Desicritics Category: Culture: Rural

India's Post-Independence Fight For Freedom

Aditi Nadkarni — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 00:55:37 EST

Let me cut right to the chase here. This is unacceptable. Let me say it again for emphasis. It is not just bothersome or even upsetting. It is unacceptable. In the 21st century, in a democratic, secular nation, what has been going on, festering like a recurrent lesion, sprouting in every part of India, is just, simply unacceptable and will not do.

In case you are wondering who it is that's going to stand up to it: we are. We will not allow our freedom to be violated and we will make sure we protect the independence we fought long and hard to get the first time around. We have come a long way. We have seen the change and been the change. So who better than our pioneering, hot-blooded breed to stand up to the revolting and shockingly regressive acts of a few who feel threatened by progress.

They are just acting out of fear. It is obvious, isn't it? They attack in packs, afraid to be the lone ones incriminated. They target women and assault safely from behind the vague curtains of culture. But we all know that it isn't their culture that is in grave danger. Their position, their power and the extent of their bullying is in great peril. The places where they once ruled the roost are now turning into big, bustling cities making them feel like small, insignificant fish in a big sea.

Institutions and companies have transported the educated, smart crowd into the vacuum in which these bullies once enjoyed unfettered omnipotence. Now, in place of the void, there is a young, vivacious bunch of professionals, men and women who work hard and party hard and do so shoulder to shoulder. These people are harder to manipulate. This crowd has not just taken over, they threaten to pull into their growing ilk, the younger ones too. Business are bending over backwards to accommodate the needs of this new species and everything that once belonged to the bullies is now up for grabs. So they are retaliating. They are like petulant little children who couldn't have all that they demanded, hated sharing and so now are acting up. Therefore it is up to us, the educated class to teach these spoiled little brats to grow up and stop reacting so bizarrely to change. We must do it in a manner that is as different from theirs as is humanly possible.

So now comes the big question: how do we do it? How do we make our presence known? The answer may seem too simplistic because it sits smack in front of our faces. Think about it: we travel through these cities like one stream of blood, flowing steadily, keeping the city alive, stuffed in trains, piled into buses, walking along the teeming streets. Even partying and a trip to the movie theater is all the more fun with a group. We work in teams and are all the more effective for that. We discuss films, fashion, clothes, the economy, the job market and even our health problems. Yet this fear of walking out on the streets of a free country seems like a personal problem, like we were alone in that walk, like when a bully arrived with his little gang and punched us in the face, we would be all by ourselves and the world around us would just suddenly go blind. What we forget is that in this lonely fear too, we are still together. In this anger against the unfairness of the situation, we are together. We can if we decided, be together in the one resolute determination of not letting a handful of insecure men undo all that we have put into making our cities. So the answer is simple. Whatever it is we do, we do it together.

We celebrated Valentine's Day battling fear and took the threats in our stride defanging the demons with the pink disarming humor of our proud underwear. With the International Women's Day approaching, it is time to get serious. In our busy, routine lives we have underestimated the power of silent, non-violent protests. All it takes is for people to stand at a side-walk with banners to get word around. Some major struggles were won with this strategy and somewhere along the line we just shrugged and rolled our eyes at the quiet potential of public demonstrations and satyagrahas. Maybe we started taking our precious freedom for granted and needed to be reminded that we simply cannot. We have to earn it and when someone tries to snatch it, we fight for it.

It is important, I feel, in today's world to use media smartly. Instead of constantly criticizing media's inadequacies, we could use it as a tool. Find a niche and throw yourself into the swift current of this ever growing medium. Find a female leader in your area who is looking to make an arrival on the political scene. Do a little research. If one political party is making your life difficult for wearing jeans and celebrating Valentine's Day and there damn well must be another party that will fight for your votes, or can be persuaded to do so.

Find a celebrity who is willing to make your cause their own or give your movement their support and voice. Find a television network, a newspaper or a magazine that will run your story and provide your opinions with a voice. Find an artist who will put your thoughts into a slogan or a creative, riveting poster. Write to your city officials, your ministers and drown their offices in letters of your indignant protest. Just remember that one or two voices are easy to be ignored. If you are fuming over a coffee mug at your kitchen table, take that rage to a medium that will express it in the most noticeable manner possible.

