Friday, October 29, 2010

The Journey Begins

CHAPTER 1
It was a cool morning by Gujarat standards when I landed in
Ahmedabad on my second assignment in the state. The date was December 13, 2002. I
had fled the state three years back because of personal as well as professional reasons thinking that I would never ever return. But three years down the line so much had
happened that
it was not possible to deny an opportunity of coming back merely for
professional reasons.
The place had shot into limelight after the Kutch earthquake in
2001. This
was succeeded by one of the worst communal riots in Indian history
in the
succeeding year. Lots has been reported on the Godhra incident and
the post
Godhra violence that I need not go into the gory details again but
references to the events will keep on occurring as we proceed
further.
The only reason that I agreed for a second stint in the state was
that
whatever was happening was bound to have a very important place in
the
political and legal history of this country. I want to point out
that this
assumption of mine has proved to be true. All I wanted to understand
was the
how and why of the madness prevailing here. Simply saying that the
killings
or violence have stopped does not amount to prevalence of normalcy.
I just
wanted to observe the chaos all around and this exercise has proved
to be
very educating and amusing at times.
And the learning began on the day I landed. Not knowing the
Ahmedabad
airport norms I walked out only to be caught by a waiting
auto-rickshaw
driver who wanted to know my destination. I was to go to a room
arranged by
a friend on the western tip of the city and the driver looked
satisfied at
the prospect of fleecing me of atleast Rs 50.
Anyhow the journey and the lessons began. It turned out that the
auto driver
was a Hindu living in the walled city. My obvious topic of
discussion was
the riots and the just held elections whose results were to be
announced the
next days. He was more than willing to talk about the Muslim bashing
that
had taken place and took the route that passed through the eastern
banks of
the Sabarmati, pointing and recalling where killings had taken
place. I
could recall the names that I had read over the last several months.
The
stunners were to come one by one.
I asked,'' Why do you think all this happened?''
His reply was,'' It was bound to happen as the previous Congress
regimes had
appeased the Muslims to the extent of ignoring all their criminal
acts and
it was because of the Sangh Parivar organisations that the Hindus
had been
able to move with their heads high in heterogeneous localities for
the first
time.''
My next question was,'' Who will win the elections?''
The reply was, ''The BJP because it has helped us get even with
Muslims and
it has rescued us from their threats.''
The fellow had nothing to say when I asked him,'' Till date how many
Muslims
have threatened you or your family on personal grounds just because
you are
a Hindu ?''

Thursday, February 11, 2010

I had a dream....


I had a dream a couple of days back. It was not something that had to do something with ambition as I have never been ambitious. It was years back that I had struck a compromise with life that I would never seek big cars and fat salaries and in return life would just offer me a peaceful existence on my own terms while being far away from the rat race.
Coming back to my dream, I must say that it disturbed me a lot. It was something that had come much unexpected. In this dream of mine I was exported back to my schooldays and the year was 1984. Yes, I remember the year precisely because at that time I was in Class 7 and it was in that year that our Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was assassinated and this assassination was followed by a pogrom against the Sikhs. Well, my dream had nothing to do with the assassination or with the pogrom. It has something to do with a thing as simple as a paper plane.
What I saw again was a mischievous act to which I had resorted to in the social sciences class. My teacher Uma Hiteshi, a great human being who loved me a lot despite me being a naughty brat, was sitting on the teacher’s desk. I came to know that she passed away last year and it was yet another great personal loss for me. And it was perhaps my
continuing to remember her in my sub consciousness that she decided to come alive in my dream once more.
Anyhow, while she had sat correcting our notebooks towards the end of the academic session with the exams approaching, a naughty thought had struck me. Confident that I would get promoted to the next class and there was no use of revising my course in that autumn class, I decided to have some harmless fun. I took out a notebook, tore a page and made a paper plane. Making a paper plane those days, at that age, was a huge delight…..a very fulfilling experience.
With deft hands, I tore a sheet out of the notebook, gave it the required multiple folds, smoothened its wings on my palm and like any great inventor I wrote my name on it. Then came its launch from the window of my class and I was confident that it would definitely soar high on account of the strong late autumn, early winter wind. To my
childish delight it came true to my expectation and it did soar high and traveled a long distance away from the window.

