Sunday, February 21, 2010
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Party games
By YOGENDRA YADAV
Between Nandigram and a party that swears by human rights and lofty democratic ideals lies vast hypocrisy
Nandigram did not surprise me.
I was anguished and angry but not surprised. I had heard the story of Alipurduar from Jugal Kishore Raybir.
This dalit activist, a believer in Gandhian non-violence, was the founder of UTJAS, (Uttar Bango Tapsili Jati O Adibasi Sangathan) an organisation of dalits and adivasis of north Bengal. Through the 1980s it demanded greater regional autonomy and justice for sons of the soil. Not only did the government turn a deaf ear, the ruling party launched an offensive against them, branding them ‘separatist’ or ‘bichhinatabadi’.
The story of Alipurduar goes back to January 10 1987, twenty years before Nandigram. On that day, UTJAS had organised a rally of what they estimated to be about 50,000 people in Alipurduar, the headquarters of Cooch Behar district. As the rally started, they noticed something unusual: The police was nowhere in sight. Soon the rallyists found themselves surrounded by and under attack from the armed cadre of the CPM. The rally was dispersed as unarmed protesters were beaten and chased. The police surfaced, only to arrest the victims, once the party cadre had finished their job.
They say Jugal Raybir’s commitment to non-violence prevented a blood bath that day. But that day also marked the end of the rise of UTJAS as a political challenge to the Party. For the next few months, the UTJAS cadre was hounded by the police, attacked by the CPM and not allowed to hold even indoor meetings. This dalit movement wilted under the onslaught of the state, police and Party. That prepared the ground for the rise of militant outfits like the Kamtapur Liberation Organisation. But that is a different story.
Note the parallels between Nandigram and Alipurduar: The Party faces a political challenge, decides to nip it in the bud and executes an onslaught in sync with the police and administration. The only difference this time was that there was unexpected resistance. And that an anti-SEZ movement makes more news today than a dalit movement did twenty years ago. There were no Gopal Gandhi or Tanika and Sumit Sarkar then to point out that the emperor had no clothes.
Nandigram may not have been the worst case of police firing. We have seen similar incidents in Orissa, Rajasthan and UP in recent times. West Bengal is certainly not the only state where the ruling party uses the state machinery to crush its political rivals. Om Prakash Chautala could still teach the CPM a lesson or two in this game. But there is one thing Chautala never did. He never talked of human rights and lofty democratic ideals. A Chautala could not have issued the injured yet clinical statement that the CPM’s Politburo did after the Nandigram killings. The cold-bloodedness of the statement reminds you of the BJP top brass’s reaction after Gujarat.
This gap between the CPM’s preaching and practice did not surprise me. I have been looking at Christophe Jaffrelot’s research on the social profile of MLAs in India. His analysis shows that the proportion of upper caste MLAs is on the decline all over the country since the 1960s. There is only one exception: In West Bengal the proportion of upper castes has increased in the state assembly after 1977, after the Left Front came to power. A coincidence? Not if you calculate the caste composition of successive Left Front ministries: About two thirds of the ministers come from the top three jatis (Brahman, Boddis, Kayasthas). Perhaps you did not notice that West Bengal was the last major state to come out with an OBC list to implement Mandal. You might say, the CPM believes in class, not caste. Fair enough, but then why is the CPM in Delhi so aggressive about championing Mandal? Why does it present itself as more Mandalite than thou?
Or read the data supplied by the West Bengal government to the Sachar Committee. With 25.2 per cent of Muslim population, the state government has provided just 2.1 per cent of the government jobs to Muslims. West Bengal has the worst record of all Indian states in this respect. Gujarat has just 9.1 per cent Muslims and has 5.4 per cent Muslims among government employees. The irony, of course, is that the CPM was the first party to come out with a statement demanding implementation of the Sachar Report!
Will the CPM stop playing games? A few months ago the Party held an unprecedented State Secretariat meeting to discuss the Cricket Association of Bengal elections. The CM was openly backing Kolkata’s police chief only to be opposed by his own sports minister and Jyoti Basu. The Party finally declared that the CPM will not play politics with games, at least not with cricket. But what about playing games with politics? Will the CPM stop that as well?
