Where displacement brings couples closer

J a nua ry 1 5 , 2 0 1 4 - Vo l u m e 6 I s s u e 1
Where displacement brings
couples closer
Many families, especially tribal families, who were displaced from their homes by the Pandit Ravi
Shankar Reservoir and, hence, lost the means to follow their traditional occupation of farming
and collecting forest goods, have adopted fishing as a new means of livelihood. Significantly,
women are joining the men in the activity, even breaching the male bastion of rowing boats, and
consequently, are involved in both earning and decision-making
INSIDE
She leads a fearless
crusade against sexselective abortions
2
Farmers realise the true
worth of RTI
3
PURUSOTTAM SINGH THAKUR, Dhamtari (Chhattisgarh)
“W
Their livelihood pattern and outcome
seem to have changed with changes
in the institutions of governance.”
says Suresh Sahu, a resource person
in the Azim Premji Foundation who
is studying the livelihood pattern and
strategy of these people.
Traditionally, the tribal people
of Araud depended on agriculture.
Fishing was not their cup of tea,
but after the displacement the
dam provides them an alternative
opportunity of livelihood.
“I don’t have any regret that our
village has been submerged; rather
I am happy today that we have been
liberated from bondage to the landlord.
He was exploiting the villagers with
low pay for their hard labour, but now
we are our own bosses and each one
is free to live and earn a livelihood,”
says Lakesh.
Dileswari’s family in Jepra Village
shared the same experience as her
husband’s family. “Here, except
fishing, we don’t have any other
alternative, like in the plains, where
people have land to cultivate or jobs
to earn a livelihood or work as paid
labourers in agricultural fields. So it’s
fine to join hands with my man,” says
Dileswari, adding, “My husband and
I enjoy working together.”
Post-lunch, she and her husband
cycle to the reservoir, some 300 metres
away from their home. They row
Photos: PST
hen
my
husband
suggested
that
I
accompany him on his
fishing trips in the reservoir, I agreed
happily. My father-in-law, who had
been partnering him, is now too old to
go out in the boat, and there’s no one
else except me to take his place,” says
Dileswari, 28, wife of Lakesh Netam
of Araud Village in Chhattisgarh.
The reservoir in question is the one
formed by the Pandit Ravi Shankar
Dam, popularly known as Gangrel
Dam, on the Mahanadi River. Aruad
Village, where Lakesh and Dileswari
live, is a recreation of the original
village which was submerged when
the dam was built. The villagers of
dozens of villages were rehabilitated.
Araud Village was under a
landlord, and most of its residents
were either landless, or owned only
miniscule parcels of land. While the
landlord and his family were able to
move to other places thanks to the
huge compensation paid to them by
government, villagers like Lakesh
couldn’t afford to buy land in other
places with the minimal compensation
amounts they received, and so chose
to stay in the locality, merely moving
to higher ground.
“In their native village they
were either farmers or agricultural
labourers and worked for the landlord
under an oppressive relationship.
A clearer shot of Lakesh and wife Dileswari paddling on their way
to the reservoir for fishing.
out into the reservoir, and Dileswari
mans the boat while Lakesh gets into
the water to lay his nets. They return
early next morning to collect the fish
caught in the nets, and sell them to
the traders who come to the banks of
the reservoir. They return home, have
lunch, and set out again to repeat the
cycle.
“Besides my old parents we have
three children – two sons and a
daughter; one is in school and two
are going to the anganwadi kendra
(government-run childcare centre),”
says Lakesh. Asked if he has dreams
for his children’s future, he says
simply: “I want them to be educated,
but I will not impose my wishes on
them. It is for them to choose, and
decide their own fate.”
The family lives in a little mud
house. A brick house is under
construction, but only the walls are
up, they are yet to make the roof.
“Although we are tribal and poor,
we do not have the BPL (below
poverty line) card, and hence cannot
avail of government schemes such
as Indira Awas, explains Lakesh. “So
I’m building the house with my own
money. The construction has been
put on hold for the last three years
because of lack of funds.”
After his father became unable to
accompany him on the boat, Lakesh
decided to co-opt his wife because
“you can’t hire someone every day
and get the same cooperation as from
a family member. Again, you have to
share profits with a hired person even
if you don’t catch any fish.” There are
other factors as well. When a husband
and wife work together, both have the
pride of earning and also, the woman
of the family gets to be involved in
every decision.
Lakesh and Dileswari’s story is
shared by others, too. Sunder Singh
Gond and his wife Shivratri have
been married for 25 years. Sunder
Singh, now in his fifties, says his wife
has been joining him on fishing trips
ever since their marriage. The couple
Lakesh casts a net while Dileswari
rows the boat at the Gangrel Dam
Reservoir.
has three children – two daughters
who are married, and an 18-year-old
son who is in college. If he returns
home early enough, he lends a hand
at fishing too. Says Shivratri, “We
women also used to go in groups to the
forest and row out to the small islands
in the reservoir to collect medicinal
plants and sell them to traders.”
Did she know how to row a boat
before she got married? It is Sundar
who answers: “Apne zindagi jeene
ke liye khud ko sochna padta hai
bhai sahib,” (You have to think of
something to earn a livelihood, dear
brother) There are around 10 to 15
such couples who are partners not
only in life but also in their occupation
– fishing. The men cast the nets while
the women handle the boats.
Thus, many families, especially
tribal families, who have lost the
means to follow their traditional
occupation of farming and collecting
forest goods due to displacement,
have adopted fishing as a new means
of livelihood. And significantly,
women are joining the men in the
activity, even rowing boats, hitherto
considered a male bastion in this part
of the world.

Give them support, child
brides will fight back
4
Where tribal women
demand their
reproductive rights
5
Women who made a
difference: the little
known stars of 2013
6
Life in a metro: residents
suffer as civic amenities
are lacking
8
Charged with ‘new hope’,
six women provide clean
drinking water
9
Sir, have you heard
anything about my
daughter?
10
2
January 15, 2014
FOCUS
She leads a fearless crusade
against sex-selective abortions
Life in Morena, famous for its dacoits, is ruled by a feudal subservience and fiercely patriarchal traditions, with women
facing discrimination and biases always. The district has one of the worst child sex ratios in India. The main reason:
aborting the girl child. Fighting against such a practice is one of Morena’s own daughters – jeans-clad Asha Singh who
sports short hair and rides a bike. Life changed for her when she came across a case of rape and then understood how
badly things were loaded against women. Her one goal today is to end the discrimination against the girl child
PAMELA PHILIPOSE, Morena (Madhya Pradesh)
T
of a family dispute. “My mother did
not have much of an education – she
was a fifth standard dropout – but
she was instinctively independent
minded. After father left, she chose
not to go back to her parents’ home,
as other women in her situation may
have, and instead brought up her
five children on her own in Morena.
The family owned a hotel business
and that provided financial support,”
recalls Asha.
Unusually for a family in the
region, the Singh daughters were not
discriminated against in any way.
They were given the freedom they
needed, with the sole stipulation that
they must not bring dishonour to the
family name. During her growing up
years, Asha kept testing the limits of
that freedom. She says, “I was drawn
to athletics and delighted in running
the marathon. I also played cricket
and since there wasn’t a separate
women's league, I played with young
men in the Indore and Gwalior cricket
clubs. I still remember Sidhu and
Azharuddin coming in to train us.”
People would complain to her
mother about her behaviour, saying
that she spent far too much time in the
company of boys. Fortunately, both
her mother and her elder brother’s
wife had immense faith in her. Their
confidence was rewarded, when she
went on to win the marathon in her
Photos: PP/WFS
he district of Morena in
Madhya Pradesh is marked
by the scarred landscape of
the Chambal ravines that straddle
it. Life here is governed by a feudal
subservience and fiercely patriarchal
traditions, with women facing
discrimination and biases at every
stage of their lives.
The 2001 Census only underlined
this reality when it revealed that
Morena District was one of the 10
worst performing districts in India in
terms of its child sex ratio. Its CSR
stood at 829 girls for every 1000
boys, as compared to the national
average of 927 girls
There is something particularly
telling, therefore, that it was a
daughter of Morena who made
the crusade against sex-selective
abortions her own. Meet Asha Singh,
now in her early forties. She wears
her hair short, prefers to don jeans
and can ride the motorbike as well
as any Chambal dacoit. Born in the
small town of Morena, the district’s
headquarters, she has been able to
project the issue of the declining sex
ratio at the national level.
