Survival

Some weeks ago, I decided to take a boat from Mora Village to Mazgoan docks. This is the shortest route to come to South Mumbai, which would otherwise take more than two hours, While I waited for the boat to arrive, I was watching the fisher-women at the docks and was amazed with the hard work that they put in. Mumbai, being a coastal region, fishermen go to the seas for fishing (sometimes for days) while women help in selling the fish. The work is shared equally by them and they are quite cheerful and happy to help each other.

My friend, who was with me, was attracted by the freshness of the fish (some of fishes were still wriggling in her basket) and prawns. She wanted to buy the fresh prawns but the women quoted very high rates (Rs300 for half kg of king size prawns). She refused to bring down her prices claiming that if she went back the next day to south Mumbai, she would get good price. While she sorted her catch, her man went and brought large chunk of ice, broke it into smaller pieces and helped her pack the fish so that it would remain fresh the next day. She told us that she would wake up early morning at 5am and make her journey towards town to sell her fish.

Some of them go to the market to sell the fish while others go from door to door. Women who come from far off suburbs use local train (luggage compartment) for commuting. Some of them have formed their own society and rent a transport (a tempo or a truck) to reach their market.

It was evening time and the man looked quite tired but he continued to help her.

“Your man works quite hard, I must say” I said, impressed by the efficiency of his work.

“He is not my man” she said, “We work as a community, we normally live as mixed groups where there is team work involved. The work is divided equally but it is never reversed. We don’t go for fishing at the seas nor do the men look after the house and babies”.

Although fisherwomen traditionally do not go out to sea, ancillary activities as critical as fishing itself - fish processing, vending, marketing, net-making, and so on - are primarily in women's hands.

“Don’t you think that your prawns are overpriced? Why are you selling it so expensive?” I asked her

She was quite annoyed with my queries and complained that there were no more fishes in the sea.

I did not believe when she said that there were no more fishes in the sea. How could that be?

But on googling I understood what she meant.

The current market-friendly reforms aimed at opening up India's coasts to large-scale commercial exploitation have posed a grave danger to the survival of these communities.

The fall in fish stocks as a result of indiscriminate mechanized trawling is the single-most worrying factor for the fishing community, and its impact on women is direct and brutal. The government has opened the coast to foreign trawlers that harvest all the fish. Private companies have taken over their traditional occupations, like net-making and fish processing. As a result they are sometimes left without fish and without work. Fisherwomen - who earlier sold the catch that the community's men brought in from the sea - are now forced to buy fish from large contractors.

With fish disappearing from the seas, fishermen face a loss of productive activity. In frustration, they turn to alcoholism. They borrow money for gambling. Their bitterness is an additional burden for fisherwomen, who struggle to hold their families together and cope with increased wife-beating and desertion.

So, what does the woman do? She was here now, almost 7pm in the evening, packing her basket for the next day. She would go home, cook dinner for her family, clean her house, put her family to sleep and would wake up 4am in the morning to go to town to sell to fish and bring some cash.

And here I was cribbing about the price of prawns not understanding the problems of a common fisherwoman, who though not educated, knew how to survive, balancing the home life and her working hours and wanting to handle the likes of me with grace.

Here we were, my friend and I, haggling about the price when we would buy the same without any fuss at the market place.

Devotion

Hindu festivals often see large number of devotees throng towards religious places and there are many such place in India.

picture source

But have you ever seen three million women celebrating a festival together with a small plane hovering above the crowd showering flowers over them?? This is the Kerala Festival for women

picture source

I am thinking whether the God attending to their prayers is male or female?

Tolerance

When a woman stretches to straighten her spine, to break off the chains from her body and mind, she is no longer an admirable bride.

The need to be accepted by the society is so strong, that she sells off her self respect and her genuine smile in the market of false pretentions.

And this is true in some influential families too. Dhristi was one such woman.

Dhristi laughed heartily at every joke that her husband made, showing her pleasure, or rather faking it. She catered to his every need. Her world revolved around him. She was a good wife. She was timid, patient and ever-ready to his demands.

“He is a dog” she once told me “a lusty dog, he has sucked the life out of me, if you have a choice don’t ever enter into a loveless marriage. I hate him.”

“If it is so bad then why don’t you just walk out?” I said

“I cannot. I won’t bring shame to my family”.

And she stuck on. There would be bruises on her body. Sometimes she would lift her dress to show me the dark brown circles on her thighs, on her tummy, on her back and sometimes on her breast

“These are not love bites, mind you, when he is drunk and I resist, he punishes me” she said “it hurts too much, especially when it bleeds.”

