I WITNESS - The good people of DELHI by Sangeeta Das

I WITNESS - The good people of DELHI

by Sangeeta Das 

I am appalled at the lop-sided relay of events and incomplete images being telecast by some of the NEWS channels on TV, regarding the incident that happened at India Gate yesterday at around 5:30 PM.

I was there. We were all on the other side of India Gate towards the Dhyan Chand Stadium.

I think I need to paint the correct picture for the nation. Except for CNN IBN and NEWS X, most other channels are not showing the peaceful gathering. Thus it gives out the wrong message to the nation, to the politicians, to other women that there was violence.

Please pass on this note to as many people as you can and post it at as many places.

THERE WAS NO VIOLENCE NO PROVOCATION…THE POLICE ATTACKED WITHOUT ANY WARNING. I have been through section 144 earlier. At least there should have been one warning issued to us to get up and leave, peacefully, before they started hitting us.

Ms.Naina Kapur, of VISHKHA GUIDELINES fame, was there with me. Ms.Smita Bharti of SAAKSHI, an NGO working on SEXUAL HARASSMENT on women, was there. Ms.Nafisa Ali was standing behind us, Mr.Arvind Kejriwal was sitting just two rows in front of me, Mr.Arvind Gaur of ASMITA THEATER GROUP was there asking all the people to sit down and listen to the talks.

There were about 200-250 girls and equal or more number of men of all ages. There were young girls, some children, families and some elderly people along with hoards of photographers, journalists and reporters.

WE WERE ALL SITTING ON THE ROAD PEACEFULLY and listening to the painful account, of the mother of ‘KIRAN NEGI’, a 3 yr old who has been brutally raped and disfigured and killed, by her attackers. Even the sloganeering had stopped.

Many young and old men of Delhi were standing around us in a 3-4 layer human chain to protect us from any hooligans or nasty elements. It was like a CHAKRAVYUH.

Members of the ASMITA THEATER GROUP, including Mr.Gaur, were constantly walking around the circle. Young boys and girls of his team were repeatedly requesting and talking to people to not resort to violence, not to panic or run or throw stones, not to damage public property, AND not to hurt or abuse the female protestors.

There were many volunteers distributing biscuits and water to every protestor.

We were talking to the ‘AAM JANATA’ of Delhi on how to tackle the violence on women and children starting from ourselves, our homes and communities.

WE WERE SIMPLY TALKING.

I had just finished my packet of biscuit when the police, hundreds of them from DELHI POLICE and RAF, charged at us from behind, WITHOUT ANY WARNING.

They first attacked the men from behind, breaking their CHAKRAVYUH. I stood up to see what the commotion was about, and immediately fell as most girls didn’t get enough time to stand up. I hugged Smitaji as we fell on each other and there was a stampede over us.

Some of the men from the circle ran for their lives, but most of them ran towards us and hugged us and fell on us and took the initial blows of the LATHI CHARGE.

I couldn’t see anything; I just heard the two cracks of a SPLIT BAMBOO STICK on my back, butt and thighs. Then I heard the police screaming, HARAMZADIYON, RANDIYON, and then I saw a boot kicking my knees and shin.

They hit Smitaji on her lower-back and spine. The boys of ASMITA, and some more men pulled us all up and all of them formed protection girdles around the girls to push us out of the range of the water cannons and charging men in KHAKI AND BLUE.

Visibility was poor due to fog and tear gas; many girls were hit; even when we were running away and saying, “Ham jaa rahen hain, hame mat mariye”,…. they were hitting the boys rampantly, constantly spitting abuses on the girls. Many women reporters were also hit and chased, their vans attacked, equipments broken. Some girls still managed to pull a few lathis and gave it back to the men. I don’t know what happened to the children in the group and how the aunties in saris managed to run. I just hope they are all well.

There was not a single ambulance in sight; the entire C- Hexagon of India Gate was empty, barring the police. We walked for almost 45 min, as there was no way out from the outer circle. Finally we managed to duck behind press vans and escaped via Shahjahan Road.

Do I look like a hooligan? Was I armed? Was I provoking the police or creating a nuisance? Was I resorting to violence, by sitting there and listening to, or sharing our personal grievances of Sexual harassment and assault? You judge for yourself.

Agreed, that in such gatherings, some nasty elements do infiltrate and create a raucous, but the police didn’t seem to have the basic sensibility to differentiate between hooligans and some young girls, children, and elderly people.

If the Delhi Police and RAF lack the basic cognizance to recognize the good from bad, what protection can we expect from them? Instead I thank the men of Delhi, the boys of Delhi, who helped all the girls to escape from the wrath of THE POLICE. 

I request the people who were present there, to paint the correct picture, so that Mr.Manmohan Singh, Mr.Shinde and others would get the correct picture of what happened on the ground.