Haven't we whined about a dysfunctional system for too long? When has this "system" ever worked? Maybe we just don't realize that we are one of the appendages of this faulty system. If the system is not working, we, as a group could propel in into motion. What will it take for us to get off our bums and make a placard with a strong message on it? This is not a women's liberation movement at all. Genders cannot be fighting alone in a battle such as this one. It could be your sister wearing jeans, coming home from work. It could be your teenage daughter walking back from school or college, the neighborhood aunty who brought you food when you were sick, a dear friend or your colleague. Most importantly, it is them today and it could be you next.

Let us review what the odds are of your being targeted next. You have a very high chance of being next on the hit-list if you answer 'Yes' for any of the following questions. Are you considered an "outsider" in Bangalore or a non-Maharashtrian in Maharashtra? Do you party? Do you meet up with friends at pubs? Do you wear jeans or clothing that may not be considered "Indian"? Do you eat pizza or meat? Do you drink alcoholic beverages? Does your religious persuasion always match that of the political party currently raging a mini-war in the nation you know of as secular? Do you send children to convent or English medium schools? Do you have a spouse of a different religious persuasion than yours? Do you have friends of the opposite sex? Are you married to the girl you are driving home from work or who you happen to be having dinner with? Are you non-conversant in Marathi in Mumbai or in Kannada in Bangalore? Are you a blogger or a journalist who expresses their opinions about politics, culture, media and religion? In spite of your qualifications and the six figure salary, do you have no clout with the local law enforcement or political activists? Before you fall asleep at night you should take a moment to wonder which one of these labels will be tagged onto your identity and turned into a vice or a disqualification; which one of these labels will plant nagging fear into your routine as you go about working to make a living, partying to rid your stress and walking on the streets of a country whose freedom you celebrate once a year on a public holiday. India did fight a freedom struggle years ago and it is high time that yet another quest for independence begins.

As a civilized society, we must remember that curbed freedom is a disease, an epidemic that does not spare a gender or a certain religion. It has uprooted saplings of modern, free thinking from Afghanistan and left it barren under the regime of the Taliban school of thought. This disease feeds on your fear and on the social inertia that has settled over our generation. An active, proud and independent public cannot let this inertia set in. Let it be known that this disease feeds most of all on the little disabling voice in your head which tells you that this is not your struggle, that it isn't your battle to fight. Sadly, this malady spreads, swallowing in its wake our hard-earned progress, until the feeble voice in your head is one day replaced with the grim realization that your own struggle has arrived. The assailant and his prejudice have changed form and you are the next prey. And there is nobody left to fight for you or with you.

I Heart Pink Chaddis

Sakshi Juneja — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 11:54:16 EST

Let's get one thing straight – Implementation of laws in 21st century India is practically non-existent. Especially in matters where we have political farts going around terrorizing the aam aadmi under the hoax of safeguarding religious and/or cultural sentiments. Mind you, no one asked them to take upon themselves this heavy responsibility par boss es competitive environment main footage ke liye haat laat marana toh zaroori hain na. And so we have the likes of Shiv Sena, Raj Thackeray and Pramod Muthalik who will stoop to the basest levels and propagate the most ridiculous of excuses to accomplish their self-centered political agendas.

The State and Central Governments as always verbally "condemn" such acts of extreme ideologies but fail to put their words in action. While our judicial system continues to work at a snail's pace; arrests are made for formality and later bails are handed out, just as easily.

The fact of the matter is that this political "goondagardi" is very much a part of our everyday reality along with inefficiency of those responsible for securing law & order. Your security lies in your own hands because the government..er…gives a rat' arse about it.

Therefore keeping the above in mind, here's my plan of action :

Years ago, on my first day at junior college, my older brother gifted me a baseball bat. Not for the sport but for protection. I carried it in my car for almost two years. Did I ever use it? Well, let me just say it came handy in teaching some brothers a lesson in naari respect.

Today, since I am an active member of the "loose women" club, I bought myself a spanking red baseball bat. Along with six cans of Pepper Spray. At home I have urged my sister in law to enroll herself and my 4 year old niece for Karate lessons.

And I advise you to do the same. Set aside some money from your shopping budget, kitty party, weekend outing – instead invest it in a sturdy protection tool(s). You may think I am over reacting, and maybe I am. But don't they say, desperate times call for desperate measures?

* Important Announcement : Though I am not much of believer in ishq-mohabbat-pyaar, let alone the concept of Valentine's Day however this year I have decided to mend my cold ways. And to prove this, I am gifting not one but three Pink Chaddis to my dear Valentine, Sri Rama Sene president Pramod Muthalik.