Perhaps we should ask: Can the CPM stop playing games? Or are these games essential for survival for a party that has lost touch with the times, has lost faith in its own ideology and has come to fear its own cadre and election machine. Satyajit Ray’s Shatranj ke Khiladi was a brilliant depiction of the games nobility played at the time of its historic decline. Alimuddin Street may not have time for such bourgeois indulgence, but the point of this film would not be lost on an avid cinema buff like Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee. Sometimes it is not the player who plays the game; it is the game that consumes the player.
The writer is a political scientist at the CSDS, New Delhi
Thursday, March 29, 2007
After Nandigram’s Black Wednesday
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By Praful Bidwai
West Bengal’s Left Front government has barely pulled back from a potentially self-destructive disaster following the Nandigram carnage by adopting an 8-point agreement between all its partners, led by the Communist Party of India-Marxist (CPM). The agreement acknowledges that the Nandigram incident of Wednesday, March 14, in which 14 people were gunned down, “was tragic and the government will be careful to ensure that such an incident is not repeated.” It says the government won’t “acquire any land in Nandigram for any industry” and that the police “will be withdrawn from Nandigram in phases”.
The agreement commits the government to “act in accordance with the policies of the Left Front”, and says “the core committee of the Cabinet” will “meet more frequently” to take “all important political decisions… after discussion”. Although the Front fell short of condemning the Nandigram incident, it explicitly “regretted” it. Chief Minister Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee accepted “moral responsibility” for it.
The 8-point agreement became possible primarily because of the public outrage the incident caused and the tough stand taken by the CPM’s main partners—the Communist Party of India, the Forward Bloc, and the Revolutionary Socialist Party—who had been kept in the dark about the planned police action. They unequivocally condemned the police firing as profoundly undemocratic and "brutal and barbaric", and threatened to withdraw from the government.
Critical here too was the role played by the Grand Old Man of West Bengal politics, CPM politburo member and former Chief Minister Jyoti Basu. He told Front chairman Biman Bose that the CPM is running “one-party rule in this state. It doesn't look like a coalition government at all…” He publicly reprimanded Mr Bhattacharjee, and also told the Front’s non-CPM leaders to stick to their threat to quit the government if the CPM doesn’t change course.
The agreement represents a victory not just for the CPI, RSP and Forward Bloc, but for the people of West Bengal—and for the forces of sanity and a progressive consensus on economic policy. The victory was costly and bloody. And yet, it doesn’t settle all issues: Will the Left Front completely abandon its controversial Special Economic Zones (SEZs) policy? Will it refuse to have any truck with Indonesia’s Salim group—a front for the super-corrupt Suharto family—for whose SEZ 10,000 acres was to be acquired in Nandigram?
Will the Front revise Mr Bhattacharjee’s “industrialisation-at-any-cost” orientation, with total disregard for its social and environmental consequences, exemplified, among other things, by the plan to build a giant nuclear power station in a cyclone-prone area, at Haripur, in Nandigram’s neighbourhood? And not least, will the CPM conduct itself democratically within the Front, by consulting its allies on key policy issues and obtaining their advance consent, rather than throw the weight of its 176 seats in the 294-member Assembly, against the bigger partners’ 51 seats, not to speak of the smaller constituents like the Socialist Party (4 seats)?
Before dealing with these questions, it’s necessary to situate Nandigram in context. The immediate cause of the state violence there was not land acquisition, which had been put on hold after fierce popular protests in January. Rather, it was the CPM’s vengeful attempt to regain control of the area for its “cadres”—led by local MP and Haldia Development Authority chairman Laxman Seth, who has a stake in all major economic transactions. The “cadres” brook no challenge to their monopoly of power. But on January 7, they faced the people’s anger. Many were driven out. The were itching to re-establish their hold.