But to my shock, the wind played the truant and after traveling a long distance, it
made a u turn and my sincere hopes and wishes that it does not re-enter the class were dashed. Not only did it re-enter the class, it landed right under the nose of my bespectacled teacher who was busy correcting a notebook. My name on the plane gave away my identity.

What followed was on expected lines. I was labeled a goonk, my ears were wrenched and I was promptly thrown out of the class. This was something of a routine. It was at this point that my dream broke. I woke up feeling thirsty. Saw the time on my mobile which read 5.35 am.
Then I had a longing. The craving to make a paper plane returned after all those years. I felt restless on discovering that I no longer possessed a notebook whose sheets were worthy of making a paper plane.I decided that I would borrow a sheet from the kids in the
neighborhood the first thing in the morning and I would definitely make a paper plane and once again write my name on it.

But I realized with horror once again that the notebooks along with their new form of
stapling and binding that are in vogue today are not ideal for making a paper plane. With the slopes of the hills becoming a jungle of concrete, there is no scope for the planes to soar high into the clear blue sky. The multi storeyed buildings would halt the plane’s flight and these buildings no longer allow the blowing of breeze and winds that would facilitate an ideal launch. So my agenda now is to once again put my dream into reality. I would go to the wilderness one of these days with a notebook that has sheets ideal for making a paper plane and indulge in that childhood luxury for the whole day. Perhaps this would be a befitting way of paying my respects to my lost teacher.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

An (HIV) Positive Life

It is my sincerest wish and hope that the two of them continue to live happily ever after. Interviewing them was both difficult and yet very fulfilling. They really were the “odd couple”. After all in a society like ours that is plagued by hypocrisy, how many such examples do we come across?
Let me tell you that Jadish and Heena were both HIV positive when I had met them. Overcoming their personal traumas both had taken the bold step of marrying each other and trying to make sense of life for others like them. I am reproducing the entire transcript of my talk with them on a hot April evening in Surat in the year 2006……

Q. Please tell me your name and what do you do?
Jagdish. My name is Jagdish Patel and I work in GSNP plus (Gujarat State Network for people living with HIV positive and AIDS) as a field counsellor.
Heena. I am Heena Patel and I work as centre counsellor for GSNP plus.
Q. Why did you get associated with this network?
Jagdish. Because the network is for the HIV positive people and finding solutions to the problems being faced by HIV positive people in the society is very difficult. It is easy to find such solutions when you join this network. It is easier for a person to become acceptable in the society because a network has a wider reach while an individual doesn't.
Heena. When I joined this network I was already a widow. It has been through the network that I came to marry Jagdish. After I experienced widowhood and eventually I came out of that, I can now help other widows facing such problems.
Q. Can you tell me something about your past?
Jagdish. I used to work in a diamond cutting and polishing unit. I lived with my brother for six years but when I tested positive for HIV even my brother started facing problems in society but he did not say anything to me. But I understood what he was going through. He suggested that I go back to my village in Jamnagar district but I came in contact with this network and I came to know a lot on how to face these problems. My biggest problem was that I was unmarried and if I married a HIV negative woman I could pass on the infection to her ad if I married through the network I would prevent the virus from passing on to at least one more person. Hence I decided to marry a HIV positive girl and set an example and thus contribute towards reducing the overall HIV positive people.
Heena. We were one brother and four sisters. I was the youngest and was the most pampered. I was engaged immediately after I finished high school and was married three years later. He (My first husband) was HIV positive but he did not tell it. He was scared that his engagement would break and he will not be able to find a wife later. After marriage we came to live in Surat for two years. He worked in a diamond unit. When I enquired about his frequent illness and repeated trips to testing laboratories, he refused to tell me anything and said that what is the point in my telling you? Then I told my brother who asked me to come back to my father's house in Rajkot. Later when my husband came there he was taken for a test and my brother told the doctor to give his report to him (my brother) instead of the patient. This scared my husband on how he would face the society when my brother came to know of his illness. When we came to know about it, I too undertook a test to find that even I was HIV positive but after eight days my husband passed away. My in laws did not want to keep me but I insisted that if they wanted to turn me out they would have to come to leave me at my parents place in a procession like they had come to take me from there at the time of the marriage. I stayed there but I was ostracized. My clothes and utensils were kept separately and no body interacted with me. It was after a fortnight of my becoming a widow that my niece visited me and after seeing the treatment being meted out to me she asked my father to call me back. My father came and took me back saying that he would keep me and during the next three years when I stayed at my father's place, my in laws never enquired about my well being.