“Maybe, things will change after you have a child” I said, consoling her

“I wish I could, but my hubby hates kids.” She said

Thus, lonely she was, caged in the glittering world.

If she wasn’t a close friend I would never have known her sadness and her pain. But help, I could not. How do you preach freedom to a person who is deaf to the reasons?

She wore a mask.

At every party, women admired her jewels, her branded clothes and her impeccable etiquettes. They wished they could trade places with her, until the day, when I saw the shocked expressions on their face. I heard one of them call her ‘ungrateful’

‘Ungrateful’ for what?

At last, the peace envelops her as she lies in her coffin, dressed as a bride.

Perhaps, the world will never know.

Justice

Where is the justice for 'Thangjam Manorama'?

Six years ago, on July 15,2004 Manorama mothers surprised and shocked the world.
Sapan Aruna writes:

In the morning at around 10:15 am, Twelve women out of nowhere, stormed at the western gate of the 17th Assam Rifles Kangla and in an unprecedented act, of protest shed their clothes and challenged the security forces to rape them. Facing the AR gate with their bare bodies, they shouted to the Assam Rifles, “If you really have the craze to rape, come rape us’

They raised banners where was written in bold letters, “INDIAN ARMY RAPE US,’ INDIAN ARMY TAKE OUR FLESH.”

Photo: UB PHOTO

More than 50 women from different women’s organizations of Manipur came from G.M.Hall and among them, 12 naked bodies marched on to the Kangla gate and cried against the killing of Manorama , “You dogs of AR! Come rape us like you raped meitei chanu (women) Manorama”.

They wailed. They shouted, “We are all mothers of Manorama. We stand for our daughter Manorama. Come fulfill your lust. Play on our body. Eat our flesh. Come Indian Army. They continued their complaint against AFSPA with slogans, GO BACK INDIAN ARMY. Withdraw the Armed Forces Special Power Act 1958 from Manipur!

Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA) has been imposed in Manipur and most of the Northeast since 1980. The Act allows the army to use force, arrest or shoot anyone on the mere suspicion that someone has committed or was about to commit a cognisable offence. The Act further prohibits any legal or judicial proceedings against army personnel without the sanction of the Central Government

The protest of the women continued for about 45 minutes. Due to excessive emotion, more than half of them fell unconscious. Being surprised, some AR personnel watched the scene dumbfounded. They stood spell-bound. The scene broke the heart of the passers by. People even shed tears and closed their eyes.

There was no policeman when the women protesters sprang from no-where and staged their tear-provoking scene. Some minutes later, police officials along with Imphal west SP scolded the police officers for there were no women police. Disregarding the polices effort to carry the fainted women, the protesters used private vehicles to take them to hospitals. The women then tried to launch the same protest in front of the Chief Minister Bangaloo. Police arrested some of the protesters and dropped them at the gate of the office of the All Manipur Women Social Reformation and Development Samaj (AMWSRDS) situated at the palace gate.

As precautionary measures to control the possible drastic situations, the Manipur Government imposed indefinite curfew from 11am of the same day in Imphal East and West district. The D.C. Imphal West also issued orders under section 19 of The Cable Television Network Regulation Act, 1995, prohibiting the transmission of any particular program including news items.

That was an unexpected consequence of the custodial murder of Thangjam Manorama after rape."

But justice is likely to wait forever.

Freedom

There are days when I just want to scream, a real hard scream, something strong and loud that would awaken my whole neighborhood and bring them running to my door to release me and take me to a safe place where life would be much easier and bearable for me.

I wish to be free.

I don’t like sitting all day in front of this baby, clothing him, changing his nappies, warming milk ever hour. My back hurts on the days when he is in pain. I have to carry him and take walks, singing Gayatri Mantra, hoping that he will understand and find meaning in the verse and find some peace. Sometimes I hope this one-year child will feel sorry for me and let me rest. How do I tell him that there are other chores to be completed as well and that I cannot be pampering him all day.

There is food to be cooked. I have chopped the vegetables and even cooked the rice. I must keep the meals ready before mom arrives. When she is back from her work, she will make some chappatis and also help me with washing of dishes. It will be 5pm and I will be done with all the house chore and then I shall be able to stretch my feet for a moment of fresh air, just a tiny whiff of fresh air.

At 6pm I shall pack my bag and head towards night school. I need to study because I don’t wish to be a domestic maid like my mom. I need to do something more than that. I need to study. Sunita teacher told me there is future for me. The future is mine, she said and the time is now.

Nine years is the perfect age for me to dream. An age when it is possible to built the reality steps towards my lit-dream

If I wish to be free.