It’s wrong to present Nandigram mainly as an inter-party fight between the CPM and assorted Opposition groups, including the Right-wing and thuggish Trinamool Congress (TMC), backed by the Jamiat-Ulema-e-Hind and some Naxal factions, gathered under the umbrella of the Bhumi Ucchhed Pratirodh Committee, which had collected arms and blockaded entry into the area.
The TMC, deplorably, used violent tactics. But the CPM too resorted to strong-arm methods, revealed by the recent arrest of 10 of its “cadres”. The blockade started as a spontaneous people’s initiative. As CPM general secretary Prakash Karat admitted (March 19), the local “people turned against us” because of the land acquisition move.
It bears recalling that Nandigram isn’t an exclusive CPM stronghold; the CPI too has an MP (Prabodh Panda) from there. The Jamiat was long a staunch Left Front supporter—until a misconceived preliminary land acquisition notice was issued by HDA in early January, which was promptly disowned as “improper” by Mr Bhattacharjee.
The plain truth is, CPM apparatchiks instigated Black Wednesday’s police operation to settle scores in the “cadres’” favour by using the state’s armed might. They imposed collective punishment, an obnoxious method, on the area’s residents, assuming they were complicit with the Opposition. This was itself indefensible. Even worse, the 4,000-strong police force acted brutally. It didn’t use non-lethal anti-riot gear like water cannons, rubber bullets and smoke grenades until their utility was exhausted—as mandated by police manuals.
The police didn’t fire in self-defence. Instead, it shot to kill. Most of the bullet injuries were above the waist level. Many people were shot in the back as they were running away. At Bhangabera Bridge, the police pumped 500 bullets into an assembly of 2,000.
The Central Bureau of Investigation has gathered evidence that “outsiders” (CPM “cadres”) also fired into the crowd, many disguised in police uniform. The CBI recovered 500 bullets and 20 firearms from them. It also found a 657 metre-long “blood trail” at Adhikaripara leading to a brick kiln, whose shape suggests that “ a gunny-bag holding a body was being dragged”. This and other evidence should hopefully provide clues to the scores of allegedly missing persons.
It will take a long time to heal the deep wounds the Nandigram carnage has caused. Even Mr Karat concedes that the firing was “disapproved by the people of West Bengal… [who] have a high democratic consciousness.” The pivotal question is whether the CPM will learn the right lessons form the episode, which is the worst outrage to have occurred under Left Front rule in West Bengal. Unless it does so, it stands to forfeit some of its greatest gains, which have ensured its victory in election after election for three decades—a record unmatched in any democracy.
Sadly, there aren’t many signs that the West Bengal CPM leadership, in particular Mr Bhattacharjee, has lost any of its zeal for “industrialisation-at-any-cost
Neoliberal industrialisation involves capital accumulation through expropriation and destruction of livelihoods. A progressive state must not promote, even condone it; rather, it should discipline and regulate capitalism in the interests of society, especially its underprivileged layers.
However, for Mr Bhattacharjee, the Tata car plant at Singur is the model—although it is a stark case of “crony capitalism”, with unconscionable subsidies in soft loans and land grants equalling a fourth of its capital costs! It’s also an instance of socially inappropriate, elitist industrialisation, which will aggravate pollution nationwide.
Mr Bhattacharjee is also an unreconstructed believer in “stages” of historical development. For him, “semi-feudal” India must first achieve capitalism and only then attempt socialist reform. That’s why he keeps saying that he’s working strictly within “a capitalist policy framework”. His view severely underestimates the possibilities for social transformation available within India’s backward capitalism and for progress towards a more equitable, just society free of social bondage and economic serfdom.
For Mr Bhattacharjee, the ideal model to follow seems to be China, with its giant SEZs like Shenzen, unfettered freedom for multinational capital, and its latest legalisation of private property, now placed on a par with state and cooperative property. He should know better. Shenzen has turned out a workers’ nightmare, where no labour rights exist. The mere loss of an identity card can reduce workers to destitution and even prostitution. Chinese vice-minister for land and resources Chen Changzhi has just revealed that 80 percent of the 1.84 million hectares of farmland earmarked for industry was illegally acquired. Can this be a model for India?