But by that time my brother had married and had two children. Though he had no problems in me staying in the house, his wife started raising objections out of fears that her children or her husband might not get infected as I was going to live there till I died. There were frequent fights in the house. I asked my father to leave me either in an orphanage or a home for people like me. But my father asked my brother to move out. Then I came to know about the network. I married Jagdish and we have been working and living together for the last three years. We are portrayed as an example for HIV positive people who want to marry.
Q. How did you become HIV positive?
Jagdish. It was four years back that I fell sick and had malaria and typhoid. I had gone to visit a cousin who was admitted to the general ward of a hospital and it was there that I got these diseases as I was not aware that I was HIV positive. I had gone in for a blood transfusion seven year prior to that. Maybe I got the infection from that.
Q. What made you go in for a HIV positive life partner?
Heena. After I tested positive, during counseling I was told that if wanted to remarry it would be better if I married a HIV positive person. I too understood that only a HIV positive life partner could understand my pain and agony, particularly when I was sick. If I married a HIV negative person and he got the infection through me, he would blame me for life like I used to blame my first husband for passing on the infection to me. He would look down upon me. So I decided to marry a HIV positive person whether he was from my caste and community or not. It is the virus in our blood which was my consideration and I married Jagdish.
Q. Initially when you met each other, were you nervous about looking for a life partner?
Jagdish. I had reservations whether I would be able to adjust with a HIV positive girl or not. Our castes were different and my parents insisted that I marry a HIV negative girl. I had reservations on how I would ask a HIV positive girl to marry me. Would she accept me? I was HIV positive but the girl I would approach would both be HIV positive and a widow as well. She would have faced the problems of widowhood and what if her husband dies again and she gets forced into the world of widowhood once again. But when I approached her, I just asked her to forget the past and think about the future.
Heena. My father was against the marriage and told me that I should live with his family till I die. But my other family members like mother, brother and sister understood that being HIV positive does not mean that I will die tomorrow. They knew that I will continue to live and a life partner is required. Another thing was that as a widow my acceptance was not there in society. I could not go anywhere on auspicious occasions and could not even dress up properly. It was conveyed to my father that my acceptance would be there if I remarried. After Jagdish had proposed to me my sister told my father that even if he is not from our caste but we would lead a life together. She said that all that was required was a prayer that I do not return to widowhood. After a lot of reluctance my father agreed to our marriage.

Q. What role did this institution have in your marriage and how do you see the recent match making event organized by your network?