I request the PM and the Home Minister to believe that “I, the woman of India,” am not violent or the ‘Shame of the nation’... that we have to be ashamed that the world is watching. I was not offensive. But I will definitely stand up again to defend myself, my mother, my daughter and my kind. Let the world watch.

written by Sangeeta Das

To Kill or not to Kill

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To Kill or not to Kill

We are in rage, all of us. The gang rape which took place in Delhi, has got us questioning. Got us thinking about a major crisis India is facing. Our law an order machinery has failed, and it did not happen today, it has happened a long long time ago. It just that us ‘law abiding citizens ‘ never come face to face with it. ( its not just an activist’s claim, there are 3.20000000 pending cases in Indian courts (1) )

Today we are on the streets & we should be. But why are we there? The pressure we created has led to rapid action by the police against these rapists, more importantly the Chief Minister herself is looking into ensuring the victim gets the best medical attention. So what now?

Yes we pray every day for the victim, and hope she recovers quickly.

What about the rapists who are jailed? The process of justice is a slow and lengthy one ( though this particular case will be tried in so called ‘ fast track court ‘, first date is 9^th January ( so that the judiciaty & police have ample time to celebrate santa & recover from their hangover of the 31^st December celebration, by the time all the steps:

1.     Framing of charge

2.     Recording of prosecution evidence

3.     Statement of accused

4.     Defence evidence hearing

5.     Final arguments

6.     Judgment

Are done the public anger would have subsided ( like it has for all the cases in the past ), let us presume the rapists are granted the maximum punishment under IPC for gang rape which is 10 years. ( usually only 2 out of 10 rape cases reach a conviction, if ever (2) )

10 years these 6 men will stay in company of similar men all convicted of rape/murder/robbery or some other felony. 10 years of such company & the atmosphere of Indian jails will these 6 men be reformed ? When released will they be respecting women ?

Lets say somehow we our pressure leads to them being jailed for life, so in that scenario they will never be a threat to the society. They will join the existing population of prisoners in our over spilling jails, will be kept alive on the tax payers money ( my money ), for what ? For the day they die in Jail ? Yes it might lead to the fear of the law,

sending a message : that if you rape & if its in the capital & if the students are not having exams & if the media vans can be parked close to the demonstration, in that scenario of scenarios you would have to spend your life in jail. ( Jail a place which 30% of malnourished homeless India views as a pathetic shelter home, but a shelter home none the less )

Is that really the message which we want to send out ? Secondly a rather direct question if its really for scaring people from committing rape. What should be our message

If you rape, you will spend rest of your life in confinement.

OR

If you rape, you will be killed.

 Reading up there is a provision in the IPC which say, they can be hanged in the ‘ rarest of the rare cases’ Well the way I see it, rape is one such crime. Its not committed out of poverty, out of compulsion, for survival.  If you disagree with me, ask any rape victim and I am sure they will answer the same.

Yes these 6 men should be hanged, and yes the only punishment for rapists is capital punishment. For the human right defenders , well in my not so humble opinion, rape is the most inhuman act of them all, and they deserve to die.

Sources

1.    http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2011-12-20/india/30537308_1_subordinate-courts-pendency-crore-cases
2. http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2012-12-21/india/35952603_1_conviction-rate-sweden-countries

JAWAHARLAL NEHRU UNIVERSITY STUDENTS UNION OPEN MEMORANDUM TO THE HOME MINISTER OF INDIA, CHIEF MINISTER OF DELHI AND DELHI POLICE COMMISSIONER

JAWAHARLAL NEHRU UNIVERSITY STUDENTS UNION

OPEN MEMORANDUM TO THE HOME MINISTER OF INDIA, CHIEF MINISTER OF DELHI AND DELHI POLICE COMMISSIONER

19 December 2012 The gang-rape and brutalization of a 23 year old student on the roads of Delhi has shocked and deeply disturbed people across the country, particularly the citizens of Delhi. The incident once again betrays the impunity of the perpetrators who remain undeterred by the police and the entire criminal justice system of the capital city.

Despite the massive public outrage, the official response to this incident has been disappointing, with no one in office willing to take responsibility for this sorry state of affairs. Yesterday, the Home Minister paid lip service to ensuring speedy investigation in the case but took no pains to announce new mechanisms or reassure the women of Delhi vis-Ã -vis their safety; the Delhi CM held that the Police was under the Home Ministry and subsequently decided to divert matters by writing to the judiciary for ensuring speedy trial; the Delhi Police Commissioner accepted no lapse on part of the Police, asserted that all such crimes cannot be prevented and also tried to pass responsibility on to the judiciary for delays in trial and conviction. The fact of the matter is that all these offices and institutions are collectively responsible for this pathetic state of affairs wherein women continue to remain unsafe in the capital city of Delhi, as also in the entire country. We are deeply concerned about the health and well-being of the survivor of this brutal rape. We express our solidarity with her and her family. We all unite in wishing her a speedy recovery and a life of dignity.