The Left, especially the CPM, must decide whether it should fight for radical change and for socialism, or merely manage capitalism Chinese-style, however honestly. If it chooses the second option, it will get marginalised and go into historic decline. It must also make a decisive break with the undemocratic organisational culture it has inherited, which punishes dissidence and encourages a “my-party-right-or-wrong” attitude. Unless the Left undertakes ruthless self-criticism, it can’t effect overdue course correction.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Midnight’s Children
By Amit Sen Gupta
Chino Arab Hamara, Hindostan Hamara…
Rehne Ko Ghar Nahin Hain, Saara Jahan Hamara…
Chino Arab Hamara, Hindostan Hamara…
Rehne Ko Ghar Nahin Hain, Saara Jahan Hamara…
Sahir’s immortal dark irony, in Bombay’s Gateway of India, has arrived once again. The nip in the air, too, has arrived and the chill is just about moving inside the bones, like a familiar memory. It’s like reopening an old Edgar Allen Poe book, watching an old Alfred Hitchcock film, reading an old Munshi Premchand short story, as relevant now as ever. It’s like looking through the layers of an old trunk and finding a naphthalene ball inside an ancient jacket with a letter to an unknown lover.
Winter opens up new wounds, subterranean streams of desire, unopened letters, smells and skin which hang in the stillness of the frozen air, unrequited love in the time of viral infections. The memories of mother in a small kitchen with firewood and cow dung cakes.
Don’t worry, the meteorologist will tell you. Don’t worry too much about the fog or the smog in the metros, this is as deceptive and lovely as the night, winter has still not arrived because the western disturbances are far away. Perhaps around Christmas night, when the midnight worshippers trek back home, the first wave of freezing cold will arrive. Like a full moon tide.
As young reporters we always knew that this means a story, the cold wave story. That was in the early 1980s. Now, as senior pros, we know: no paper wants this story. The cold wave story.
It’s not the story of the death wish. It’s the story of the death count. Of dying slowly inside your skin and eyes. Those who die on the streets, especially in the metro’s suburbs, the walled city of old Delhi, between exile and kingdom, as the frozen narrative enters the lungs and the intestines, as they remove the posters from the walls near Jama Masjid and the Old Delhi Railway Station, Congress and BJP posters, and meticulously wrap them on their hands, legs, heads, with the last puff of the bidi, its dying fire a dying solace.
You zigzag through their bodies in this open-to-sky courtyard, little children, huddled together outside near the Nizamuddin dargah, a mother and her daughter clutching each other under a plastic sheet, a rickshawpuller on his rickshaw, his horizontal body hanging in time and space, a cap on his head, his hands like that of a forgotten musician.
The chill comes like an angel of death. It floats on a frozen liquid of icy winds. It enters the nooks and crevices of the exiled human body. It breaks resistance, the resistance of the weak, the hardworking homeless. We are so eternally fragile. The body is so ephemeral. And the weapons of the weak have all rusted with the brutality of the times.
At the Daryaganj police station near Golcha cinema, you can check the death count next morning. Unknown bodies found on the streets. No friends or relatives or lovers. Citizens of nowhere land. Midnight’s children of the largest democracy.
Chino Arab Hamara, Hindostan Hamara…
Rehne Ko Ghar Nahin Hain, Saara Jahan Hamara…
Winter opens up new wounds, subterranean streams of desire, unopened letters, smells and skin which hang in the stillness of the frozen air, unrequited love in the time of viral infections. The memories of mother in a small kitchen with firewood and cow dung cakes.
Don’t worry, the meteorologist will tell you. Don’t worry too much about the fog or the smog in the metros, this is as deceptive and lovely as the night, winter has still not arrived because the western disturbances are far away. Perhaps around Christmas night, when the midnight worshippers trek back home, the first wave of freezing cold will arrive. Like a full moon tide.
As young reporters we always knew that this means a story, the cold wave story. That was in the early 1980s. Now, as senior pros, we know: no paper wants this story. The cold wave story.