Jagdish. When we got married there were no guidelines in the network. Ours was the first marriage. Then the idea of a marriage bureau came into being. HIV men and female fill out a form about there age, profession and marital status. Then after two and a half years we thought that it was difficult to arrange meetings between individuals and hence we decided to arrange a match making event where people from all over Gujarat and sit face to face with prospective life partners. In the recent event four couples decided to marry.
Heena. This institution played a major role in my marriage. I was from Rajkot. At the time of my marriage my father was reluctant and the marriage was solemnized in Surat. By then GSNPplus had become both my paternal house and the house of my in laws and it remains the same today. Even today my problems are solved through GSNPplus only. We were displayed as an example of a happily married HIV positive couple in the recent match making event. We are the first such couple in Gujarat and it was conveyed that other people too could live and support each other like us. Going by the example four couples have decided to get married and the fifth such marriage is in the pipeline.
Q. Would you ever have met if there was no such institution?
Jagdish. Had GSNP plus not been there I would have never met Heena or thought about marrying her. The network has documented the HIV positive people like us and this is very helpful.
Heena. The network is essential for all HIV positive people. Other NGOs are working in this field but only GSNPplus has a marriage bureau. I worked in Rajkot as a researcher with an NGO but it was only after coming in contact with GSNPplus that I came to know about the marriage bureau and was able to meet and marry Jagdish. Otherwise I would have still been at my father's place and he would have wept looking at me. Now when my father sees me on television or in a news photo he does not feel that he is a father of a HIV positive daughter. Now my entire community knows about my HIV positive status. Now my father can say that he is proud of a daughter who can say in front of the world that she can live despite being HIV positive. I too say that I have HIV not AIDS and I can live with your support.
Q. Can you tell me something about your marriage? How was your marriage like?
Jagdish. At the time of our marriage my parents were reluctant. I told them four hours before my marriage and still they were refusing to allow me to go ahead. But at the scheduled time everyone came and the marriage was solemnized in a proper manner. Initially I had thought that the marriage would be solemnized as a mere formality and would be over in a few minutes but it turned out to be an elaborate affair with my family members, relatives and GSNPplus members turning up in strength.
Heena. My father had reservations on me remarrying and had not come for marriage. He had refused to allow my mother to come also. It was the GSNPplus that had supported me. But when I did not call up my parents for over a month, I got a call from my sister who asked me why I did not go to my parent's house after marriage? I said I was scared of my father. She said that it was not only my individual decision and others like my sister and mother had supported it. I went to my sister's house in Rajkot where my mother came to meet me and take me to my father's house. I was still reluctant to go but



my mother took me home. My father had wept seeing me saying how could he forget his daughter? He immediately accepted Jagdish and me.
Q. last question, what difference has marriage made to your life?
Jagdish. Before marriage I used to remain aloof. I did not talk to anyone. I was very confused. Everyone used to ask me why I did not marry? Was no one willing to give his daughter to me in marriage? Now everyone tells me that I have got a very nice wife who can fit into our community very well. I am very happy after marriage. I did not imagine my life partner would be so accommodating and supporting. Today I can proudly say that my life partner is priceless and I cannot live without her even for a moment.
Q. It has been your second marriage. How do you feel about the whole thing?
Heena. I shudder to even think of the days that I was spending as a widow. Jagdish loves me so much, gives me everything without even asking for it. He helps me with my medicines as I am taking treatment. When I am not well he doesn't let me get up and do any work. He supports me in my job also. We do our household work together in the mornings. We share the responsibilities of running our household after our job. It is my good luck that I married Jagdish. I have forgotten my previous marriage taking it to be a bad dream. I just pray to god that I get Jagdish as my husband for seven rebirths.

Monday, February 8, 2010

A walk down the holy town

It was some years back that the verdict had come about Hinduism being a way of life. This has continued to an issue of debate. India has also seen the consolidation of right wing religious forces in the last two decades with communalism, both majority and minority, raising its head again and again. In order to see how much has the common man been affected by the diatribe of right wing preachers, I decided to visit the most sacred of Hindu places ---the Har ki pauri—at Hardwar on Shivratri eve.
The signals that come from the place are something that is not being reported and perhaps it never will be. A trip down crowded narrow market at the Har-ki-Pauri reveals what an ordinary Hindu stands for. Take for examples the books being sold at the stalls there. There are heaps and heaps of religious texts starting from various Upanishads and Puranas to the different Kathas. There are hundreds of Chalisas for sale. The Hindus continue to accord the status of God to forces that have been reformatory in nature. For the first time in my life I saw a Chalisa dedicated to Sai Baba. Then there are hundreds of books available on occultism, tantra, mantra Siddhis and such stuff.
And at the same time these stalls are selling books which are bang opposite in content to those listed above. There are books on Kabir and Raskhan on sale which are picked up by the devout visiting the place with same fervour as they would pick up a copy of the Gita or Ramcharitmanas. I was surprised to see Saadat Hasan Manto's short stories up for sale. Right besides this was the copy of a book entitled 'Khallas---A to Z to Indian Underworld' and then there were small booklets on doctor jokes, female jokes and the likes. All this gets sold under one roof and the amazing part is that quite a few of these stalls are run by Sikhs. Those running the stalls say that most of their customers, who come from all corners of the country, do seek religious books but at the same time they pick up other stuff. Kabir and Raskhan continue to be some of the best sold books.