Like me, if you too find Muthalik to be a hottie then do join the Pink Chaddi Campaign. Believe me you lurveeing can't get better than this, this Valentines.

Arkansaw/Arkansas

Blokesablogin — Tue, 6 Jan 2009 04:56:24 EST

"Arkansaw? I never knew anyone who went to Arkansaw!", was the most common response I got when I decided to visit my sister and family over the Christmas break. Equipped with a AAA travel book that included 30 pages of information on ALL cities and towns of any point of interest in this tiny state, right in the heart of America, I was quite excited about visiting the state of the Clintons, the only reference to Arkansas before my sister moved there.

While I did not bump into the Clintons as we did not go anywhere near Little Rock, we did get to explore parts of the Ozarks and Oachita "mountains". The state is called the "Natural State" as there is really nothing there but rocks and hills and some vegetation.

For a small state, it has many neighbors and we were able to cover 8 states and their capitals for the academic benefit of my 3rd grader. We flew into Tulsa, Oklahoma and were surprised to find a huge Indian population there that included Indian grocery stores and a decent Hindu temple (where we conducted ceremonies for my one year old nephew).

Parts of Arkansas and Oklahoma make up tracts of the Trail of Tears. Compulsory evictions of Native Americans in the mid 1800s from the East to the region West of the Mississippi led to mass migration of native people thrown out by a bunch of land grabbing whites- of course, the white ensured that it was all legal and "documented" as sales or as fair winnings. Otherwise, there would still be a border dispute like we have in so many parts of the world that were ex colonies of white colonists. We passed by Cherokee nation on our drive to Tulsa, Oklahoma, the land of the natives.

The freeways were "free" of traffic and I promised my 13 year old that I will send him to his aunt's house to learn driving! There was a laid back attitude in the air and for us super-charged (euphemism for super stressed) Californians, it was bizzare not to speed with no one around. American cars outnumbered their Japanese counterpart in these parts. There were mechanic sheds in the countryside that actually advertised that they repaired American and FOREIGN made cars! That sounded so much like a hoarding in some remote township in India!

People were content and not crazy about making MORE money. I met an artist who made stuff out of crystals (spatik) that are easily mined in the southwestern region of Arkansas. We even visited an open pit diamond mine- the only one of its kind in the world where you can get knee deep into fine clay with bits of gravel that just might turn up an odd diamond here and there- and take it home with you. I got a fine piece of Barite with a few chunks of crystal and 2 beautiful pieces of Jasper. If you enjoy getting slushy in fine clay and do not mind the occasional slide and fall into a quagmire, this is a must-see.

My sister who has taken up quilting since moving there, introduced me to the world of quilting. I spent many hours chopping up good material into small squares and rectangles and triangles. She sewed on her machine. Yet another American industry introduction.

Northern Arkansas has a network of underground caverns and aquifers that take you to an entirely different world, paataal. The cenotes of the Yucatan are very similar to these underground lakes. The artistry of nature that takes million years to grow a few feet of stalactites and stalagmites makes you feel so irrelevant on this planet. Of course, human mining of onyx from these mountains has destroyed many delicate formations and aquifers.

The spas in Hot Springs, relics from the past- closely related to the hot spring experiences of European spa traditions was a relaxing experience in a tub of hot mineral water. Thank you sis, for a warm treat.

Apart from Walmart, the largest employer in the area, there are not too many big businesses to keep everyone happily employed. However, there are crystal mines and whetstone mines that keep Arkansas economy honed.

Churches outnumbered residences, I think! I realized that I had officially entered a southern state, Virginia not withstanding. Small villages with less than 1000 people were the norm. The rural back roads hid many a junk pile in the thickets. Many a shack looked like their simple counterparts in India, but they all had a car parked in front!

For a big city girl, the rural experience was wonderful and relaxing. Of course spending time with my sister and her family could use a blog all of its own. But for public consumption, the city mouse visiting her country sister was an enlightening experience.

Maharashtra Shining? A Close Look at Rural Maharashtra

Gauri Warudi — Thu, 18 Dec 2008 08:58:29 EST

Is Maharashtra shining?

Well not entirely, but almost, you could say. Our wanderlust and my work (of making documentary films) has been taking us through a lot of rural areas and the experience has been amazingly educative in more ways than one.

Last year and the year before, it was a drive through a large part of coastal Maharashtra, namely Konkan. A roller-coastal ride, is how I had described my Konkan trip All through our Konkan trip, we noticed tiny hamlets/villages with neat houses, small clean courtyards and loved the Konkan hospitality. The towns however weren't very much to write home about.