It’s not the story of the death wish. It’s the story of the death count. Of dying slowly inside your skin and eyes. Those who die on the streets, especially in the metro’s suburbs, the walled city of old Delhi, between exile and kingdom, as the frozen narrative enters the lungs and the intestines, as they remove the posters from the walls near Jama Masjid and the Old Delhi Railway Station, Congress and BJP posters, and meticulously wrap them on their hands, legs, heads, with the last puff of the bidi, its dying fire a dying solace.
You zigzag through their bodies in this open-to-sky courtyard, little children, huddled together outside near the Nizamuddin dargah, a mother and her daughter clutching each other under a plastic sheet, a rickshawpuller on his rickshaw, his horizontal body hanging in time and space, a cap on his head, his hands like that of a forgotten musician.
The chill comes like an angel of death. It floats on a frozen liquid of icy winds. It enters the nooks and crevices of the exiled human body. It breaks resistance, the resistance of the weak, the hardworking homeless. We are so eternally fragile. The body is so ephemeral. And the weapons of the weak have all rusted with the brutality of the times.
At the Daryaganj police station near Golcha cinema, you can check the death count next morning. Unknown bodies found on the streets. No friends or relatives or lovers. Citizens of nowhere land. Midnight’s children of the largest democracy.
Chino Arab Hamara, Hindostan Hamara…
Rehne Ko Ghar Nahin Hain, Saara Jahan Hamara…
Thursday, March 15, 2007
ABANDONED WIVES
Marriage Mirage in Kerala
Married and cast away shortly after honeymoon by their Arab husbands, hundreds of poor Muslim women in the state’s northern coastal districts are cursing their fate
| KA Shaji Kozhikode/Malappuram |
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Deceived: Kunhamina wants her stateless children to get Indian citizenship |
From Malappuram to Kasargod along the Malabar coast, poor girls are married to Arabs for a paltry sum as meher |
In Kuttikattoor, about 20 km from Kozhikode city, Faizal Abdulla Quid Ahmed and Ahmed Abdulla Quid Ahmed refuse to be photographed. “Policemen regularly come knocking on our door, threatening us with deportation. My mother has been running from pillar to post for the last 14 years, trying to get citizenship for my younger brother and me. No photographs please as they mean nothing but further humiliation,” says 21-year-old Faizal, an engineering graduate.
Kunhamina holds a slightly different view. “I will continue to strive for Indian citizenship for both of my children. They have no place to dwell other than India. You take any number of my photographs if they can ensure citizenship for my children,” she says.
Kunhamina’s husband Abdulla Quid Ahmed, a Yemeni national, is an exception among the hundreds of aged Arab men who come to Kerala every year and marry poor Muslim women of the region. He spends about six months each year in Kuttikattoor with his Indian wife and children, and supports them financially. Kunhamina is very worried that her two teenaged sons are neither citizens of India nor Yemen.
The problem began when Ahmed, who was 60 when he married for the third time, took his 16-year-old Indian bride to Sharajah where he worked in a private firm. Kunhamina returned to India with her children years later. Now, however, the three feel extremely insecure as they have no ration card, no passport and no official permission to undertake any job. They have to renew their temporary permission to stay here annually for a fee of Rs 1,400.
Two of Subaida’s three daughters face the same problem. Subaida, who lives in Vattakundu near Pallikandy, however has no husband to turn to for moral and monetary support. In 1987, when she was twenty-four, she was married off to Haji Farooqui, a 60-year-old Iranian and went to live with him in Dubai. Subaida returned to India with her three children nine years ago. There has been no word from her husband for the last five years, and she is not waiting anymore.
Her children Fathima and Azna, who do not have Indian citizenship, are facing deportation. After many years of representation to various governmental agencies, she has lost all hope. “As a last resort, I met Chief Minister VS Achuthanandan last week and pleaded for his intervention. He promised maximum efforts on the part of state government to persuade an otherwise unwilling Union Government,” she said. “Since a large number of children of Arab marriages were born in Middle East and came here with their Indian mothers, they do not have the citizenship in either country and face deportation, when they become adults,” points out VP Suhra, president of nisa, a voluntary agency that works with Muslim women in Kozhikode.