We again demand the arrest of all culprits “ two of whom are still absconding “ and also demand speedy justice for her. The trial and conviction must be completed within 100 days. Demands to Fight Crimes against Women Delhi alone accounts for 13.3 per cent of the total incidents of crimes against women and 43.1 per cent of the total incidents of crimes against children among 53 mega cities of India. In view of the alarming rise in crimes against women in Delhi, particularly gang-rapes, the JNU Students Union demands the following: 

1. Drastically improve the rate of registration of FIRs in Delhi.
As per the National Crime Records Bureau Report of 2011, of the total 14618802 complaints of crime received by Delhi Police only 59249, i.e., less than 0.5 per cent, were registered as FIRs. This shows the general apathy of the Delhi Police towards all crimes in Delhi. As per Delhi Police Annual Report of 2010, only 11.88 per cent of all complaints received by the Crimes Against Women (CAW) Cells in Delhi were converted into FIRs. This criminal apathy is responsible for the confidence enjoyed by criminals in the state.

2. Drastically improve the rate and quality of investigation into cases. Also improve the rate and speed of chargesheeting, trial and conviction. Currently, a bigger proportion of those charged with rape and other crimes against women go scot free. The conviction rate in crimes against women has fallen in the country from a meagre 27.8% in 2010 to 26.9% in 2011. As per studies conducted in Delhi, those convicted of rape lodged in the Tihar Jail of Delhi have committed on an average four rapes before conviction. This betrays the failure of the entire criminal-justice system.

3. Introduce compulsory courses on gender sensitivity in the training module of the Police Force instead of just a handful of workshops for a handful of Police Officers.

4. Ensure more women in the Delhi Police. Currently there are less than 6.5 per cent women in the Delhi Police.

5. Introduce Fast Track and Specialized courts for rape and other crimes against women in Delhi. This has been promised repeatedly by the Home Ministry over the last decade only to be reneged. 

6. Ensure women constable escorted transportation on telephonic and any other form of request to any woman in Delhi. Make such transport available at speed.

7. Ensure more stringent sexual assault laws in the country. Amend existing weak laws on rape and sexual assault in the country. 

8. Institute anti-sexual harassment committees in all schools, colleges and workplaces as per the Supreme Court guideline. Ensure passage of the prevention of sexual harassment at workplace bill after suitable amendments to remove weaknesses. 

9. Enact State Level Laws in Delhi for curbing crimes against women.

10. Institute mechanisms to ensure physical and psychological wellbeing of all victims of crimes through counselling and dedicated medical facilities.

The JNUSU will continue its struggle to ensure that these measures are undertaken.

Sd/V. Lenin Kumar President, JNUSU

Sd/Shakeel Anjum General Secretary, JNUSU

Please join us at India gate today ( 19.12.12 ) at 5 pm

 details : http://www.facebook.com/events/120378174795019/?ref=22

 

Indian Railways: a crash course in understanding India

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For twelve straight hours my home consisted of seat number 56, in tier AC 3, bogie B4 heading towards Kolkata and amounted to what I can only describe as shock therapy as one of India's ‘spoilt ones'. Starting right from the moment I got out of my air-conditioned SUV, the simple walk through the newly created security check reminded me of the herd. In automatic mode I was squished into a queue (I hate queues!), then my bags were flung into the x-ray scanner, without a second thought as to their contents, while the cop sitting behind the scanner was busy staring at any female form on the platform with looks that would scare Hannibal lector.

Once out of the x-ray check, I was confronted with Delhi's version of ‘mission impossible’ as I was afforded with a faint millisecond to pick up my bags and rush to the nearest exit or risk being trampled by the hoard behind me. My bladder of course does not enjoy any of this commotion, so the call of nature had to be answered. Enduring any public toilet in India is an adventure in itself, however if you have to use them in a railway station, your olfactory nerves will require some Israeli army training, if not do make sure to have a strong insurance plan, because this adventure is not for the faint hearted. Without even having to look for a sign, the distinct smell of urine directed me to the men’s room (on a practical point, thank god for the smell, as signs are non-existent). I will save you dear reader from any pictures of the pissua, which suffice it to say, had stains harking back to the days of the ‘Raj’, which I think was about the last time it was cleaned as well. After going through the horrific experience of feeling the drops of flush water mixed with my neighbor's water (how I wanted to cut my own legs off!), I was confronted with the seemingly innocuous task of washing my hands. Here I am confronted with a dilemma, weather to use the tap which runs at a drop per minute, or the one which is permanently flowing in a manner not dissimilar to Niagara Falls. In moments of doubt such as this, I tend to favour any waterfall, which reminded me of Holi (Indian festival of colors and water and an excuse to molest women www.saveholi.in). Just as I walked out drenched, an antique 1949 model of a government employee pulled out his hand and requested ‘3 rupees’. Indeed, if you carry a backpack, wear shorts and have a crew cut you are taken to be a member of the English-speaking specie. But being very Indian, just one look was enough to scare him off. Isn't this how every day-long journey should begin?