This time we had a close look at interior Maharashtra-actually, just a slice of interior Maharashtra, to put it right. Our visit to Bhandardara (one of the prettiest hill stations I've been to, recently) took us close to Nature, in the folds of the Sahyadris and up close to Mt Kalsubai; though the regret of not scaling the imposing mountain, remains.

Coming back to our ride into the heartland of Ahmednagar district's, (Akole Taluka) lake villages(my term for those little hamlets)- one would've thought that being on the fringes of one of the largest lake- Arthur Lake- would mean zero water problems and a great pretty picture for these villagers, right? Wrong. All through our visit in these villages, we found, hardly any of them have water in their courtyards. Except for a few like Panjare, Samradphata and Udadawane, where we saw hand-pumps/tube-wells; all other villages have their women folk(and surprisingly, quite a few men folk too) walking a few kilometres to fetch water in pots precariously perched on their heads.
Talking to our guide, Sonawane, we realise that these villages have not developed uniformly. While many have primary and middle schools, toilet blocks and 'aanganwadis', when it comes to water- not much has been done to improve their lot. We question him as to why there were no waterlines to all villages. All he could offer in reply was that some villagers who could afford, had privately laid pipes for their farms, while others still had to trudge miles for this basic necessity.

Why just Akole taluka? Closer to Pune, in Zendewadi, too, while on a film shoot, I had noticed that despite a lot of prosperity resulting from horticulture yields and farm produce, water and sanitation were the biggest problems. None of the houses in this village has a toilet block!! While we were shooting here, we women crew members had a hard time! When asked, the womenfolk had nonchalantly replied that they all went to the fields to perform their morning ablutions!! Jeez and we think we have problems in the city. When I spoke to one of the more prosperous women there, she said, "If we have a toilet block, it'll need that much more water; when we have to fetch water on our heads, do you think we can cope with such huge water demands, as required to keep the toilet block clean?" Valid point, but then why aren't they too adopting the water conservation techniques followed by some other villages in Maharashtra? For that, she had no valid answer, except that their land was rocky and didn't allow for proper water conservation. I didn't buy that argument, cos there have been startling/shining examples of Ralegan Siddhi and Hiware Bazar(in Nagar district) as well as Gawadewadi(on which I have made a film) where people have helped themselves through sheer grit and persistence and made their villages self sufficient.

The government has been doing its bit for their upliftment, which is amply evident, through the motorable roads all along through the villages, sanitation measures (Hagindari mukt gram-meaning villages free from open air defecation)-yet the authorities have failed their rural responsibilities by not providing water, and electricity. Villages have 12 hour power cuts! It seemed that the basic needs have to be arranged for/struggled for by the people themselves; with or without the help of some willing NGOs.

On the positive side, we do see some move to install windmills, and assume it could be a stroke of luck for these poor villagers and that their wait for uninterrupted power will be over!!

We were certainly impressed by the cleanliness in most of the villages in the region we drove through. We could see children enthusiastically walking, running down from their homes to school, singing rhymes/poems and yes, schools had teachers too!

The 'aanganwadis' or play-schools, are another project that impressed me. While speaking to one of the aanganwadi volunteers, I was indeed touched to see how for a meagre honorarium of Rs 125/month, this lady (in her mid-50s)was doing her job with sincerity. She informed me that in her centre, women are attended to/advised from the first trimester of pregnancy and aided up until their deliveries. The child is then looked after until he/she turns 6 years of age. Women send their children here in the mornings and pick them up on their way to the fields. The teacher however rues that in spite of the school timing being up to 2 PM, mothers took their children away by 1130 AM or so. Well, something's better than nothing, I comment, to which she nods and adds that she teaches children to count from 1-10, recite poems, recognise shapes etc. There were bright posters put up on the walls with pictures of animals, places, people etc. (the aanganwadi was in a rather ramshackle, old room) and a toy horse and car were lying around on which a couple of children were still playing. It was an eye-opener, to say the least. Finding life's meaning in limited resources? Perhaps.

I come away in deep thought and stay that way for a long while as we drive to different spots; as we enjoy Nature's beauty in this part of the state, there are a thousand questions still playing on my mind, making me wonder when and how will we ever rise above all these basic necessities being fulfilled and truly become India Shining?? Beyond just slogans and jingoistic speeches, beyond vote seeking and exploitation in the name of growth.