Asha believes it was her early
childhood that made all the difference
to the way her life took shape. Born
into a Rajput family, it was her mother
who brought her up – her father
having had to leave the home because
Singh wears her hair short, prefers to don jeans and can ride the
motorbike as well as any Chambal dacoit.
district and received a bicycle as a
trophy. She used that bicycle to win a
14-kilometre cycling championship.
The drive to set new goals and excel
came to mark Asha’s personality: “For
me everything was like a challenge”.
Incidentally, her record of having
won the sports championship for five
years while in college for her graduate
and post-graduate studies remains
unbroken. She was considered the
champion among champions and
also participated in several inter-club
cricket tournaments.
But along with the fun and games,
Asha was also getting ambitious
about her professional future. “I
had completed my graduation and
post-graduation in political science
but felt I needed a proper job. This
led me to do my LLB,” she says.
Training in legal studies introduced
her to concepts such as human rights.
For the first time a woman who had
always considered herself “one of
the boys”, now understood that there
was something known as gender
discrimination. The realisation made
her decide to work for the rights of
women and children.
The culture in which Asha had
grown up had glamorised masculinity
and made heroes out of gun-toting
dacoits. It also accorded the most
horrendous treatment to women.
What was to be a turning point in
Asha’s trajectory as a lawyer was a
case of rape that came to her, “The
husband of the raped woman, after
filing a case against his wife’s attacker,
agreed to withdraw it because the
rapist had offered him two bighas
(unit of measurement of area) of land
as a bribe. I was so angry with his
behaviour that I went up to him and
asked, ‘Is this all you value your wife
– two bighas?’ The woman herself
was shaken but told me in piteous
tones that she had no option but to go
along with her husband.”
The case proved how heavily the
system was loaded against women.
After the 2001 Census revealed that
Morena and adjoining Dholpur, in
Rajasthan, were among India’s 10
worst districts in terms of skewed
sex ratios, Asha involved herself
in a series of road shows on the
declining sex ratio, conducted by the
Madhya Pradesh Voluntary Health
Association.
The experience helped her
understand the links between
skewed sex ratio, on the one hand,
and discriminatory practices such as
dowry, on the other. “I remember one
boy coming up to me during one of
our halts, saying, ‘We don’t ask for
dowry, our parents ask for it. They
have paid for our education and we
are obliged to follow their diktat.’ His
words made me realise that it is vital
for society in general to understand
the women-related laws in our statute
books,” says Asha.
Taking her newfound interest in
the sex ratio to the next level, Asha
participated in a research study,
entitled Building Families, Building
Gender, which inquired deeper into
the phenomenon of son preference
and daughter aversion in northern
India. It brought her face to face
with several social hypocrisies. She
elaborates, “I would be amazed to see
that if a buffalo died in a village, the
whole community would gather to
commiserate with the family, but if a
female infant died, nobody bothered
to mourn. The pressure on daughtersin-law to have sons was so bad that
many young hapless women were
seriously affected. As for doctors,
not one of them took the law against
sex-selective abortions seriously;
they were openly conducting these
procedures.”
Ending discrimination against
daughters now became Asha’s most
important objective. In 2004, when
the Dholpur-based organisation,
Prayatn,
in
partnership
with
ActionAid, began the Chahat Hai
Jeene Ki (CHJK which translates to
‘desire to live’) intervention, Asha
came on board. “We realised that
since doctors had strategised on ways
to protect themselves from the law,
we too needed to think of ways to
come together to counter them. So
we learnt to pit one doctor against the
other to get information out of them,”
she recalls.
Asha and her colleagues discovered
that sex-selective abortions in Morena
town were usually done under the
cover of darkness, with foetuses being
discarded late at night. She personally
supervised sting operations under the
CHJK project. In fact, once when she
happened to be in Gaya, Bihar, with
noted anti-sexing lawyer and activist,
Asha Singh, a Morena-based
lawyer, has been able to project
the issue of the declining sex ratio
at the national level.
Varsha Deshpande, she posed as a
pregnant woman wanting to test the
sex of her child in order to expose a
local doctor.
The one thing Asha was not, was
feeble-hearted. She confronted the
violators of the law without fear, “I
would ask doctors who had conducted
such procedures how they could sleep
at night.”
Today, Asha is on the PCPNDT
(Pre-Conception
and
Pre-Natal
Diagnostic Techniques) advisory
committee of Morena District and
is also on the National Inspection
and Monitoring Cell at the all-India
level. Over the last decade, she has
seen a lot of positive changes but
understands clearly that the declining
sex ratio is an issue that will continue
to haunt India for decades to come,
and she for one is ready to do her bit.
Says she, “It disturbs me that modern
technologies, meant to improve
health care are being used in such a
destructive manner. As a proud mother
of a daughter, this is one social cause
that has become a personal one.” 
(Courtesy: Women's Feature Service)
3
Ja n u a ry 15, 2014
Cultivator and messiah
Farmers realise the
true worth of RTI
Photo: LHWRF
The entire experience of the passage of the RTI Act has been a lesson in
first integrating grassroots concerns with national level legislation and,
secondly, the potential of people's campaigns to remove misgivings
and build a consensus for highly desirable legislation. Today, poor
and illiterate people in rural India realise that RTI and social audits are
important tools in their struggle for livelihood and survival
BHARAT DOGRA, New Delhi
The Lupin Human
Welfare and Research
Foundation helps local
farmers with a bent for
innovation to maximise
their potential and set
an example for others
to follow
P
overty alleviation in India’s
rural areas through scientific
advancement of the agriculture
sector needs hard work, proper
guidance and dedication over
a period of time. This can lead
to the shaping of leaders within
communities. The resource persons
can act as mentors and advisors
for small and marginal farmers and
help improve agricultural practices.
One such rural advisor who
makes use of traditional skills and
has an aptitude for innovations has
made his presence felt in Jaraila
Village of Rupbas Panchayat Samiti
in Rajasthan’s Bharatpur District.
The farmers in the region regularly
approach Bachchu Singh when
their plants fall prey to disease, and
also to find out how to sow crops in
accordance with weather conditions
or for information on the quality of
seeds.
Bachchu Singh has received
guidance and training from about
20 Krishi Vigyan Kendras, four
agricultural universities and a
number of agricultural scientists. The
Lupin Human Welfare and Research
Foundation (LHWRF), based in
Bharatpur, has also provided him
guidance. Singh is himself a leading
cultivator of fruits and vegetables in
the region.
Though he has no formal
education, Singh has always
wanted to do something new and
innovative in place of traditional
agriculture,
something
which
could generate better income. He
received guidance at a farmers’
fair organised by Govind Vallabh
Pant
Agricultural
University,
Pantnagar, Uttarakhand, where
he was sent by LHWRF, before
starting cultivation of cauliflowers
and chillies. He was one of the five
farmers who were given 50 per
cent subsidy by the LHWRF. As a
result of the support, Singh now
harvests cauliflowers three times
every year and sells the vegetable
till the month of June.
Singh has also installed drip
irrigation equipment in his field
and started using bio-fertilisers
instead of chemical fertilisers.
He advises farmers to go for
bio-products and reduce their
dependence on artificial chemical
products, to bring down input
costs and improve the quality of
agricultural produce.
LHWRF executive director Sita
Ram Gupta says Bachchu Singh
has fully utilised his agricultural
field to grow several varieties of
cauliflowers and chillies. Different
kinds of cauliflowers are used in
the food served at marriages and
other functions, to make pickles
and for regular consumption as a
vegetable.
Gupta points out that Bachchu
Singh utilises his knowledge of
different breeds of vegetables
to sell them at various places
during different seasons. He gets
good prices for his produces in
the mandis (farmers’ markets) at
nearby Agra and Fatehpur Sikri,
where a lot of vegetables are
needed to cater to the requirements
of hotels which receive large
numbers of tourists.