The walk to the platform is not that difficult except for the fact that my flip flops are not designed for such slippery floors (designed instead for the jungles of JNU), so it is akin to a balancing act, or figure skating for the more sophisticated of you. I was rewarded in the end with a safe arrival to my platform as opposed to a medal and a podium. Once on the platform, I must say it was not as crowded as I had expected (to my German friends, it was still more crowded than the Munich hauptbahnhof before a Bayern Munich match, but by Indian standards less crowded) and I could easily stroll around thanks to the location of bogies clearly indicated with digital signs (back in the day the tea vendor, book seller and coolies would have been the only ones to direct you in the proper direction). As a sign that some traditions have survived, compartments a1 and a3 are right at the beginning, followed by d2 and d6, making me remember that as ever the Indian railway flirts with the theory of chaos, much like the rest of the country.

At the bookstand I pick up a copy of Amartya Sen’s Argumentative Indian, a wise investment at Rs 300, not only because it’s a brilliant book but because it will soon shield me from fielding idiotic questions (keep on reading). So as I get all set to wait for the train, I find myself a sweet windy spot with not many people. Having barely put my backpack down a group of six bearded men with white round caps come by and proceed to sit on me as though I were an IKEA sofa. One of them even rested his back against me until I stared at him with a fixed gaze conveying ‘bro I am not a pillar!'. So as the available physical space on my left side became cramped and I was about to make a move sideways a saffron-tikka wearing family (exclamation mark on your forehead denoting you pray to one of the 1600 gods of what the English call Hinduism). So with the Quran being read on one side, the BJP being supported on the other and my atheist soul analyzing it all in the middle, I entertain a swatting game with a few mosquitoes that have never read about Gandhi or heard of his concept of Ahimsa just as the train arrives.

Once inside things appear to be taking a turn for the better with a comfortable seat and an upper side berth located, I send a few texts to the ever-worried family only a few miles away, update status messages on various social media outlets, flirt with my lady love, and find myself actually having a good time. But this was not to last as a fifty year-old woman sitting across from me suddenly asks out loud "Are you married?" I blatantly ignore the question until she proceeds to repeat it in Hindi, Bengali, Oriya (it's amazing how we Indians turn into UN-quality translators when questions of marriage arise). To add to this scene, her daughter is sitting right next to her. I could almost imagine a Hindu wedding in a train with the ticket collector blabbering all those complicated Sanskrit rhymes the priest undertakes (he says Om about a million times). Back to my own diplomatic conflict, I had to find a swift and effective reply, so turned to my phone and showed them my wallpaper exclaiming "In talks as we speak"  (damn am I good at dodging questions). Before another breath could pass I had Amartya Sen cradled in my hands to the rescue. O how I love you Sir, not only are you a brilliant writer, you have also saved single men from the agony of having to explain why they are not married.

Soup arrives, followed by dinner, which is quite tasty and clean so no complaints from this traveler. Then again put meat on my plate and I am as satisfied as a bear with a pot of honey. Mealtime was followed by the complicated task of folding myself into the upper side berth. Honestly these trains were not designed with a man of my build in mind but for dwarfs and midgets in my view. My upper body fits in just fine, but where am I supposed to put my legs? Many permutations and combinations later I figure this is a pointless task and proceed to sleeping with my arms and legs hanging outside the confines of the mattress. Kicking and slapping every passer-by as the night wears on, I spend the next seven hours in what I can only refer to as ‘the experiment of the bear sleeping atop a tree branch'.

The next morning starts off rather slowly, if you can accept a blocked toilet at such an early hour. But the breakfast did not disappoint, with a hot omelet and toast, which was enjoyed in my acrobatic position as I was still hanging on to my upper berth, as the gentleman below snored the route away.

Meandering from village to village, slowly yes very slowly, (three hours later than expected) we arrived in Kolkata. As a final goodbye, the gentleman on the lower berth managed to have a conversation with me, which I had successfully avoided for the last twelve hours. He was kind enough to explain the way to my destination before delicately cautioning me that "All these taxi drivers are thieves. Just take this straight forward route. Get out take a right, then a left, a right at the roundabout, leave the next three roundabouts, take a left, and then a diagonal right. That’s it, super duper straight forward, no turns." While coming to terms with the concept of a diagonal right and the directions buzzing in my head, my feet met with the hot platform and I soon realized that I had survived this incredible journey. Beyond anything my ordinary Delhi day entails, this journey on India's famed railways put me in touch with a part of this country I seldom interact with but which I am very grateful still exists.  Backpack in tow it was now time to jump into the madness that is Kolkata.

They Rape, we Watch, They Walk away

On 9^th of July a young girl was raped by 13 men on camera, the brutal tape was played across the country. All our Knights went up in outrage Arnabh Goswami, Barkha Dutt, Rajdeep Sardesai, Ravnish Kumar, Abhigyan Prakash wanted immediate police action, the national commission for women sent inquiry teams, Alka Lamba was seen hugging the victim into safety. All of us gender activists were going gung-ho on social media, investigating profiles & finding culprits.

And YES, we got them behind bars, tapped our shoulders & forgot about it ! Media had other issues like Kejriwal & coal blocks. We who sell ‘ gender activism ‘ for our living went on to our projects, proposals, capacity building, budgets, seminars & conferences. 