*Disclaimer: This is just a personal observation and opinion-an ordinary Indian citizen's heartfelt thoughts-not some statistic laden paper!!

Saving India's Missing Girls

Somik Raha — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 14:10:15 EST

In the second piece of the Gems of the Planet series (the first was My Friend, the Landlord), we continue with the same criteria for our gems:

Feel the suffering of others as their own and cannot rest until they've done something to alleviate it
Have compassion for all, especially those they seek to transform

I found this gem in an unexpected place - a film screening at Stanford of India's Missing Girls, a documentary made by Ashok Prasad of the BBC. The documentary portrayed a grim picture and dispelled several myths:

Several women interviewed preferred male babies and would prefer to terminate female foetuses of their own accord.
Educated women too do this, especially in business families to ensure that the fortune remains in the family
In some cases, when the woman is unwilling, the family puts a lot of pressure, and sometimes forces the mother to abort
The director presented statistics after the film screening. The highest number of female abortions are done by Jains, followed by Sikhs, followed by either Buddhists or Hindus (I forget which). I remember being shocked by this statistic, because I expected Hindus to be at the top. Nothing can prepare one to accept that Jains are the #1 offender as Jain philosophy is the pinnacle of non-violence. I guess I am too naive to believe that people follow the philosophy they were born into.
The fact that women were electing to abort foetuses confounded the pro-choice people in the audience (should they say: we want women to have choice, but not that much choice?)

However, in the middle of all these depressing facts was a shining gem. The film revolves around a remarkable woman, Sandhya Puchalapalli, who founded the Arti Home in Cuddappah, to save female foetuses from abortion. Sandhya studied the circumstances that lead people to abort their female children, and she tackled several problems. First, she has a crib outside the nursing home that allows families to anonymously place babies whom they'd otherwise kill or abandon (with the same outcome). This takes care of the fear of legal repercussions, and saves the life of the baby who is then raised in the home in a loving environment with a focus on nutrition and education. Second, she keeps a strong connection with the community around her and knows who is pregnant. She then connects with them to talk about their aspirations for their baby. When they tell her that they will abort if it is a girl, she reasons with them in a remarkably non-judgmental way. I know many who'd hit the parents if they heard something like this. Not Sandhya. She goes back on a regular basis, explaining that a girl child is not useless and deserves a lot of love, the same as a boy child. The film follows the interaction with one couple and how the mother comes around from a position of fear to one of joy where she eagerly waits for her daughter and does not abort.

What makes Sandhya stand out from all the other activists I know is that, time after time in the film, she has only compassionate words for parents who decide to abort, particularly to avoid dowry. She says, "Just imagine what the parents must be going through to have come to this decision?" Even when she is face-to-face with the parents, she has no anger or hatred, but understanding and compassion. A poignant moment of the film is when Sandhya receives a baby who is born premature. After getting the baby medical help, Sandhya goes to the local temple to pray for the child's life. When the child does not make it, she is heartbroken. Even then, she has no harsh words for the parents who abandoned the baby.

Caring for unwanted children, feeling their pain and doing something to save their lives beyond yelling and criticizing in media platforms is rare. Generating compassion for the parents who feel compelled to abort their children and not seeing them as the "other" is rarer still. While one miracle is documented in the film (the change of heart of one family), I am sure she works many such miracles with her attitude. I sincerely hope I get to meet this remarkable lady in person.

If you are in Cuddappah and meet her, do share your stories with me. Arti Home is supported by the Vijay Foundation Trust.

Book Review: Sold by Patricia McCormick

Blokesablogin — Wed, 17 Sep 2008 04:27:21 EDT

Kim's recent post on Human traffic induced me to write this review.

Call me a Rapunzel, inhabiting my own ivory tower, but my "interaction" with "prostitutes" or the modern, politically correct term, "sex workers" has been nebulous at best, via mass media: a book, a news article, a documentary or a film (the first one that showed it best was Salaam Bombay).

Earlier still, before I knew the "gritty" details of prostitution and worse, human trafficking, my understanding of this "shadow" lives of people were these gaudy mujrahs performed in sequined dresses from Pakeezha to Umrao Jaan. I wondered what the fuss was all about as I loved those songs, be it Thade rahiyo or Inhi logo ne, In ankhon ki masti or Chalte chalte etc. I loved the Kundan Jewelery too as I did the gorgeous Lucknowi kurtis. The more recent Devdas with the gorgeous Madhuri made me simply swoon with the sheer poetry of prostitution- it certainly seemed like some fine artform!