Gupta adds that LHWRF will
arrange training and subsidy for
Singh to enable him to install a shed
in his field for growing vegetables
throughout the year. Farmers in
Jaraila and nearby villagers have
followed Singh’s lead and started
vegetable cultivation in place of
traditional agriculture to get high
prices all through the year.

Kalyan Singh Kothari, Jaipur
W
Photo: MKSS
Bacchu Singh immersed in work on a farm.
hile
the
Right
to
Information (RTI) has
made tremendous advances
as a crucial democratic right in
several countries in recent years,
an important distinguishing feature
of India's experience relates to
the remarkable recognition of the
potential of this right by peasants and
workers. They raised the demand for
the right to information as an integral
part of their struggle for livelihood
and survival and persistently pursued
the demand for several years till a
strong RTI legislation was actually
enacted.
During the 1990s, activists of a
newly-formed organisation, Mazdoor
Kisan Shakti Sangthan (MKSS or
Organisation for Empowerment
of Workers and Peasants) were
involved in a spate of struggles
for enforcement of legal minimum
wage laws in drought relief and
related works in Central Rajasthan.
There were protest rallies, refusal
to accept less than legal wages,
indefinite fasts, leading to some
success and some failure. Review
meetings held at 'headquarters' - a hut
in Devdungri Village of Rajsamand
District - increasingly revealed
that the struggles would be helped
greatly if workers and activists could
see papers such as muster rolls and
measurements of work.
Whenever they had unofficially
gained access to the papers using
contacts with officials, it had proved
very helpful for winning legal dues
for the workers. But such contacts
could not be tapped every time.
Hence, efforts had to be made to get
the legal right to the information.
This was the small beginning of a
big movement which had to traverse
many paths and cross many hurdles
before the RTI legislation was finally
enacted in 2005.
As MKSS activists (like Nikhil
Dey, Shankar Singh, Lal Singh, Aruna
Roy and numerous ordinary workers
and peasants) started organising
dharnas (sit-ins) on the issue, they
got an amazing response from a
variety of people who could see the
potential of people's empowerment
in the demand for RTI. Many other
grassroots organisations in Rajasthan
and elsewhere, working with the rural
and urban poor, were quick to join the
mobilisation.
Another remarkable aspect of the
movement was its special ability
The Organisation for Empowerment of Workers and Peasants has
been associated with struggles to get minimum wage laws enforced.
Eventually, people’s power has triumphed.
to build bridges with eminent
academicians, journalists,
legal
luminaries, even political leaders
and bureaucrats, who accepted the
importance of transparency. Very
soon, activists from Rajasthan and
elsewhere were working with a
distinguished group consisting of
representatives from various fields to
prepare a draft law on RTI. The Press
Council of India and the Lal Bahadur
Shastri Academy made important
contributions. The efforts were helped
by earlier attempts to prepare such
drafts by, among others, Common
Cause in Delhi and a consumer rights
organisation in Ahmedabad.
The
V.P.
Singh-led
Union
Government
and
some
state
governments had initiated some steps
and Anna Hazare's movement against
corruption in Maharashtra had also
helped spread the message of the
need for RTI.
The ability of activists from
Rajasthan to integrate their grassroots
concerns with the need for the right
to information at the national level
played rich dividends, as the struggle
for an RTI law now needed continuity
and an organisational base. The
formation of the National Campaign
for People's Right to Information
(NCPRI) provided the campaign an
organisational base and badly needed
continuity.
It was due to the continuity in the
effort that various aspects of the law
could be discussed in detail and a
broad consensus reached about the
essential components and the non-
negotiable aspects. Mobilisation on
the part of the NCPRI and related
organisations was so successful that
despite earlier reservations among
most political parties, at the time of
the passing of this law there was very
little opposition and its enactment
was hailed very widely and rightly as
a memorable victory for democracy.
The over-a-decade-long campaign
helped to remove many misgivings,
and genuine support continued to
grow. What had appeared a very
distant (if not impossible) goal till a
decade back became a reality. The
achievement was almost on the basis
of a consensus and without bitterness
or suspicions.
This entire experience has been a
lesson in first integrating grassroots
concerns
with
national level
legislation and, secondly, the potential
of people's campaigns to remove
misgivings and build a consensus for
highly desirable legislation.
The Right to Information campaign
and social audits grew so organically
out of the initial struggles of the MKSS
for the rights of the poorest sections,
that the poor and illiterate people
where it took root can recognise the
true worth of RTI and social audits
better than even urban educated
people. This is the true strength of
the RTI movement in the MKSS
region. It was a great achievement of
MKSS that it could take forward the
initiative to a national level and play a
major role in getting some of the best
talents at very senior levels together
for a national campaign.

4
January 15, 2014
Give them support and child brides
will most likely fight back
The incidence of child marriages nationally is coming down. But the pace of change is excruciatingly slow: from 54
per cent in 1992-93 it came down to 43 per cent in 2007-08. According to the District Level Household and Facility
Survey, 2007-08, in India, 43 per cent women aged 20 to 24 are married before they turn 18. These are girls who drop
out of school, who are vulnerable to sexual violence and who may not survive their first pregnancy. Stopping underage
marriages is very much work-in-progress. But there is hope because girls are increasingly seeking their own version
of ‘Happily Ever After…’ and many have proved capable of fighting their own battles
T
This April, Sargara’s world was
turned upside down when her
“husband’s” parents showed up to
claim her. Although she opposed
the move, Sargara knew her parents
would not be able to stand up to the
social pressures, so she ran away and
took refuge with a local civil society
organisation, which managed to get
her marriage annulled under The
Prohibition of Child Marriage Act,
2006.
Sargara’s is one of the first cases
of its kind in India and the fact that
it happened in Rajasthan, where more
than 50 per cent girls marry before
they turn 18 (DLHS-3), is good news.
Media reports quoted Sargara as
saying, “I feel light and free since the
annulment. …I would like to learn
tailoring and start my own boutique...
Eventually I will trust my parents to
find me a good match… But it would
be my choice. And as a human being
I have that right.”
Saragara certainly does, as do
other like her. According to Dr
Shanta Sinha, chairperson, National
Commission for the Protection
of Child Rights (NCPCR), “Girls
detest child marriage. During my
interactions, I have found each one
revealing how they hated being alone
with the man, how scared they were.”
Sinha further points out that a child
bride bears the trauma of becoming a
mother even before she has lived her
own childhood.
Yet, such marriages continue
to happen. “There is always a
Photo: MV Foundation
he figures are self-explanatory:
the District Level Household
and Facility Survey (DLHS-3)
reveals that 66.6 per cent girls aged
between 15 and 19 are more likely
to experience complications during
childbirth as compared to 59.7 per
cent women in the age group 30-34.
The story of Mallamma from Andhra
Pradesh’s Muddanageri Village in
Kurnool District puts the threat in
perspective.
At 15, Mallamma was married off
against her will. Initially, when her
husband pestered her to have a child,
she resisted. But later, she gave in.
Mallamma’s first child did not live for
long. She then gave birth to two more
children, neither of whom survived.
Severe health complications followed,
which resulted in a hysterectomy.
Mallamma can never become a
mother now.
Depressing though all this may
be, there are also signs that balika
vadhus, or child brides, are ready to
put up a stiff fight against the injustice
they have been bearing in the name of
tradition. Earlier this year in Jodhpur,
when Laxmi Sargara, 18, stood in
front of cameras with a court order
that annulled her child marriage,
she provided an insight into the
transforming mindset of adolescent
girls. After her grandmother passed
away, Laxmi, 1, was married off to
Rakesh, 3, as per a local custom that
dictates that when an elderly relative
dies a younger relative should get
married to keep away the bad spirits.
Early marriages are still very common in India, with 43 per cent
women aged 20 to 24 being married off before they turn 18.
grandparent in the family who is
dying and who wants to see the child
married. There are always parents
who have ‘given their word’ and
leave their daughters with no choice.
Thankfully, this is a declining trend.
Girls who get support are willing to
speak up now,” she comments.
Sinha was part of a panel of
eminent Indians and international
personalities, who agreed to become
champions to end child marriage at
an event jointly hosted by The Elders
and the Population Foundation of
India (PFI) in Delhi earlier this year.