Well here is what happened on 9^th of july to that young girl ! Watch this video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lOe19FJ4BFk ) & I urge you to just imagine this was you !,  your sister, girlfriend, wife, mother !!!!!

What would you do to these men ???? ( even fucking Gandhians would ensure they are hanged !!!!! ).

TAKE A GUESS WHERE ARE THESE 13 MEN TODAY ?

Yes the prediction is true they were ALL GRANTED BAIL !, no the media is not there ( we need to celebrate Yuvi’s return & Aseem Trivedi’s release). Outraged gender activists like my self want to crack open skulls of these bastards & are repeatedly being told by our bosses to calm down (so we put our rage in words & feel like shit !!!!! ). But that’s not what matters to me.

WHAT ABOUT THAT GIRL ??

What does she feel ? Those men tormented her, the whole country saw it ! & they walk free !!!!!! What legal system? What law? What society ? it’s the fucking height of hypocrisy !

Bastards of the Raj

Last few days have been rather interesting, for professional reasons I got an opportunity to spend a lot of time with some budding leaders & some national/international ones. Coming from a very liberal household, ‘ Nationalism ‘, ‘ Hindutva ‘ ‘ Religious fanatics ‘  are all pretty strange to me. But as life is a compilation of amazing experiences, the last few days have surely got me thinking in many ways.

One of the topics was the British ‘Raj’, and our thoughts about it. In my humble opinion the only reason majority of ‘ Desi Crowd ‘ is so angry with the ‘ English ‘ is that the ‘ Father of the Nation ‘ never disclosed his love towards ‘ Our Mother wearing the Crown ‘ (the intelligent will understand the metaphorical pun intended, the fanatics can shoot me if they want). 

Yup I am bravely referring to the man on every Indian currency note, Son of a senior Govt (yup his dad worked for the ‘ Raj ‘) official, educated in a fine law school in London. In fact all that he wanted in that train Cabin in south Africa was to be treated like a ‘Gentle Man‘ (a British concept).

So why do the history books make the breakup sound like a major achievement. Like seriously our constitution (which we apparently live by in India) Is a cut & paste of what Thomas Babiton Macaulay a British poet and politician penned down with a bottle of sherry on his way to the ‘ Indian sub continent ‘.

This is where the ‘hindu rashtra’ fanatics would start jumping up & down, claiming that its not true, and we all should wear saffron n speak Hindi. Well what about the rest of the country which is not ‘ Uttar Pradesh ‘ & ‘ Bihar ‘.  Yes there are other amazing languages in India too. But the way we communicate officially interstate wise is English. 

Lets just say you were proud to be Indian, well in that case since ‘ India ‘ is a very British concept (just like ‘ Hinduism ‘ yup you saffron fanatics, this term was first researched by a English scholar Sir John Woodroffe, who found its mention in some sanskrit literature ' Rajataranginis ' written by a Kashmiri gentleman Kalhana ), you could not be anti – English. Starting from the constitution all the way to Cricket, it has imprints of foreign influence. No matter how proud we are of our Independence movement, we cannot say the British left, governments might come and go, but cultures remain.

What we Indians love most ‘ Tea ‘ n ‘ Cricket ‘, could we be more British?

So why the anger? My guess is, the anger is towards the ‘ Raj ‘ our mother who never claimed us after we killed our Father. We feel like ‘ Karan ‘ (Mahabharat reference), the lack of belonging to the huge empire made us grow angry. Grow a fake pride against the inventor of most of our definitions.

‘ God save the queen, and once she is saved, please ask her to save us ‘.

Poor? Hungry? Let's talk about Equality.

My alarm rings at 6am and, like any self-respecting NGO worker who is always on the clock, I snooze for the next 30 minutes planning in the deep recesses of my mind how the day ahead will pan out. Today was the day. The day to head out into the hinterland and deliver out concepts of Gender (definitions/ stereotypes/clichés). Our team assembled, I was joined by Suresh, CSR's driver/entertainer, someone with a deep understanding of the needs of rural Indians who is always willing and ready to share his views. To round out our team was Vikram, our webmaster/gifted Athenian orator, hailing from Haryana, a state infamous for gender-based violence, and a living example of how one can change mindsets.

We were on our way to Moradabad (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moradabad ), a city which retains a proud brass industry heritage as one of the country's largest exporters of brass handicrafts. As reported by the latest census, literacy rates are around 70% in men and 60% in women (rather high compared to the rest of Uttar Pradesh ), the sex ratio is 908 women per 1000 men. Altogether I went into this latest round of gender trainings with a positive and optimistic viewpoint of the city and its people, and assumed that our Gender Trainings would run smoothly. Basic concepts explained to straightforward people.

Upon our arrival in Moradabad we were met by our local partner organization SARD : Society for All Round Development, who piloted us through the city, driving through narrow lanes and what felt like a series of never-ending vegetable markets. We eventually arrived to the point where I had to leave the comforts of our air-conditioned car and face the reality of the blaring summer sun as I meandered through lanes, which just happened to be the exact size of my shoulder span.