Kamalahasan's violent portrayal of Krishnaswamy in Mahanadi (1993) where his innocent daughter is thrown into the brothels of Sonagachi find much resonance with this book. While in this film, the father searches for his daughter, the book is about a step father "selling" his step-daughter for a measly sum to pay for his gambling.

Little does 13 year old Lakshmi, our protagonist, know about prostitution or human trafficking. She sincerely sets out to be a "good" servant in the "big" city and help her family have a tin roof. Her pleasure in being given candy by the "kind" uncle-husband is soon shattered by the horrors of the brothel madam.

Strangely enough, the overly dramatic Mahanadhi with all the sound effects did not touch me as deeply as this book did, with its spare, free verses and deep silence. The author, Patricia McCormick has done an amazing job of giving "voice" to a shadowed "silence" of the modern world: Human trafficking.

Lakshmi learns very soon that there is no point in speaking. crying or shouting. She learns to swallow her tears and her thoughts and just become a "limp rag" and lie still as men come and go between her thighs. She loses track of time and has no idea of her even turning 14! The highly exploitative business model of the brothel ensures complete dependence on the "madam" until you die of disease or get beaten up for running away. She even gets enthusiastic in attracting customers to "pay off" her debts sooner and get the "hell" out of there. She errs in her accounting. she is taught a new kind of math where for all eternity, she will be busy paying off her interest on a "loan" she never borrowed.

This book set me thinking on the "other side" of the deal- the customers for this inhuman trade. Who are these "shadow" clients who support such a trade? Do I know one? Did I meet such a person yesterday or today? What will I do if I did meet such a person? Why would anyone want to tear apart a virgin 12 year old in the name of curing some disease? Why haven't education institutions taught these people that these are fallacies and not scientifically true? What can I, as a woman, as a mother, do to ensure such a travesty is not committed on any innocent female body that is far from ripe for sexual intercourse?

It was heartening to know that there are women's watch groups and help groups that are educating naive girls in Nepal and India about the dangers of human trafficking. Still, much needs to be done. However, what can we do to stop the "demand" for such "services"? It has been over 2 week since I read the book, but my mind is still whirling with ideas as to how to "identify" people who do visit such places and instigate such inhuman actions.

I am not sure whether I even want children to read this book (it is recommended for young adults). Do I want to "inform" the children or am I taking away their innocence? Do I have the "right" to thrust such horrendous reality into their young minds or should I just "leave the book" around for them to pick up and read?

Travel Review: Tusker Trails, Bandipur

Deepti Lamba — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 12:19:03 EDT

Its raining ants!! I shrieked and jumped out of the bed. That was the only negative experience we had at the Tusker Trails lodge situated within the Bandipur National Park in Karnataka, part of the vast expanse of forests spanning Karnataka, Kerala, and Tamil Nadu - part of the erstwhile hunting grounds, quite literally, of first the Mysore Wodeyars and then, the poacher-brigand Veerappan. There were ants falling from the roof of our room right on our bed. It wasn't the fault of the management of Tusker Trials. They told us that the rooms had been fumigated but ants have a way of returning, especially in the rains. Our rooms were immediately changed and we spent our night in Bandipur in relative comfort after shooing away a pony who toddled towards us for an apple or two in the middle of the night.

Tusker Trails has a beautiful rustic look to it and is reasonably priced. The food is simple but delicious and the service prompt and friendly. The rooms are simple and pretty and the swimming pool inviting.

The safari provided by Tusker Trails into the Bandipur forests was fun and despite lasting two hours the picturesque scenery and animals caught off guard made it an exciting ride.

We drove at least 40 km into the forest and saw quite a few animals such as the Dhol (wild dogs), lazy cud-munching bison, deer, sambhar but missed the leopard sitting on a branch right above our jeep as we were too busy clicking away at the Dhols!

Which, obviously, came as a huge disappointment when a Venetian couple who had been in the Jeep behind us later on showed us pictures of the leopard who continued to sit at the same spot with a huge bellyfull of deer. But as we drove back to the Campus we heard another leopard snarling in the bushes and spook the deer that were busy grazing. But we didn't get to view the elusive leopard.

Deer are ample in Bandipur and so are wild boars. Tigers are a rare sighting but our safari driver swore he saw one ten days ago.

We did see wild elephants who turned tail and hid in the bushes waiting for us to leave.