Nobel Peace laureate Archbishop
Desmond Tutu of South Africa, chair
of The Elders, had then memorably
commented, “India is a great nation
and will only benefit from enabling
girls and women to play their full part
in building the future of the country.
Let girls be girls, not brides."
Today, both encouragement and
assistance is readily forthcoming,
whether it’s through government
initiatives or NGO networks. Experts
and activists concur that the way out
lies at two levels. There are longterm measures, like enforcing the
laws on the right to education and the
prohibition of child marriage.
There are also effective short-term
solutions. Take Rajasthan’s successful
campaign in the run up to Akha Teej.
Deepak Kalra, chairperson, Rajasthan
State Commission for the Protection
Child Rights, elaborates, “In
Rajasthan, marriages are solemnised
as per auspicious dates, called savas.
This year, we asked a Hindu priest
to give us the dates for the savas in
advance. Akha Teej, one of the eight
major savas, fell on April 24. We
collaborated with the Women and
Child Development department and
mounted a large-scale campaign.”
From district collectors to the police
to anganwadi (nursery) workers,
everyone was involved. Control rooms
were set up and the 1098 number was
used to register calls of complaints.
Local control room numbers were
also publicised in schools. Complaints
were accepted even in cases where
the complainants were unwilling to
reveal their identities. Reveals Kalra,
“That week, we were able to prevent
1400 weddings, which was the total
number of weddings stopped in the
whole year in 2011.”
Although Kalra is satisfied with
this effort, she knows that the pace of
activity and advocacy could slacken
Photo: WFS
ADITI BISHNOI, Delhi
Where reality meets fiction: Jodhpur's Laxmi Sargara (left) with the
lead actor of a popular TV show about the struggles of child brides.
Sargara created a stir when her marriage was annulled under
The Prohibition of Child Marriage Act, 2006.
over time, so she emphasises the
importance of providing quality
education to girls. “Girls today want
better opportunities in life. We need
more schools at the village-level that
give good education,” she asserts.
R. Venkat Reddy, national convenor
of MV Foundation, a Hyderabadbased NGO working on education and
protection of child rights in Andhra
Pradesh, underlines the hurdles faced
by girls accessing higher education,
“In many villages, there are still
hardly any schools for girls beyond
Class Five in the immediate vicinity.
This, combined with deficiencies
like the lack of toilets and proper
transportation, make parents reluctant
to send their daughters to the higher
classes.”
A possible solution to the problem
has been found from within the
community. Helping to keep girls
in school are youth groups that
have come up across the country.
For instance, Andhra has Balika
Sanghas, Rajasthan has Bal Manches
and Bihar, Jagriti youth clubs. The
NCPCR, too, has created a force of
bal bandhus (child rights’ defenders)
in nine districts across the five states
of Andhra Pradesh, Assam, Bihar,
Chhattisgarh and Maharashtra, that
are facing acute civil unrest. Had it
not been for the timely action taken
by Mukesh Paswan, the bal bandhu of
Parsauni Kapoor Gram Panchayat in
East Champaran District, Bihar, Jyoti
Kumari, 13, Class Five student at
Kasturba Gandhi Balika Vidhayalaya
in Patahi could not have escaped the
common fate of illiterate child brides
battling domestic violence.
In Andhra, besides rallies and public
meetings, MV Foundation initiated
an unusual youth group in 2006. In
Rangareddy, Warangal, Kurnool and
Nalgonda districts, it has mobilised
the community with the help of
young boys chosen because they were
also potential grooms. “We were able
to convince these boys to support
us after child brides talked to them
about the impact of such marriages
on underage couples. Today, they go
into different villages and convince
panchayats to take action,” informs
Reddy.
Stopping underage marriages
is very much a work-in-progress.
But there is hope because girls are
increasingly seeking their own
version of ‘Happily Ever After…’
Sinha concludes, “Child marriage
has been stubborn to change. But
greater bounce in the society, in terms
of development, opportunities and
education, will help girls to exercise
agency and say, ‘No, I don't want
such a marriage’.” Ultimately, says
Sinha, every girl is capable of fighting
her own battle, provided she has a life
after it.

(Courtesy: Women's Feature Service)
5
J a n u a ry 15, 2014
Where tribal women demand
their reproductive rights
A three decade-old Madhya Pradesh Government order has several adivasi (tribal) families
in Chhattisgarh in a quandary. They struggle to provide for themselves but are turned away
by government officials if they try to restrict their family size. The original intent was to protect
primitive tribal groups from 'extinction' but the Chhattisgarh Government continues to enforce
the anachronistic order adding to the economic burden of these families. The tribal population
has increased but their access to health and nutrition has stayed as uncertain as ever
Photos: AY/WFS
ANUMEHA YADAV, Sarguja (Chhattigarh)
The bid to save tribal populations from 'extinction' by denying them
access to family planning methods has not only put women and
children at risk - maternal and infant mortality rates here are high but has also added to the economic burden of these poor families.
"I
do not want more children but
the mitanin (village health
worker) says she cannot take
me or anyone from my community
to the clinic for an operation," says
Phool Sundari Pahari Korva from
Jhamjhor Village, located in the
forests of Sarguja District in North
Chhattisgarh. She has five children
– her oldest is 18 and the youngest,
a daughter, is six months. All of
Sundari's four younger children have
frail limbs and bellies swollen by
malnutrition; the skin on her younger
son’s chest has peeled off due to an
infection.
The reason that Phool Sundari, a
Pahari Korva adivasi, was denied
sterlisation at a local government
clinic: a 1970s order of the Madhya
Pradesh Government that restricted
Pahari, or Hill, Korvas and four other
Primitive Tribal Groups (PTGs) living
in Chattisgrah from being targeted
during the sterilisation drives of the
time.
The original intent was to protect
the PTGs, a term recently amended
to Particularly Vulnerable Tribal
Groups, from 'extinction'. The PTGs
were adivasi groups dependent on
pre-agricultural technologies that had
stagnant or declining populations.
But 30 years on, the Chhattisgarh
Government has continued to enforce
the anachronistic order adding to the
economic burden of these families.
Sabutri Bai, Sundari's neighbour,
recounts that she got sterilisation done
after giving birth to her sixth child
three years ago but was surprised at
what followed. "When the staff at
the Lakhanpur clinic found out I am
a Pahari Korva, they were going to
dismiss the nurse who allowed me to
get operated," she says. "It makes no
sense. We have 1.5 acres land. How
do they expect us to provide for more
and more children?" asks her husband,
Phool Chand Ram, who used to work
under the rural employment guarantee
act, MNREGA, two years back but
gave it up when he got wages only a
year later. Their eight-member family
survives by selling firewood, earning
Rs 100 for every two-day trip they
make into the depleting forest.
Over 50 kilometres away, in the
villages of Batauli Block, the situation
is similar. Pahari Korvas struggle
to provide for their families and are
forced to lie about their identity to
overcome the sterilisation restriction.
"I stopped producing nursing milk
after I gave birth to my fourth child. I
could only give my babies rice-water.
When I wanted to get the operation
done, the malaria link worker (a
government health worker) said I
should give my caste as Majhwar or
else the Shantipada Hospital would
not do it," says Mangli Bai Korva of
Govindpur Village.
The original order, passed on
December 13, 1979, identifies PTGs,
including Pahari Korvas, Baigas,
Abujhmaria, Birhor and Kamar tribes,
in 26 blocks in MP to be excluded from
sterilisation but allows them access to
contraceptives. "You have been given
district-wise targets for sterilisation.
An exception should be made for
tribal communities whose population
is stagnant or decreasing... they should
have access to other contraceptives if
they require. ...Everyone except these
communities will be encouraged to
get sterilised…," reads the two-page
order.
Adivasi families in Sarguja,
however, say they have never
heard of temporary or permanent
contraceptive methods such as
birth control pills, condoms, or the
copper-T, an intrauterine device.
Further, while the order permits PTG
families to go in for sterilisations after
procuring a certificate from the block
development officer, neither health
workers nor tribal people are aware of
the provision and most have no direct
access to block officials.