The 500 meter walk was surely not intended for anyone with a sensitive olfactory system or with particularly high standards of hygiene. The small distance was dotted with twenty butcher stalls casual about waste disposal to say the least selecting the little drainage canals outside their shops while the heat and humidity ensured the flesh remains were colonized upon arrival. Finally, after ducking and diving my way through the lane I arrived at the training venue. I was relieved and tired. Damping down my sweaty brow, I looked up and realized that I was at the local madrasa. As I shook my head and stepped in, there was a power cut. Ominous you say?

Immediately upon entering the room, I noticed a pile of Qurans stacked high in the corner and a blackboard with sinuous Arabic lettering. The power cut on arrival meant no electricity leaving us in complete darkness in the room with the only source of light and ventilation being the little door through which I entered. Thankfully, the power cut did not seem to dissuade any of our participants and the room slowly filled up with a very diverse group ranging from dewy-eyed ten-year old boys to seventy-year old ‘maulanas' with many years experience as teachers of Islam.  I soon looked up and our little 20 sq meter room was filled to capacity with over seventy people with one door and no electricity.

When preparing to speak in front of large crowds there are only so many variables you can take into consideration. Did I know there was going to be a power cut? No. So I pressed on with my introduction to the group while beads of sweat trickled down my forehead leaving me after 10 minutes of cursory remarks in a pool of my own sweat. Setting the physical difficulties aside, we delved into the topic of 'Gender'.  I must admit that the group was very attentive and participated with great enthusiasm. We conducted a healthy discussion filled with smiles, laughter and agreement that there are different opportunities and expectations which come with being a man or woman and that these parameters are created, established and prolonged by all members of society. However, when the discussion turned to the topic of ‘Equality' the whole group suddenly turned silent craning their necks towards the elders sitting at the back, ‘the community elders', the ones with the final say. I had just been introduced to the judges of Moradabad's very own Kangaroo Court. 

You could have heard a pin drop in those first few minutes. The shock over the concept of gender equality was enough to drive these boys and men stone cold silent. The elders were gracious enough to smile, enquire after my name but then ordered me to continue.  When a trainer loses his authority it’s hard to conduct a training, however I made a light-hearted joke at the elders and did my best to continue. The training atmosphere had surely turned hostile but often one needs to make a point. So I continued on the topic of equality putting a simple question to the group: "What did they think about women having a job". Again a series of hushed conversations, silences and murmurs ensued when finally a young boy aged around sixteen answered, "Sir my Quran says women should always be dressed from head to toe otherwise it is a sin, since most jobs nowadays require them to wear western clothes they can’t do those jobs."  

I was about to involve others in the discussion when one of the elders sitting at the back interjected and warned me that "You should watch what you say, you are in a room where we teach our kids about Islam, a word against the Quran and you won’t leave this training on your own two feet". Shocked and dismayed, I thought to myself "Wow, this hundred-year old bloke half my size, actually threatened me". So I used the finest and only weapon available to me, humor, to break the ice quoting the famous Bollywood saying ‘Gabbar singh yeh keh gaya, Jo darr gaya wo maar gaya'  (no guts no glory). The group broke into fits of indulgent laughter and congratulated my defensive move with a round of applause. Realizing we had all reached our boundaries of tolerance both mentally and physically for the day I concluded the training.

Afterwards, our host organization was kind enough to serve us a generous spread of cold drinks and snacks while we exchanged stories of our experiences from a truly challenging day. I decided to take a stroll back to where I had left my normality. Walking back through the narrow path I was overwhelmed by a sense of hypocrisy. The group of men I had just spoken to had never experienced equality, did not know of rights because they had never exercised their own and live in an India where government provisions are a myth.  Their battles are for survival, their worries for how to feed their families and the only glimmer of hope they have in this battle, which they will eventually lose, is religion.

All the big words used in proposals sent to UN agencies are good and great for those who are fortunate enough to live in the comfort of air conditioned conference halls with purified/ ozonified/ reverse osmosis-treated bottled water. But for the majority of my country these so-called 'necessities' bear no meaning as their struggle is for survival not for class not for justice but the basic instinct to stay alive. As a result they will align themselves with anyone who shares, ensures and prioritizes that same basic ambition.

They did not sit in that crowded, hot room because they cared about Gender. They sat there because they knew they would be provided with a meal at the end. Trainings are a valuable exercise but I sometimes think we forget why some people choose to attend. Vast amounts of money is spent inviting trainers from the big cities and on refreshments for a huge gathered crowd, which is often unaware of the topic but is very aware that they will be served a meal if they stay until the end. It is a common practice I have seen across the NGO sector in India and it is a reality we must come to terms with.