In fact, the issue of citizenship is just the tip of the iceberg. Married and cast away shortly after honeymoon by their Arab husbands, hundreds of poor Muslim women in the northern coastal districts of Kerala are cursing their fate. “Arab marriages are taking place clandestinely in north Kerala even now, though there is widespread propaganda that they are not taking place in this literate and progressive state. Barely an year ago the Kozhikode police arrested two Arabs on charges of marrying teenage girls and sexually abusing them,” says a top police official who wishes to remain anonymous.
From Kasargod to Ponnani in Malappuram district, poor girls along the coast have always been married to Arabs in return of meher worth a few hundred rupees. Such marriages are rampant in Kozhikode, especially in Kuttichira, Mughadar, Pallikandi, Kampuram and Kappakkal — places where slums dot beaches, the men-folk are usually fishermen or timber workers, and women work as housemaids in city homes.
K. Shuhaib, a social activist in Kuttichira, introduces us to Ayesha, who at 34 has already been married four times. None but one lasted beyond 60 days. She fails to recollect her second husband’s name. She has two children, fathered by two of her former husbands.
Fathima alias Arakkal Pathu of Chappayil has a similar tale of woe. Forty-five-year-old Mohammed from Qatar married her when she was only 12, and abandoned her and their son three years later. She married a Saudi Arabian national later and he too left her without even waiting for the birth of her second son.
“I have never seen my father. I have no clue about his whereabouts. Even the name and address he gave to my mother’s family were fake,” says Pathus’s second son Abubacker, a headload worker. Pathu is fortunate in that she has only two children to take care of. Other women in a similar situation often have to raise many children fathered by different men. As per rough estimates, there are more than 900 such forgotten children whose fathers came from across the sea, in Kuttichira alone.
Sixty-seven-year-old TT Bhathimayyi of Thangal’s Road recalls that her father got Rs 200 as meher when she was married off to the Bahraini national Badre Mohammed Ahmed Rasheed 52 years ago. No communication was possible, as her husband only knew Arabic and she Malayalam. They lived as man and wife for three months. Her son Mohammed Mustafa now works in Bahrain after he obtained his citizenship there with the help of his step-brothers.
About 15 years ago, Subaida of Mughadar came to know of the death of her Iranian husband Hussain Mohammed in a shipwreck near the African coast. She was six months pregnant when Hussain had abandoned her. Now, she lives with her two daughters and a son. “Now, I am struggling hard to forget the bitter experiences of the past,” she says.
“My father, Yusuf Mubaraq, has done nothing for us. But his three sons in Oman helped us a lot financially after his death. However the extreme humiliation and neglect by the society had already crippled my ambition to excel in life,” says Ramla, daughter of Amina of Kozhikode South Beach. A school dropout, Ramla is now working as a housemaid to look after her 13-year-old daughter. Like her overseas father, Ramla’s Indian husband divorced her without any reason some years ago.
There are scores and scores of such ‘Arabian brides’ in the densely populated, poverty ridden coastal area; the story of Aminas, Suharas, Subaidas and Bhathimayis is repeated over and over again.
Now things are done secretly. The secrecy is the result of a number of arrests since 1985. The people living in the coastal belt know marriages take place, but will not tell you where, when, how or who is getting married. The logic is simple: “It is poverty that makes these girls get into such marriages. Sometimes a kindly Arab might look after the girl for a lifetime. Why prevent that?”
The social reason behind these ‘sales’ is directly linked to the dowry system. The girl’s family has to shell out a huge dowry in cash and gold in Muslim marriages. Girls who get married to aged Arabs come from poor families. And the meher Arabs give, which could be as little as Rs 3,000, is a boon to the family. The sanction by the clergy is another cause why the practice continues. The male-dominated clergy is least bothered about the poor women and their unfortunate children. All this, coupled with general lack of education and awareness, has made intervention by social organisations difficult. “If anything worthwhile is to be done, poverty should be wiped out. There can be no cosmetic changes,” says Suhra.