A discussion among Pahari
Korvas in Batauli, on whether or
not the government should allow
the operation, generated diverse
reactions. While the youngsters burst
into giggles, Shri Ram Korva, who
has six children, wonders loudly
with faultless logic, "If the thought
is to preserve our population, then
that is good. But if we are forced to
say we are Majhwar or Oraon at the
clinic, won't we stop being Korvas
anyway?" Jhoolmati Korva, a village
elder, has the final word, "If the
couple wants it, they should be able
to get the operation even after giving
their correct name."
Sarguja has more than 4500 Pahari
Korva families. Since 1996, they have
been the focus of several development
schemes, which promote agriculture,
animal husbandry and horticulture,
executed through the Pahari Korva
Development Agency. But despite
good intentions and adequate resources
– last year, the agency had a budget of
Rs 3.72 crore – district officials admit
not much has changed. "Schemes
do not get implemented properly
because there is little coordination
among various departments. We are
now trying to involve the Pahari
Korva Mahapanchayat in planning
the use of funds," says R. Prasanna,
the district collector. "Maybe if the
Mahapanchayat made a collective
appeal, the government will reconsider
the sterilisation order," he adds.
In the three decades since the
order has been in force, the PTG
population has increased but their
access to health and nutrition has
stayed as uncertain as ever and it is
this fact that is central to the debate
over the restriction. National Family
Health Survey-3 data shows that
compared to the national average of
46 per cent of underweight children,
70 per cent children born in PTG
families are underweight. Malaria
and diarrhoea epidemics are frequent
every monsoon. In the instance of
Pahari Korvas, the Infant Mortality
Rate (IMR) is 166 deaths per 1000
live births, more than double the
national average, says a 2007 study
by researcher Sandeep Sharma. The
study also records the crude death
rate as well as birth rate among these
adivasis – more children are born, but
many more die.
So, is the government hiding
dismal malnutrition and high
mortality numbers with a sterilisation
ban? "Independent surveys show the
government undercounts the level of
malnutrition. For three years between
2007 and 2010 the state reported zero
deaths from malaria and diarrhoea to
the Central Ministry for Health and
Family Welfare," says Sulakshana
Nandi, a public health activist based
in Raipur. "Block and district clinics
in Raipur and Mahasamund were
out of stock of contraceptives when
we visited this January. PTGs are
in a bind because they neither get
adequate nutrition nor access to
contraceptives," she adds.
The ban has been a matter of
public debate in the state since
an investigation by journalists in
Kawardha District last year traced
how dalals (middlemen) from MP
were luring Baiga tribals across the
border for sterilisation for Rs 1000,
ironically as part of MP government's
continued sterilisation drives. Since
then PTG communities such as
Kamars in Gariaband District and the
Baigas in Kawardha have organised
public meetings demanding that the
government remove the ban and focus
instead on improving access to public
services. "Baigas want to restrict their
family size for their well-being, not
because of Rs 200-300 that we could
earn as incentive for sterilisation in
clinics in MP," asserted Bhaigla Singh
Baiga, a community leader while
addressing the Baiga Mahapanchayat
meeting in Taregaon in May 2012.
Government officials have taken
notice of these demands. "I agree that
the demographic situation has changed
and that informed choice should be
available to everyone. It is, however,
incorrect to blame high mortality
on the failure of state services;
anganwadis
(day-care
centres)
can provide only supplementary
nutrition, substantive nutrition has
to come from the household," says
Kamalpreet Singh Dhillon, director,
Health Services, in Raipur.
But nutritious food continues to be
elusive for the Pahari Korvas living
deep inside the Mainpat and Khirkhiri
hills. Today, they wait for both their
right to food and their freedom to
decide family size.

(Courtesy: Women's Feature Service)
Phool Sundari Korva who can’t get sterilisation done after having her
fifth child.
6
January 15, 2014
Women who made a difference: the
little known stars of 2013
Many women came into greater prominence in 2013, whether it was Angela Merkel of Germany or Sonia Gandhi and
Vasundhara Raje Scindia closer home. But forgotten in the rush of news coverage focused on established personalities
are significant, if little noticed, figures who have in their own distinctive ways made a difference to their communities or
audiences over the past 12 months. Here are the stories of six of them: a student footballer, a woman mukhiya (head)
of a village, a woman crematorium worker, a nutritional scientist, an IIT assistant professor who has made a full length
animated feature film, and a woman who has taken it upon herself to guard the forests. Let us celebrate each one of
them
Saurabhi Rabha would have been just another girl in a sleepy hamlet called Natun Batabari in Rani, some 35 kilometres
from Guwahati, Assam, if she had not started to play soccer two years ago. She and her friends have had to brave
numerous odds, including the stigma meted out by a patriarchal society as well as insults from the people of their own
village. But these energetic young women, most of whom are from poor families, stuck to their game and rebuffed the
derogatory comments that came their way to reach their goal, quite literally.
Saurabhi and her two younger sisters live with their mother, Santoshi Rabha, who looks after a stone quarry to earn a
livelihood, ever since their father passed away in 2011. “Being a girl, people used to ask why I go to play soccer instead
of helping my mother in domestic work. But my mother was supportive and she never stood against my wishes,” revealed
Saurabhi.
It all began when a group of 30-odd girls, studying at various local schools, had got together to play soccer on a sunny
afternoon in 2010. They approached Hem Das, a veteran Guwahati-based coach who had represented the state at various
national level tournaments in the 1970s and 1980s. Thanks to Das’s hard work as a coach, the daughter of a single mother
of limited means could get to represent her state at national level soccer tourneys in 2013.
Remarked an excited Saurabhi, as she got ready for another practice session at the Rani High School playground: “We
are extremely happy and thankful to our coach for making us believe in ourselves.”
- Text by Abdul Gani
Photo: AG/WFS
Bend it like Saurabhi
In the sleepy hamlet of Natun Batabari
in Rani, 35 km from Guwahati, young
girls, most of who are from poor families,
have braved numerous odds to represent
Assam at the national level junior soccer
tournament.
Despite a promising career in Law, Dorothiya Dayamani Ekka opted to work for the development of her village.
She had completed her bachelor’s degree in Law from Ranchi University, Jharkhand, and had been inducted into
the Ranchi Bar Association. She had even applied for a seat to pursue a master’s degree in Law when she decided
to give it all up and tread a different path. Having contested the panchayat elections from Ara Village in Namkum
Block of Ranchi District in 2011, Dorothiya is now the mukhiya (village head) of Ara and is focused on providing
sustainable employment for the women of the village.
“Women do not find jobs easily because men are still preferred when it comes to employment. But they have
tremendous potential, and if their natural skills are honed, they will excel in activities such as kitchen gardening,
poultry rearing and cattle breeding. We are working to develop small operational business models that will prove
profitable for this village,” she explains.
In 2011, Jharkhand had witnessed panchayat elections for the first time in three long decades. The Jharkhand
Panchayat Act, 2005 has a provision for 50 per cent women’s reservation. But history was created when women
contested and won in 56 per cent seats - the highest in the country. Dorothiya explains why panchayats need to
be more empowered, “Today, because panchayats do not have the authority to disburse funds or take decisions,
most of our schemes get stuck in bureaucratic hassles at the district level. We have to adjust to the policies of a
given government, which in most cases are very driven by politics.” This is what she and her colleagues hoped to
change by coming up with a charter of demands that would allow panchayats a more proactive and engendering
role.
- Text by Saadia Azim
Photo: SA/WFS
Dorothiya anchors grassroots woman power in Jharkhand
More than 31000 women panchayat
leaders in Jharkhand joined forces to
form a core committee to demand a
greater role in policy-making with an aim
to overcome the bureaucratic hurdles in
the implementation of developmental
schemes.
7
Ja n u a ry 15, 2014
Animation art animates
IIT professor Shilpa
In 2007, the district
administration of Baran in
south-eastern Rajasthan was
faced with a dilemma. With
local farmers on the verge of
giving up the cultivation of
amla, or Indian gooseberry,
they were at a complete
loss as to how to prevent
the trend. That’s when a
local food and nutrition
scientist came up with a
plan. She proposed that Thanks to the efforts of Sarla Lakhawat,
amla be distributed as who works at the Krishi Vigyan Kendra
part of the mid-day meal
in Anta in Baran District of Rajasthan,
for children in primary
schools. As gooseberry, a scores of women have been able to
sour fruit rich in Vitamin C, form self help groups – like this one –
couldn’t be consumed raw, to fight for their rights.
she recommended it be
processed as candy, murabba (compote) and laddus (Indian sweetmeat).