Perhaps we ought to entertain the thought that maybe we need to spend more time and money on what people need and want rather than telling them how to behave. Also, if UN bosses spend more time in the field they would realize that it's not a lack of capacity but lack of opportunity that is the main barrier. They should invest this money in hospitals, schools and nutrition. I realize that 'our bosses' sit in their beautiful offices and are chauffeured from one strategy meeting to another while expecting that a new version of social change will automatically take place every year but the reality on the ground is more complex, nuanced and demanding. This reality is certainly worth looking into.

Boobs before breakfast

This Saturday started off like any other day. My alarm clock dutifully rang at 9am, half awake I stumbled out of bed grabbing the newspaper, waiting on my coffee. As I opened the front page and scanned through the staggering manner in which my country was depicted in the headlines my eyes were drawn to an ad for a shirt. But dear reader, do not be fooled, this was no ordinary shirt.

So here I am sitting in the capital of a conservative country and even before I have had a sip of my morning coffee what am I confronted with on the front page? A semi-naked woman exposed with her breast to the reader, hands held suggestively between her legs and an exasperated look on her face. Forgive me, but is an invitation for coitus (apologize for this graphic description, but it’s the truth) the best way to sell a shirt? Undoubtedly, the ad men succeeded in their task by grabbing my attention.  Now the obvious question remains, is SEX the only tool of persuasion available to draw interest to a product's merits? Such an approach may be successful with many young men between the ages of 18-35 (their target demographic) but what is the impact of such an advertising campaign on other readers? Ad men continue to use sexual imagery in advertising as a means of persuading the reader to a product's virtues. Marketers continue to use more sex in advertising for a greater range of products.  The range of merchandise that are traditionally associated with sex appeals are usually designer clothing, alcohol and fragrances which appear to be featuring sexual imagery that is increasingly explicit.

So I'm obviously concerned at what thoughts run through a 13-year old boy's mind when affronted with such graphic ads let alone the reactive thoughts of a 50-year old woman. Leaving those questions open as I triage through my daily dose of so-called 'news', what becomes clear is that the production of our newspapers has become highly dependent on funding generated by advertisements of a sexual nature. Of course one could have a fertile discussion about whether this is good or bad for the future of journalism but my question remains: Is it NEWS? And should it have any place in our newspapers?
   

Marshall Mcluhan once said “All media exist to invest our lives with artificial perceptions and arbitrary values". How true. In a country where conversations operate under the maxim 'Though Shalt Not Discuss Sex in Public' (your guess is as good as any, looking our rising population it surely is not increasing because of any other reason) how can it be deemed acceptable to have semi-naked women on the front page of national daily newspaper? In addition, as a reader I feel genuinely cheated as my newspaper was purchased in order to read the read the latest news and keep myself well-informed. Instead, I am given page after page of sexually explicit advertising. I am a grown man, such things can be purchased alternatively through Playboy.

I discussed my concerns with , a marketing expert ( who wants to remain anonymous as he represents on of the biggest marketing companies on the globe ) who explained that "Sex is a taboo theme in India, the more one uses it the more people would like to sneak a peek, more interest in the product/brand. The more shocking it is, people will talk about it more, be interested and share it. That is exactly what makes an ad campaign successful." So what happens to our society? Every day from the time we wake up till we go to bed, we are bombarded with advertisements on a variety of different platforms be it newspapers, TV, radio, street hoardings with ads which are sexual in nature. But our social systems are still very closed to these topics with the vast majority of us never having seen our parents kiss and most of us hesitating to demonstrate even the slightest bit of PDA in front of them.

The media conveys camouflaged messages about what is appropriate in society. This message when examined through the lens of gender suggests men to be proactive, aggressive as compared to women (who are objectified as sexual toys for men). The constant reminder of this ‘Barbie Doll' , ‘He – Man' divide with photoshoped images cannot merely be classified as an innocent pastime as it leads to the cultivation of unrealistic aspirations. (For further proof do watch Killing Us Softly ).

The media no longer finds itself on the periphery of society, today it finds itself in the midst of its own cultural revolution. A constant in our lives, and hence having a major effect on how we act and react to daily life situations. Female sexuality is used to sell products (as men usually control the wealth), be it through music videos, advertisements, songs, movies or newspapers. The constant promotion of men as sexual aggressors on women, as sex objects, leads to the normalization and acceptance of violence as a common practice. And in reality it's not! (For further proof do watch Dreamworlds  )

Now begs the obvious question, is this contradiction the reason for so many sex crimes? Does the constant presence of sexual content in our day to day life lead to the creation of an augmented reality? 

Critics will say, but people are smart, they can choose! I agree, that they can. On the one hand we have the best psychologists advising advertising firms on how best to maximize their exposure (and ad revenue) to their key market demographics for their products. On the other hand, individuals are unaware of these tactics, believing what they see on television, hear on the radio and read in the newspaper. And sadly once these readers become consumers, use a product and come to the realization that it has in fact not changed their lives as promised (tragically AXE deodorant will not make girls jump into bed with you: tried and tested) they will cease using it. But what is the collateral damage of this process? Is it acceptable that people get hurt in the process of selling perfume? 

