when India was burning over the Babri Masjid issue and everything seemed dark and bleak. Yet the man would not let go and repeated his dying mantra. The man was Ram my father and the words a legacy difficult to accept and yet very real. I was being asked by the one I probably loved and respected most not to lose faith in India. Not an easy task when India was burning and no one seemed to care. Remember it was December 1992!
I often wondered which India he was referring to: the one that lived in his dreams or the one we lived in. With every passing year keeping faith in India became difficult if not impossible, more so because in those days I had not yet discovered the real India. What I saw was the India of my peers and that one was not pretty. It was empty, soulless, arrogant, glittery, vain and obsessively pursuing money. Blissfully it was when I decided to set up project why and was compelled to cross the invisible divide and embrace the other India that I had my first glimpse of an India I could believe in. It was in the slums of Delhi that I finally found the India my father carried in his heart.
The ensuing years were not easy. As I anchored myself in the India I sought, images of the other India became more and more ugly. It was the years of scams, of political arrogance, of corruption in all its shades and hues. That is when I started shutting myself from one India even if it meant becoming a recluse and being the target of the cynicism of my peers. But you see I had to keep faith in India! And the only way I knew was to shut out the one I could not stand by. True I had to make some forays into the India I shunned as therein lay the money we so needed. My brief incursions only vindicated my stand. How can I forget the bags of rubbish that so oft landed on our doorstep as donations! Or the contempt with which my appeals for help were set aside with a curt: all NGOs are corrupt! Or still the more subtler opprobrium voiced when we decided to send some slum children to an English medium boarding school.
I also watched with horror and sadness the dismissive way in which the India of the little people was treated be it the walls created to segregate slums from their upmarket neighbours or the callous destruction of homes to beautify Delhi for an international extravaganza. And as I discovered the sad reality of our land so poignantly conveyed by a set of statistics; 40 % of the world’s starvation-affected people live in India, 76% families (840 million) people do not get their daily required calories, 55 % of India’s women are malnourished, 46% of India’s children are malnourished, more than 320 million people in India are unable to manage three square meals a day and the most startling one: more than 5,000 children die every day from malnourishment. How could the other India remain silent and unmoved. At timed I found it impossible to swallow a morsel of food and still do. And the one and only cause for these terrible statistics is undoubtedly corruption.
As I watched helplessly the astronomical figures of the scams being uncovered and corruption becoming the toast of the day I could not help thinking of its poorer cousin namely the apparently tiny sums doled each day by the invisible ones to be able to survive: the weekly tithe paid by the cart owner, the vegetable vendor, the roadside cobbler and so on. They too were stifling under the same oppressor. Yes Corruption with a big C had become a two headed monster devouring everything in its way. It was this monster that gobbled the funds destined to make schools, hospitals, roads, to provide food to those in need, work to those who had none. Excellent social programmes were hijacked by greed and never fully implemented. Imagine if the simple ICDS scheme launched in 1975 had worked no Indian under the age of 36 would underweight, undernourished or not vaccinated. Isn’t that food for thought. The reality is that the poor are becoming poorer while the rich become richer.
The question was when would India awake from its cynical slumber. When would it find its lost voice.
It took a diminutive elderly soul and a piece of legislation to do the trick. It all began in April when the spirited Gandhian decided to sit on fast to defend his take on a legislation that was meant to rid India of corruption. The cause echoed in the minds of many and for the first time a different breed of people took to the streets. The powers that be were caught unawares as they sprung into damage control by playing to the gallery and inviting the Gandhian to the negotiation table. For them it was a simple delay tactic. They had their own agenda to defend and they did by casting aside the views of civil society and tabling their own legislation. The Gandhian reacted and India responded.
When Anna decided to fast again he would not be alone. India who had sad silent for too many years decided to join the agitation as the cause was one they believed in: corruption had gnawed at them mercilessly for too long and the hubris of the state was getting too much to bear. The state on the other side remained impervious to the pulse of the very people that elected them and unfurled a series of absurd reactions that made the people angrier. The first salvo was of course the favourite weapon in their arsenal: slander! Without a thought a spokesperson decided to call the Gandhian dishonest and brand him and his team as armchair fascists, overground Maoists, closet anarchists. India was outraged and the crowds swelled. As if that was not enough the state decided to act.
Anna was arrested, lodged in the same jail that housed the most corrupt, released all in one day. And as these harebrained actions were taken crowds grew angrier. India took to the streets and Anna remained firm in his resolve. People from all walks of life registered their protest. It was no more a fight for a piece of legislation but for every hurt that had been borne silently and helplessly. Housewives, professionals, students, village folk, retired people, the educated and the illiterate everyone was out to extend support. The media was there to chronicle it all. The powers that be stood exposed. Their arsenal looked strangely inadequate. The bungling lot tried to hide behind a host inane of screens but to no avail. Wonder what they would come up with next.
You may or may not agree with the Anna way. You may or may not agree with his version of the proposed bill but he has managed to stir passions never unleashed before. He has according to the New York Times emerged as the unlikely face of an impassioned people’s movement in India, a public outpouring that has coalesced around fighting corruption but has also tapped into deeper anxieties in a society buffeted by change. He has managed to awake a slumbering India!
We all want to see the monster slain! And we also want to be rid of a government that has lost the pulse of the people. In times where media was non existent, erstwhile rulers disguised themselves as commoners and mingled with the people to gage their mood and opinion. This helped them rule better. It is sad that today when every form of media is blaring the anger of the people our rulers remain aloof and unmoved.
Anna gave us back our voice. Now it is for us to use it in the way we deem right and not let it get once again tinged with cynicism. The ball is undoubtedly in our court. There will be many followers of Antisthenes or Diogenes of Sinope will find many ways to try and deter us, but we need to remain Pollyanna like and believe that the changes we seek with such passion happen soon. There will be enough time for remedies later. And to be a reverse cynic perhaps some form of monster is needed to slay another.
This post is primarily meant to renew faith a lost faith. In the past days I have seen a new face of India, I have seen invisible barriers crossed, I have seen hope. I have seen the India one cannot and should not lose faith in.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Aug 20, 2011 | Uncategorized
One of the items of our recent Independence day celebration was a play on Gandhi’s salt march. The play had five British
soldiers cast in it. We needed costumes for them. We thought best to go to one of the costume rental places and asked for British soldier uniforms. The man said he would get them for us in a day or two. We were quite confident that they would be appropriate.
Imagine my surprise when I saw our four lads all dressed up on D day. They looked like the tin soldiers of my childhood. I wonder which British officer ever wore such an accoutrement! I could barely contain my smile, if not my laugh, as I saw my five boys proudly displaying their regalia. I could not for the life of me understand where this came from! Ottoman soldiers? Prussian ones with the wrong coloured hat or a very strange interpretation of the Royal Guards of Buckingham Palace. Any one’s guess!
As I said to me they looked like the little tin men of my childhood, the ones we kept in tin boxes and took out to play with. Whatever they were, on that morning they looked adorable and won many hearts! God bless them!
I went to the Ramlila grounds on Tuesday to be part of the protest against corruption let me Anna Hazare. I have already blogged about my what I felt that day but there are some other aspects of the agitation that I feel need to be highlighted.