To deliver on the idea, she advocated the involvement of women self-help
groups (SHGs) for processing and distribution. Her idea ended up serving
multiple purposes – not only did it boost amla production; it ensured
critical nutrition for children and gave women a shot at self-reliance.
With such innovative thinking and a sound scientific approach, Sarla
Lakhawat, who works at the Krishi Vigyan Kendra (KVK) in Anta, a block
in Baran District, has managed to fight the region’s triple curse of acute
malnutrition among children, tough agricultural challenges and the poor
status of women. In the process, the scientist has given not just a new lease
of life to families that were earlier languishing in hopelessness, she has
also managed to motivate scores of women, particularly those from the
impoverished Sahariya Tribe, to fight for their rights by helping them form
a vast network of 350 SHGs.
The talented agri-scientist also has a yen for technology. She developed
a post-harvest unit to process garlic using solar energy. The technique has
enabled the garlic farmers of Anta to value-add their produce and connect
with the international market.
- Text by Rakesh Kumar
Sinapalli may be a small block in Nuapada District of Odisha, but
its thick forest cover attracts many a nature lover. Venture towards
the verdant wilderness and from among the trees could emerge
a fierce, middle-aged woman armed with an axe on her shoulder.
This is Hara Dei Majhi, 55, the protector of this dongar (hillock).The
illiterate tribal woman has been keeping a sharp vigil over the 11.25
acres of forest land for more than three decades now. After all, this,
according to her, is the “legacy of my late husband”. It was Majhi’s
husband, Anang, who had initiated the process of planting trees on
what was once a barren patch of land at the foothills of Kapsi Dongar.
A dedicated conservationist, he understood the vital role forests played
in maintaining a balance in the local eco-system.
Recalls Majhi, “In the beginning, I was not involved in his work.
As we were poor, we depended on minor forest produce and tendu
leaves to keep our home fires burning. However, due to gradual Hara Dei Majhi,
deforestation our livelihood was affected and we had to become daily 55, the protector
wage labourers to feed ourselves.”
of the lush Kapsi
When Anang spent passed away in 1995, Majhi took on her Dongar Forest in
husband’s unfinished business as a challenge. According to Majhi, Nuapada District
there are two major threats to the forests: forest fires and timber thieves of Odisha.
and, over the years, she has been able to counter them as far as is
humanly possible.
Sarat Chandra Panda, district forest officer, Khariar Forest Division, is all praise for her,
“I have seen many groups protecting the forest in Odisha during my career but Hara Dei is
unique. Her dedication and love for nature has inspired many villages in the region to form
van surakshya samitees (free protection committees) to save the forest. Even the incidence of
forest fires in our block has decreased by 50 per cent in the last five years.”
- Text by Sarada Lahangir
Photo: SL/WFS
Hara Dei’s forest vigil
Photo: WFS
After helming several short films,
assistant professor of design at Indian
Institute of Technology (IIT), Mumbai,
Shilpa Ranade presented a famous and
much-loved children’s story into a feature
length animation this year. Ranade’s
Goopi Gawaiiya Bagha Bajaiyya (The
World of Goopi and Bagha) premiered
at the Toronto International Film Festival
(TIFF) in 2013.
Penned by Upendrakishore Ray in
1915, the classic story was first brought
to the marquee by his illustrious grandson Animator-filmmaker
and India’s only Oscar winning director, Shilpa Ranade, who is
Satyajit Ray. Many versions have followed, assistant professor of
but Ranade’s is the first animation feature design at IIT, Mumbai,
albeit with some tweaks to the original has turned a muchnarrative.
loved children’s story
Ranade’s creative sojourn began as a into a feature-length
student of Applied Arts with specialisation animation.
in illustration/video and her interest in
animation helped combine her twin interest in cinema. After completing
her master’s from IIT Mumbai she headed to the Royal College of Art in
London where her M Phil thesis was on Indigenous Images and Narratives
for Socially Relevant Animation. She subsequently returned to her alma
mater where she set up the Industrial Design Centre.
Ranade’s academic career has always been complemented by film
assignments. Goopi... is her first feature length and the journey has been
a tough one. The film took almost two-and-a-half-years to complete and,
according to her, “it is challenging to make feature animation in India”.
Part of the reason for this is that animation in India has almost always
been associated with Disney cartoons and, by extension, with fun and
children. This, in turn, translates into stuff that is colourful and saccharine.
As Ranade points out, “to have things with shades and darkness, all that
is certainly difficult for our local viewers to digest.”
This is what Ranade hopes to change through her work, so that
animation emerges as an art form that is taken seriously in India.
- Text by V. Radhika
Photo: SL/WFS
There's nothing extraordinary about the
way she looks. Yet, Shanti Behera, 52, a
resident of Sambalpur, is unique. since the
past decade, she has been running the local
crematorium. According to traditional Hindu
customs, women are not even allowed to
go to a crematorium and participate in the
funeral rites. But compelled to provide two
square meals for her family after the demise
of her husband, Shanti willingly took on
the job of being the full-time keeper at the
Kamlibatar Rajghat crematorium.
Married at 15, she had just turned 40 when
she lost her husband to multiple illnesses. "I Over the past decade, Shanti Behera,
had no work and six children, including
52, a resident of Sambalpur in
four daughters, to support. My husband
was the caretaker of the Kamlibatar Rajghat Odisha, has been running the local
cremation ground. When he fell severely ill crematorium even though traditional
and was bedridden I had to take over his Hindu customs do not permit women
duties or we could not have fed ourselves," to go to a crematorium and participate
in the funeral rites.
Shanti recalls.
There were several personal as well as
social hurdles to cross. Initially, it was not easy for her to look at the dead bodies being
brought to the crematorium. She also faced opposition from her relatives for daring to go
against tradition. But Shanti grew stronger as time passed, "My husband was cremated at
the same ground where he used to work. I had to take over just after a few days after his
death. It was very painful for me but I went ahead.”
Behera's job is certainly not for the faint-hearted. Starting with arranging the wood for
the pyre, setting it alight, and ensuring that it burnt properly, she does it all. But she has
demonstrated that, given the right opportunity and support, a woman – although she may
be poor and barely literate – can do anything.
- Text by Sarada Lahangir
Photo: WFS
Scientist Sarla has a taste
for nutrition
Shanti, lighter of pyres

(Courtesy: Women's Feature Service)
8
January 15, 2014
Life in a metro: residents suffer as
civic amenities are lacking
Devarajeevanahalli or DJ Halli, a neglected sector in Bengaluru, is only in the news for the wrong reasons. Its
economically backward residents, with most families employed in the informal sector, struggle with little or no amenities.
Water supply, garbage clearance and road maintenance are irregular. Adults suffer from 'lifestyle diseases' such as
diabetes as they tend to follow unhealthy and irregular eating patterns. Now, JAA-K, a people’s health movement, is
making a concerted bid to set things right. While it is easy to believe the sincerity and commitment of the grassroots
social workers, the same cannot be said about the government and its representatives
Photos: PA
PUSHPA ACHANTA, Bengaluru
Khamar is a saleswoman
whose family is homeless.
K
hamar is a 34-year-old
saleswoman in a small
garment store in Nagawara in
northern Bangalore. She, her husband
Imran, and their four children were
literally pushed out to live on the
streets of Devarajeevanahalli, a part
of north-east Bangalore, in the winter
chill of December 2013, because they
did not have money to pay the rent for
the small house the family has been
living in.
Khamar is the only one who takes
home a steady income of around
Rs 3500 per month, as Imran has a
respiratory disease that restricts him
from performing his full-time job as a
street vendor. Khamar spends around
Rs 300 in travelling to her place of
work and has to slog for more than 10
hours a day through the year, except
on a few public holidays.
“I have completed my 10th standard
and was keen to study further. But my
parents got me married at the age of
15, after which life has not been easy.