The owners of these big advertising firms (mostly men let's be honest) only care about the potential generated revenue stream of a product rather than any potential effects of the violent sexual nature of their ad campaigns. As a result of losing money by executing alternative ad campaigns that have failed they have returned to the repetitive ad campaigns we know all too well where 'sex is best'.

Let me end of a final note. Dear Advertiser, you want to sell me a pink Oxford shirt with buttons? Try appealing to me through issues other than sex which interest me such as science, sports, social welfare or society. I am an evolved man who can handle being appealed to on a variety of different platforms rather than just sex. Use your creativity, there are other aspects of life which are as important as sex. Tell me about the thread count used in making my desired pink shirt, the man who made it, which social events I can wear it to (cricket perhaps?) or how many employees this company employs in India. There you go, I've done your job. If I can come up with 4 ideas in 4 minutes I am sure the geniuses working in your offices can do a lot more. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.

Anti-social social workers: whose interests are we really serving ?

The question is a subtle and nuanced one. I have been working in the social change sector for the last three years. It started out quite simply; we would sweat it out in rural villages talking to women of all age groups about their day-to-day lives and gathering valuable field data about the obstacles they faced. The hours were long and the work conditions were often gruelling. Nonetheless, I found the whole experience riveting. These early experiences engaging directly with the women whose issues I fight for on a daily basis not only altered the way in which I see myself, but also how I understand the women around me. I had found my cause.

Consequently, as I discovered more about the amazing work so many of my peers were committing themselves to, I knew that I wanted to dedicate myself to the same cause. Unsatisfied with simply standing by the side lines while law after law, case after case against women went unnoticed I wanted to learn, may be even chip in an idea or two. It’s a true reflection of the social change sector, that despite my lack of formal experience in the area, my ideas and I were welcomed into the team with open arms (if only time stood still).

The more knowledgeable I became, the harder I worked. The more I worked the more my network began to expand to include VIPs. I was interacting with the “names which matter”, The Titans of the social change sector in India as I like to refer to them. These are the women and men who call the shots, organize the big rallies, are called on by the media to comment and who the media in turn listen to. I won’t lie it was an honor just to be in their company. Forgive me for what I am about to say, but it felt like being called up from the minor leagues to play alongside Michael Jordan. At times, sitting at the same round table as The Titans, who have dedicated their lives to the cause, I had to pinch myself to believe that I was actually invite to sit there and contribute (again if only time could stand still).

Undoubtedly, I was just as naïve as the people who believe Rajnikanth is a fictional character. Lost in the romance of activism (I still am), it took around ten meetings before I came to the realization that in the desperate race to prove their own organization was worthier than the others, each of the amazing Titans had somehow forgotten about the “cause”. Spending their days sitting in air-conditioned conference halls, delivering presentations with the aide of management speak with big words to explain basic problems they had all but abandoned the social realities on the ground. They had lost touch with the cause that initially led them to the fight for equal rights.

In my experience, there are only two variables, which will determine the likely success of such meetings/ conferences/ workshops or blue-sky thinking seminars: the venue and the goody bags. So what do you do? You have no choice but to meet in the finest hotels where upon arrival at the registration desk you are greeted with an Italian leather laptop bag containing a notepad made out of recycled paper (an informal rule of the trade is that at least one item in every goody bag has to be eco-friendly), a custom pen with the logo of the host organization (never ever forget the logo, your branding is key). You’ll struggle through the morning speakers and stare at your watch every 20 mins. Once lunch finally arrives, you are treated to an exotic buffet selection, which you’ll wash down at the open bar.  You’ll notice that the single malts are particularly popular. So the careful balance begins. Drink in one hand, platter of continental foods in the other, you’ll sit and discuss how to make India a better place.

What happens next? The scripted dialogue follows and I start to feel like I’m judging an episode of India’s Next Best NGO. Sir, you should hear about the amazing work MY organization does. WE are here to guide you, because WE have been blessed to be the leaders in this field. Got the gist? Yes, in a room full of social workers the only discussions taking place revolve around the merits of each of their organizations vis-à-vis the others who are utterly and completely useless/wrong/fake and should be wiped off the NGO map.  Why? Because we’re the best. To sum it up, it would appear that hosting a pow wow on women in the right venue, with the best goody bags and the most delicious lunch is leading its participants to act in a way that is devoid of any connection to the women in the field, to the struggles they face and the goals they initially set for themselves to make this world a better place. Somewhere along the way, we lost touch with our cause.

We can boast of a country with 1.21 billion people, the majority of which live below the poverty line, are chronically malnourished and wake up every day with the simple goal of surviving. I believe that in order to effect real sustainable change we need to be more inclusive and less skilled in our collecting of goody bags. I see the choice as a simple one, we can choose to distract ourselves with petty discussions stripping each other’s organizations of meaning or we can rally under a single umbrella. We can choose to strengthen and contribute to each other’s efforts under a new mandate for social change and become The Social Heavyweights that our country needs. I for one plan on hanging up my free Italian laptop bag. Will you join me?