As one approaches Har—ki—Pauri, one is greeted by cacophony of blaring music. It takes time for a person to realize that the ruckus is the result of a series of stalls selling audio and video CDs and DVDs. These are mainly religious. It was enlightening to see a series of new DVDs being played on the Shivratri eve about Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati. Most of these were remixes of popular bollywood songs. It came as a little surprise that one of the numbers belted out in the form of a hymn turned out to be a video based on the popular Bollywood number Billo Rani from the film Goal. Instead of seeing actress Bipasha basu dancing around John Abraham, here was someone dressed as Parvati dancing around Shiva. Nobody even batted an eyelid!!!
More surprising was a video that showed a tiny tot Lord Shiva driving up to a tiny tot Parvati in a toy car and singing "Gaura (one of Parvati's names) baith bolero mein, main to teri khatir laaya (Gaura come and sit in this Bolero that I have brought specially for you). The quizzical look on my face was addressed by an old woman, probably from eastern Uttar Pradesh with the words,"The times have changed. I do not think there is anything wrong if youngsters take the name of the Lord in any way they feel like. After all cars and music are a part of our life today, so what if a spiritual touch is given to them." I wonder why the entire right wing moral brigade creates a ruckus over one odd painting by M.F. Hussain or one odd thing that comes up somewhere and is deciphered to be anti Hindu and hence anti India.
The same market sells a lot of cheap toys that are replicas of the ones that are available in big shopping Malls in the metros. One can easily come across a cheap replica of a Barbie Doll, a laughing Buddha and a Ganesha being sold at a similar price of Rs 10. "It is affordable," said a man smiling to me as he went on to purchase one of them. Before I could ask him anything, he told me himself,"I belong to Najibabad and have just lost my job in Punjab due to the melt down. But tradition demands that I cannot go back home to my grandson empty handed and hence I am purchasing this."

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Furore over a song

The controversy over singing Vande Matram is raging once again and I am compelled to travel back in time and revisit an incidence that places the whole thing in a different and much more humane perspective.
It was in 2005, the centenary year of the celebrated song, that the controversy over its universal rendition in the country was on. The union Human Resource Development ministry under Arjun Singh had called for the singing of the song by everyone and the Muslims were yet again in the docks being asked to prove their patriotism and nationalism by publicly singing the song, a thing which a section of the Muslims was not ready for.
As it was I was at that time reporting from the ‘communal cauldron’ of Ahmedabad that was trying to breathe freely after the ghastly Godhra and post Godhra events of 2002. in order to escape media debate, the Narendra Modi led BJP government in the state had come out with an order asking the institutions and the public to sing the song without making it clear whether the entire song was to be sung or just a portion of it.
Having been at the receiving end, a section of the Muslims decided to publicly sing a portion of the song. They decided not to sing that portion to which the clergy was opposed and claimed that singing this portion would amount to idolatry.
Having decided to take the certificate in nationalism and patriotism, this group of Muslims got down to erecting a stage in the area of Juhapura, which has probably emerged as one of the biggest Muslim ghettoes in the entire South Asia. They also invited the media for the event. Reporting for the BBC at that point of time, I decided to cover the event which was both topical and which also conveyed a lot through the nuances.
The biggest problem for the organizers turned out to be gathering volunteers to sing the song. Hence came the incentive in the form of a skull cap. I had never even imagined that to sing Vande Matram, one required a skull cap or any cap for that matter. The next problem was to hand over a printout of the portion of the song to be sung to everyone present since no one, including me, knew the song beyond its first stanza by heart.
Somehow, a group of about 100 Muslims gathered at the venue on the given day at the given time amidst a scramble for possessing the cap. The singing started. The first stanza went off fine. It was at this time point, when the second stanza was to be sung, that a large number of volunteers realized that in the scramble for possessing the incentive of a cap, they had lost the print out of the song. I could not help laughing along with a Muslim friend of mine while looking at a large number of volunteers shouting to each other in order to get a print out of the song.
It was at that point that I realized the state has much to deliver to its masses, particularly the marginalized before such things can be made an issue of. The primary issue before the nation continues to be not whether to publicly sing a song or not but the issues still alive and to de addressed continue to be that of hunger, employment, poverty, education and above all—the inclusive development.