The weather was cold and the forests were lush filled with beautiful birds like peacocks, bulbuls, woodpeckers etc.

When we returned to Tusker Trails by about eight in the night, we were pretty hungry and were greeted by candle lit dinner and congenial company.

Early in the morning we went for another Safari ride but got to see fewer animals - some bison, birds and some memorable scenic views. Ideally the evening safari is better than the morning one since by the time the morning safari starts, the animals go down by the riverside and the jeeps are not allowed to access to those areas.

After the morning Safari we had a hearty breakfast at Tusker Trails and drove on towards Ooty.

Bandipur is a good weekend getaway for nature lovers and those who still want the city amenities such as air conditioners, televisions etc could try the new Cicada Resorts.

Justice Delayed for Dalit Girl Burnt Alive in Uttar Pradesh

Madhu Chandra — Thu, 7 Aug 2008 11:48:36 EDT

The world was shocked by recent news of a six year old Dalit girl thrown into a burning bush by the upper caste villagers in India’s largest state of Uttar Pradesh in April, for which justice, even after three months, is still delayed.

A Fact Finding Team consisting of an International Human Rights group met Kamlesh and her parents along with Dalit leaders from her village. The story of justice delayed and the denial of medical and financial aid have been reported to the fact finding team.

Kamlesh’s parents are still in shock, suffering trauma and feel great fear of what will happen, if the accused happened to be released from jail.

On April 29, 2008 in the morning, in a village called Trauali Jhanauti in Mathura District of Uttar Pradesh in north India, Kamlesh was thrown into a burning bush by upper caste fellow villagers for the alleged crime of passing through a house which lies on the roadside toward the open fields where Dalit women and children used to go for open toilet.

When Kamlesh’s mother Manju, eighth months pregnant, attempted to snatch her from burning bush, she was thrashed at roadside and fell unconscious. When Manju came to her senses, she yelled for help. She pulled her daughter out from the burning bush, by the time 80% of her body was burned.

Kamlesh’s parents did not have a single penny to afford taking their daughter to the Hospital; rather they took her to the local police station with the expectation that the police would help them get some medical assistance.

The local police, after registering the complaint, took Kamlesh to the Government District Hospital at Mathura. She suffered five hours at the hospital before proper medical attention was given to her. After 36 hours, she was transferred to a bigger hospital in the district headquarters and later referred to Safdarjung Hospital in New Delhi, where she was treated up to her present condition.

The physical condition of Kamlesh is still grim. No proper medication has been given to her. Her right hand remains crippled, the right leg and skin all over the body are cracked and unhealed. She still groans with pain. Immediate treatment is needed to fully heal the burns.

The little financial aid from government has not been enough to cover the medical cost. Kamlesh’s parents have taken loans from known friends and relatives to pay for the necessary medicines.

Kamlesh’s parents Saudan and Manju are illiterate and do not have any regular job nor fields to cultivate. They depend on their daily wages, which they hardly get 8 to 10 days in a month.

A local Dalit activist and leader of All India Confederation of SC/ST Organizations told the fact finding team,

“For years, Dalit community in the village have been the receiving end of caste instinct crimes such as the case of Kamlesh, but this is the first case that the police has arrested the culprit.”

Justice to Kamlesh and her parents for the crime committed against them is very shaky at this point. The accused and the upper caste communities are wealthier and have better connections with government authorities, through which the crime could be manipulated.

Kamlesh’s father Saudan says,

“Out of four names of the culprits registered in police complaint, three have been removed from the complaint and only one is arrested and put behind the bar without trial. We could be forced to withdraw the complaint against the culprits to compromise the case.”

The lack of sanitary facilities in the village was one of the root causes for ongoing crimes faced by Dalits of the village from upper caste communities. The Dalit village leaders feel that such incidents could be avoided in future, if sanitary facilities for Dalit communities were provided in their village.

Illiteracy, poverty, social oppression and lack of medical accessibility to the Dalits in the villages are the root causes of such atrocities and crimes. Economic and education empowerment of Dalit communities will play a vital role in delivering them their fundamental rights. Failing which, the economic condition of Kamlesh’s parents and alike of other Dalit families; will always fall short to give education to their children in the village.

Ignorance caused by the lack of education could be one of many factors for caste-based discrimination and atrocities, which Dalits have been suffering for years. Surely the stories like that of Kamlesh could be prevented in future through proper community-based education and amelioration of living conditions.