Imran and I did not plan to have a
fourth child and I was not even aware
that I was pregnant until almost the
third month. The poor health of my
husband has had a drastic effect on
our meagre financial resources as we
are compelled to seek the services of
private physicians and clinics. This is
because doctors are not regular at the
government health centre in our area
and the large public hospitals in the
city are too far away from our house
– getting to them needs additional
money, time and energy. Further,
government institutions make us
pay for tests and treatment that are
supposed to be provided free of charge.
And though government pharmacies
are meant to give medicines at
subsidised rates, we are directed to
buy them at private pharmacies,”
says Khamar with a sad smile. She
was attending a public hearing on
the status of child and healthcare
amenities, public infrastructure and
social entitlements such as pensions
and ration cards, held in December in
Devarajeevanahalli, commonly called
DJ Halli.
This is an area that has many
economically backward residents and
families employed in the informal
sector, such as domestic work,
masonry and load-carrying coolies.
They speak a variety of languages
and practise different faiths. Actually,
the area consists of two wards under
the Bruhat Bengaluru Mahanagara
Palike (BBMP or Bangalore
Municipality),
namely,
Periyar
Nagar and Devarajeevanahalli, with
a population of around 30000 each.
Water supply, garbage clearance and
road maintenance are irregular and
public buses ply only along the nearby
Tannery Road, which is teeming with
street vendors and shops selling
Salma, 25, and Naseema, 45, and (right) Mohsina Banu. Despite
difficult pregnancies, they received no support from the DJ Halli
PHC. Their young, undernourished children get minimal government
assistance although they are very unhealthy since birth.
Bakshi, 70, has eight children. He
is a coolie and begs. He receives
no pension.
goods such as electrical hardware,
automobile spare parts, flowers, meat
and spices.
Despite being a source of affordable
essential services and goods for many
middle- and upper-middle income
households in the city, DJ Halli
figures in the news only when the
houses and lanes there are flooded
during the rainy season due to the
overflowing of storm water drains.
The situation is sometimes so bad
that it has caused fatal accidents. DJ
Halli has also sometimes made it to
the headlines in the local pages of
newspapers because of malnutrition
or prolonged illness claiming many
young lives.
Dr Sylvia Karpagam, a community
health physician with the Jana Arogya
Andolana, Karnataka or JAA-K
(the Karnataka State circle of the
People’s Health Movement, working
towards health rights, dignity and
well-being of all, particularly the
most disadvantaged and marginalized
communities), who has been reaching
out to the residents of DJ Halli, says
many of the young children there suffer
from severe and acute malnutrition
owing to the inability of their parents
to provide them wholesome meals.
Also, as the mothers have multiple
pregnancies at a very young age, they
are not fit enough to feed their children
completely. In addition, the number of
anganwadis (government-run childcare centres) there is insufficient in
proportion to the population, and
some children are inevitably left out.
Malnourished children under six
years of age are supposed to be enrolled
in the Nutritional Rehabilitation
Centre (NRC) programme launched
by the Government of India a few
years ago. Through this scheme,
which is a part of Integrated Child
Development
Services
Scheme
(ICDS), undernourished children are
provided nutritional supplements
and their overall health and vital
parameters such as height and body
weight are monitored at specific
government medical centres that
have been designated as NRCs.
Further, the programme mandates
that mothers who accompany the
child should be given a cash benefit
so that expenditure on transport or
probable loss in daily wages do not
act as deterrents to visiting the NRC.
Adults
suffer from 'lifestyle
diseases' such as diabetes as they tend
to follow unhealthy and irregular
eating patterns. But unlike the
financially stable survivors of diabetes,
people affected by the disease in
places like DJ Halli are barely aware
of its prevalence or adverse impact.
Even if they know, they cannot easily
afford to look for medical assistance
or adopt a regimen consisting of a
balanced diet and exercise. Yasmeen
Taj, a homemaker in DJ Halli, who
is around 38 years old, said, “When
a wound on my leg did not heal and
there was a swelling in my foot, I
was told they were complications of
diabetes. However, the medical centre
did not even give me first aid. Also, I
could not go there regularly as there
is no one at home to assist my 17year-old daughter who has survived
burns. She is entitled to a cash benefit
of around Rs 500 a month, meant for
Yasmeen Taj is a diabetic.
Samina, 17, is a burns survivor.
persons with disabilities, but she has
never received the amount although
we have completed the required
registration procedures for it some
time back”.
Akhila Wasan, a social scientist
and volunteer with JAA-K, said
many of the families do not possess
ration cards. This forces them to
procure food grains, oil, sugar and
other essential grocery items at
expensive retail rates. “It is sad but
not surprising that concerned BBMP
health officers and the local municipal
councillor offer excuses and
justifications for the absence, dearth
or poor quality of basic services,”
she said, adding, “that is why this
public hearing has been organised,
in the presence of social workers
and officers, including the Secretary
of the Minorities Commission,
executives from the state Women
and Child Development Department,
the Disabilities Commission and the
deputy tahsildar.”
“Our next task is to ensure that
the government officers fulfil
whatever they have promised, like
the appointment of a gynaecologist,
opening 40 anganwadis, setting
up grievance redress mechanisms,
distribution of free mobility aids for
people with disabilities and Pension
and Disability Adalats to clear
backlogs,” said Akhila. Dr Sylvia,
Akhila and other volunteers plan to
continue their local interventions. 
9
J a n u ary 15, 2014
Six women join to combat
drinking water problems
A suburb of Agra, Nehar ka Nagla, found itself without access to potable water. The solution
came from within the slum and it wasn't water tankers. Six women came up with the idea to
combat the drinking water problems faced by the people. They formed a self-help group called
Nai Asha Swaya Sahayata Samuha with the aim of providing clean drinking water to their
neighbourhood. And they call their water shudh jal
DEEPIKA, Agra
Women ready bottles for delivery .
H
urbanisation, the slum found itself at
the centre of everyday problems, and
water is its biggest woe.
In the absence of a municipal piped
water connection, the primary source
of drinking water in Wards 24 and
37 is the water supplied by private
tankers. People live with the constant
stress of awaiting the arrival of the
tankers, long queues and a monthly
expenditure of anywhere between
Rs 500 and Rs 1500 on water. Some
families spend almost 20 per cent
of their income on buying water
regularly for drinking and cooking
purposes.
Testing of ground water samples
in Ward 37 showed extremely high
levels of TDS (total dissolved solids)
– upward of 5000 particles per
million (ppm) in some samples, when
the Indian Government Regulations
Photo: CURE
istorically, Agra has had
decentralised water systems
that were derived from a
riverine core and supplemented by
numerous lakes, wells and baolis (step
wells). The system was a synthesis of
geography, excellent Mughal fluvial
engineering and an involved citizenry.
Unfortunately, much has been lost
over the years.
Agra is now the most populous and
fastest growing city of Uttar Pradesh.
It has a population of 1686976
(Census 2011) and more, of which
more than 50 per cent are estimated
to live in low-income settlements
where water is in short supply,
electricity is sporadic and livelihoods
are haphazard.
Nehar ka Nagla, one such settlement
in Ward 24, is a deemed an urban
slum. Caught in the rapid transition of
Slum dwellers get to taste the shudh jal.
prescribe that TDS in drinking water
should at all times be less than 500
ppm. Detailed tests found traces of
arsenic as well. Thus, the groundwater
cannot be used, even for washing
and bathing purposes. Most people
complained of arthritis, diarrhoea,
joint pains, bloated stomachs and so
on, and spent close to 15 per cent of
their income on medical bills.
Six women of Ward 37 came up
with an idea to combat the drinking
water problems faced by the people
of Nehar ka Nagla. They formed a
self-help group (SHG), called Nai
Asha Swaya Sahayata Samuha, with
the aim of providing clean drinking
water to their neighbourhood. They
call their water Shudh Jal. It is priced
at market rates and a regular market
distribution approach is used, but the
difference from the popular market
women stays at the plant from 7 am
when the first delivery is loaded into
the hired auto-rickshaw, until 6 pm
when the last lot is sent out. They
also spend time in “the field,” talking
to households and other stakeholders
on an on-going basis.