My love for the futeball thru a letter to a pal

Dear Aditya,
Your mail just moved me. It made me come across something which I have been missing unconsciously in my life. She is a futeball (football to be precise), but that is how I have always called her. I have written twice on her but have not retained those pieces. The first one I wrote when I was just in class four. It was an english exercise and I had actually written a good hundred and fifty words on her as an autobiographical account. I don’t remember much but it had such lines as ‘’I was manufactured in a leather factory and was sold by a fat salesman in a sports shop.’’The next time I had written about her was in a state of elation—I stage when my romance was going strong and that helped me get philosophical once in a while. But the woman (You know who I am referring to) took the piece away.Today I sit once again to write about my love for the futeball. I have looked at her in a different way. I rediscovered my relationship with her after having read that you too had possessed one, a blue one, as a kid in Solan.In my case she has always been black and white. For me she has represented the black and white patches of life. Looking at her I have always felt that these black and white patches are inseparable and have to be stitched together to make a full round ball that might as well represent our lives.The air pressure inside her often reflects our egos---inflated, deflated or ideal. My futeball has always given me company, however lonely I have ever been.Imagine me opening the door of my house or hovel and just behind is a futeball. As the door opened she greeted me with her movement. Before I could even switch the light on, her form was visible in the form of a sillhoute emerging from the light outside. Above all she had always greeted me with a thud after she touched something.She was always there to move with my toes from one corner to another. She was something which I could dribble with my feet and hit hard when I was annoyed. At the same time I could always hold her close to my chest with my both hands….even put her on my head. She never complained. Would I find any other companion that can parallel her. No.Thanks once again of having reminded me of her. I will keep my eyes open for a sports shop once again in the days to come. Maybe our eyes (mine and that of a futeball in a shop window) meet once again. The flame of our relation burns on a high scale once again and as usual my desire to possess her once more makes me stop and bring her home………
Yours,Gops

Death of a TT Table

It is after a long gap of 18 years that I rediscovered the passion of hitting a ball on the green/blue topped table. After a long time I once again had the privilege of being able to descend daily on a table and enjoy hitting the top spins, the chops and the loops---something my departure from the native place and the erratic timings of my profession had made me forget.
Having rediscovered my love, I was reminded of the table at my native place on which I had learnt the game as a kid from my father, the table that had helped me practice for hours on end, the table that had helped be win some tournaments and carve an identity for myself in a small hill town. One does get attached to lifeless things at times. I still remember playing practice matches on that
table, placing bets with the prize being samosas, omelets and at times the all time favorite masala dosa at the local coffee house.
This table had been lodged at a small club of the factory where my father worked. It was one of those luxuries that we kids had at our disposal at that time. We saw to it that it was dusted properly and covered when the game was over. Our evenings revolved around the musical sound presented by the ball tossed over at a fast pace.
I had not visited the table since I had started working myself and ever since my parents had moved out of the factory accommodation to start residing outside the premises. It was last month that I had started missing the table. It so happened that while I was at my hometown I had a visitor from the factory premises. After the initial pleasantries I could not help asking about the well being of that old table — my childhood companion.
The tale that was narrated to me was like this. With the factory having gone on the path of slump, there were not many families residing in the premises any more. Amongst those who continued to reside, their kids were more interested in watching television or playing computer games. Above all, one of the senior most officials --- the kind of dictators that are visible in all private establishments --- decided that the table was a fit gift for his servants to try their hands on. Instead of transferring the table to some hall where the servants could have made some use of it, it was instead placed in a verandah exposed to the slanting drops of rain.
The servants never played the game but the rain lashed it off and on. Ultimately, the wood gave up its resistance and the table died an unnatural, untimely death.
"Where is it lying right now? "was all that I could ask.
"With the wood having dissolved, its skeletal remains are lying at the carpenter shop," said my visitor.
Ever since then, the child in me has been visualizing the mortal remains of the table like that of a human being, something that I have been associated with for years. I know its funeral will come in the form of its remains going into a bonfire. When that happens, I can't say?