Travel Review: Camel Market at Birqash, Egypt

Kim — Sun, 27 Jul 2008 02:40:17 EDT

Egypt's Largest Camel Market, the Birqash Camel Market is 35 km away from Cairo. The best day to visit is supposed to be Friday, when the market is most lively in the earlier parts of the morning 7am-9am.

This market used to earlier take place in Imbaba, but as the city expanded, the camel market was moved to the suburb of Birqash which is at the edge of the Western Desert.

Hundreds of Camels are sold here everyday. But this is definitely not a market for the Animal lover. The animals aren't in pitiable condition, but they could be treated much, much better than they currently are.

Camels from Sudan are brought into Egypt on the 40 day road via Abu Simbel to the market in Daraw. The unsold camels are then loaded into trucks and brought to Birqash after a 24 hour drive. Camels also arrive from the rest of Egypt and sometimes from Somalia. These camels are traded for other livestock or cash and are mostly bought for farm work or consumption.

Photo opportunities abound, if you can get the angles right since the camels are almost monochromatic in color. The traders have wonderfully charactered faces and I would have loved to be able to take close up portraits and talk to them and listen to their stories. Unfortunately as a woman, taking close up pictures of men is not the sanest thing to do. And my Arabic is too limited to have had a proper conversation with them.

As an obvious foreigner, you will be charged entry to the market. (it has a gated entry) 20 Egyptian Pound per person. Then they may try to charge you an additional 10LE per camera. Once you enter, you will not face any obvious resentment. The traders are pretty welcoming of foreigners and try to make a buck or so by posing for pictures with them. There were at least 10 other foreigners the day we visited. The only thing to be aware of is to not behave like an Animal Rights Activist and they will pretty much maintain their distance for the most part.

The market extends inside for a distance with sections cordoned off by walls for certain traders. Small single level constructions provide basic housing for traders. The roofs of which are covered with bales of hay. There are basic ramps built for loading and unloading camels from the trucks.

Obviously not all the camels are sold and some of them may not be worth carrying back. Some don't even survive the truck ride to Birqash. Their corpses are carelessly strewn about the desert as you approach the market. There are a few pictures of that at the bottom. Please don't scroll to the end, if you are squeamish.

The Drive through the Nile Delta makes you forget that you are surrounded by the largest desert in the world and is very reminiscent of the UP and Punjab fields.
The River Nile in the background is of course, unique to Egypt .

Some of the camels have one of their legs tied to prevent them from running away.

Quality check of camels like horses is done by inspecting the teeth. This one showed us his teeth voluntarily.

Unloading of Camels

Sold camels being taken away in a pick-up

Some of the character-filled faces

Warning: The pictures below are quite gory. Please do not scroll down if you are easily upset.

Death is inevitable, but I wish they could at least dispose the bodies in a less conspicuous and more humane fashion, rather than just leaving it out to the elements.

Some of the facts, come from the Lonely Planet guide for Egypt

Youth Beaten To Death Over One Rupee

DeeptiA — Tue, 27 May 2008 02:34:21 EDT

How precious is human life actually ? We read all the time about thieves getting lynched in the rural and semi-urban areas of our country; as well as hang our heads in shame when some local caste panchayat or even the actual parents or relatives actually kill their own children pretending that their children have brought dishonor to their lives.

However, in a new low, you can actually measure how low the value of a human life actually is. It is Rs.1, that one rupee shiny coin that many of us in cities do not even claim can purchase anything worthwhile. In this incident, a youth ran away with a gutkha packet from a village shop in West Bengal, and was then chased by a mob that finally caught up with him and then beat him to death. This is a horrible manifestation of the new low that have shown for the value of human life. Don't believe me ? Read this article:

A 22-year-old youth was lynched at Dakshin Duilla village under Andul police station in Howrah on Saturday for filching a Re 1 pouch of gutkha (tobacco-laced pan masala) from a shop. The shop owner and other villagers involved in the incident are absconding.

The angry mob caught up with Rahiz near a bamboo grove, some half a kilometre away from the shop and beat him up with whatever they could lay their hands on, including bamboo poles and farm implements. Samanta and the others fled after the youth collapsed. Passers-by saw the youth and informed police. By the time police arrived, Rahiz was dead.

These incidents keep on repeating from time to time, and we also read about them and ignore them as no impact to our own life. That may actually be true, they may not have any direct impact on our life, but are a sign of the breakdown of law and order in the countryside. A mob can dispense instant justice, and the people forming the mob are sure that they will not suffer anything because of their action.