The plant has a capacity of 4000
litres a day and water is supplied
in 20 litre bottles priced at Rs 5 if
bought at source, and Rs 10 if home
delivered. Until May 2013, the SHG
had achieved 250 bottles per day.
When the SHG plant was started,
local competitors (there were and
continue to be a few) did cut prices.
But the households were happy to do
business with the SHG plant provided
they were assured of both convenience
(doorstep delivery) and quality.
Along with the benefit of pure
drinking water, the plant also
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Advertisement Tariff
Women interact with residents on a regular basis to ensure they remain
satisfied.
approaches being the management
and ownership of the plant.
Water is a commodity that
households can and will purchase,
but given the relationship of the
community with water, it is important
to not commercialise it. It cannot be
fully captured purely through marketbased economic linkages. Women
entrepreneurs are pretty unusual in
Ward 37. But the six women have
taken to business like fish to water.
They discuss marketing strategies and
operations with a finesse that would
astonish a B-School graduate
The group has its own little
organisational
structure
with
basic roles and responsibilities
laid out. They have developed an
understanding among themselves
and work with flexibility within the
framework. One or the other of the six
provides the women with jobs that
could eventually covert into a longterm secure source of work. More
importantly, being a manager and
co-owner of such an option goes way
beyond a simple livelihood.
For the six women, the plant is a
sense of identity and achievement,
one that they wish to preserve. For
them, Nai Asha is not simply a title
on a banner. It literally holds out
New Hope of making a new life for
themselves, and through them, to the
community in which they live.

(Courtesy: indiawaterportal.org. The
initiative is supported and mentored
by Centre for Urban and Regional
Excellence, an NGO working in Agra,
FEM Sustainable Social Solutions and
Eureka Forbes.)
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10
January 15, 2014
Sir, have you heard anything
about my daughter?
Birsi Munda, a tribal woman from Odisha’s western district of Sundergarh, has only one
question to ask every time she visits the local police station: “Sir, have you heard anything
about my daughter?” Five years ago her daughter, Sankarin, who was around 20 years of age,
left home saying that she was going to Delhi with a friend of a neighbour to work as a domestic
worker. Since then there has been no news from her. Initially, Birsi thought that her daughter
must be too busy with work to contact her, but after a year passed by without any information,
she lodged a complaint with the local police for the first time. Today, when she talks about her
daughter, her voice breaks
Photos: SL/WFS
SARADA LAHANGIR, Sundergarh
Over the past five years, several hundred tribal girls from Sundargarh District in western Odisha have
been traffiicked on the pretext of being given jobs in the cities such as Delhi.
W
hile Birsi Munda cannot
reconcile herself to her
loss, her situation is not
uncommon in the region – Odisha’s
western district of Sundergarh. Gargi
Oram, 40, is another mother whose
daughter, Sarita - then 15 - has been
missing for the last five years. Sarita,
too, had ventured to find work in
Delhi when her father, Charo Oram,
a daily wage labourer, returned home
one day without any money saying
he couldn’t find work. Recalls Gargi,
“Those were difficult days and Sarita
told us that she is going to a friend’s
house. When she did not return, we
grew anxious but a few days later we
received a call from her informing us
that she was in Delhi for employment
and will be sending money to us
regularly. For two months her money
orders of Rs 500 arrived, and then
there was silence.” At that point,
Gargi lodged a complaint with
the police and has ever since been
running from pillar to post in search
of her daughter.
These are difficult times and local
sources of livelihood prove elusive.
This makes potential employment
in the city very alluring. Parents too
are not averse to this, viewing it as
an opportunity for their children to
lead better lives than they do. What
is not generally understood, however,
is the dark reality that often lingers
behind that promise of employment.
Fourteen-year-old Marianna, who
was recently rescued from Delhi,
provided a vivid account of what
really happens to girls like her.
She, along with four or five other
girls, all of them from Bisra Village
in Sundergarh District, was taken to
Delhi by an agent who went by the
name of Sanjay. Marianna had met
Sanjay at a construction site, where
she used to go for work along with
her elder sister. Sanjay lured her to
come with him to Delhi, by assuring
her that he would provide her with a
good job and salary. For the first week
Marianna stayed at Sanjay’s Noida
office, after which she was employed
by a Punjabi family in a locality
known as Krishna Nagar. The family
of about nine members lived in a oneroom tenement and Marianna had to
clean utensils and wash clothes for a
remuneration of Rs 1400.
Marianne’s eyes brim over with
tears as she recalls those days,
“The lady of the house used to
regularly assault me physically
with broomsticks or sandals. She
threatened me saying that even if I
cried no one would come to my aid.
She claimed that the man who had
brought me to her place had actually
sold me off.” She had to work from
early in the morning to night, with
little food – mostly a few chapattis.
The food and Delhi’s extreme weather
soon took its toll on her health, and
she kept falling ill. But what was
worst of all was that she received
no money from her employers. They
claimed that the agent had come and
taken all the money due to her in
the form of an advance. Despite her
adversities, Marianne was one of the
more fortunate ones. She was at least
rescued finally.
According to a complaint lodged
from Rourkela by social activist
Ramesh Kumar Mandal with National
Human Right Commission (NHRC)
in May 2012, about 5000 tribal girls
have been reported missing from
Sundargarh District alone over the
past five years. In fact, a study on
trafficking in women in Sundergarh
conducted by Pragati, a local NGO,
which covered 263 villages in a total
of 71 gram panchayats in 11 blocks
in the district, estimated an even
larger figure. According to the study,
approximately 43707 girls and women
have been trafficked in one decade.
Of these, in 723 cases the trafficked
women have never returned home,
and in 345 cases there was evidence
of sexual and other abuse.
Some startling revelations have
also emerged after the recent
arrests of Dayamani Munda, 30,
of Khariabahal Village and one
Mohammed Salim alias Tapu of
Kuanrmunda Village – both of whom
were part of a trafficking network.
Many of the girls they said were sold
outright, sometimes for as little as Rs
2000, and nothing is known of their
subsequent fate. It was also revealed
that the first step the traffickers take is
to erase the real identity of the woman
in their clutches. She is given a fake
name so that she cannot be traced
back to her original home and family.
With every change of employer, the
name keeps getting altered. The other
insight was the relative sophistication
that marked the functioning of
trafficking networks. Each member in
it was recruited and trained to make
them adept in the modus operandi
of luring these women and covering
their tracks.
Observes Subhashree Ray, an
activist with Pragati, “While there
can be no denying that poverty and
unemployment are huge contributing
factors for such trafficking, what
is striking is the ineffectiveness of
anti-trafficking operations. There is
a patent lack of proper mechanisms
to check and monitor such illegal
movement of women, and that is
making a bad situation, worse.
According to our study only one
trafficker has been punished till date.
Moreover, the local police stations do
not lodge complaints and villagers
who lose their children have no way
of ensuring that proper follow up
action is taken on their complaints.”
Yeswant Jethwa, inspector general,
Western Range, Odisha, disagrees,
“The police have specifically geared
up its anti-human trafficking units and
we are trying to focus our preventive
and investigative efforts on the
problem. At the ground level we have
identified the vulnerable pockets
and are trying to make the local
population more aware of the crime
through panchayati raj Institutions.
Meanwhile, we are also targeting the
middle men involved in this racket.”
It is only because of the widespread
public outrage caused by the growing
presence of traffickers that the
authorities have been forced to take
some action. But clearly it is not
enough. Mothers like Gargi Oram
continue to wait indefinitely for the
return of their lost daughters. Says the
distraught mother, “Three girls from
our village have finally been rescued,
but my daughter is still missing.” 
(Courtesy: Women's Feature Service)
REACH Lilly MDR-TB Partnership Media Awards
for Excellence in Reporting on TB
REACH invites entries for the fifth edition of the REACH Lilly
MDR-TB Partnership Media Awards for Excellence in Reporting
on TB. These awards recognise the best reporting on tuberculosis
by Indian journalists, in English and all other languages. To be
eligible, stories should have been published between 1 February
2013 and 31 January 2014.
For more information, including a full list of rules and criteria,
please see http://www.media4tb.org/media-awards/ or call
9791017202.
The last date for submitting entries is 2nd February 2014.
Wishing Readers A Very
Happy New Year