Fearing the clergy’s wrath, no political party in Kerala is taking up the issue. When the National Women’s Commission organised separate sittings on Arab marriages in Kozhikode and Malappuram last year, the State Women’s Commission — comprising nominees of the previous Oommen Chandy government — decided not to cooperate with it. The body has come under sharp criticism by women’s groups. Suhra is demanding a multi-pronged approach by the government and the civil society to address the problem.
Writer’s e-mail: shaji@tehelka.com
Saturday, March 10, 2007
HARDBOILED AND HARDCORE
Colas, Windows, Techno Parks, what’s next in his line of fire? Wait and watch. Kerala Chief Minister VS Achuthanandan believes it’s this fiery Marxism that endears him to the people, writes KA Shaji
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A hardliner in personal life too, VS begins his day with 20 minutes of pre-dawn yoga followed by three idlis. Lunch is rice and vegetables; dinner is three rotis and a banana |
The CPM veteran’s decision to enforce a blanket ban on the production and retailing of Coca Cola and Pepsi in the state may have been quashed by the Kerala High Court, and his attempts to go on appeal before the Supreme Court may also not succeed. But, as a doughty fighter, he has succeeded in winning Kerala’s public consciousness in favour of his decision to ban the colas, whose manufacturers’ exploitation of the Palakkad groundwater has forced the residents of the district to walk miles to collect potable water. As a recent opinion poll conducted by a television news channel found, Achuthanandan’s decision to ban colas has only increased his popularity. He is yet to take to task the party’s youth activists for attacking cola godowns in the state saying they would not allow the mncs to re-enter the Kerala market.
Apart from being the first chief minister to impose a ban on Pepsi and Coke, Achuthanandan, affectionately called VS by his comrades, is also making headlines by logging the mighty Microsoft out of Kerala schools and saying a firm ‘no’ to investors with shadowy backgrounds. That the Achuthanandan effect is hitting where it hurts most was evident recently when US Undersecretary of International Trade Franklin Lavin wrote to the Union commerce secretary warning the Centre of a possible fall in US investment if US companies’ interests were not protected.
Following Achuthanandan’s decision to promote free gnu/Linux software, nearly 1.5 million students in the state’s 2,650 government and government-aided high schools will no longer use the Windows platform for computer education. About 56,000 high school teachers are now acquainting themselves with the Linux platform as a result. “There is no ban on any it company in Kerala. However, we wish to make Kerala the foss (Free and Open Source Software) destination of India,” said Achuthanandan, in response to criticism. In 2000, as Leader of the Opposition in the state Assembly, he was the first Indian leader to have discussions with free software guru Richard Stallman. Stallman is now one of Kerala’s it advisors, much to the embarrassment of Achuthanandan’s party rivals led by state secretary Pinarayi Vijayan. Vijayan’s group had favoured introducing Microsoft software in schools during the AK Antony regime. However, Achuthanandan stuck to Linux and warned Antony against Microsoft.
His decision to re-examine the Internet City proposal with Dubai’s Tecom Group to set up a smart city and an exclusive global it park in Kochi over a 100-acre area at an investment of $ 300 million also evoked widespread criticism. Achuthanandan detractors accused him of taking Kerala back to the Stone Age. But, to the utter shock of his adversaries, the promoters agreed to strike off clauses in the agreement they signed with the previous government that were found objectionable by the new chief minister.
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Achuthanandan’s copybook Communism has been the reason why his rivals can’t stand him. But the same quality had them begging him to start their poll campaign |
His opposition to the Internet City clauses has now drawn supporters from unexpected quarters. This week, the Union commerce ministry has its guns on the abuse of Special Economic Zone (SEZ) incentives. Predictably, some of his other decisions have led to Achuthanandan being labelled an anti-development CM. Like when he directed the state labour department to ensure that all companies in the state should shut shop on August 15. Objections raised by bpos located in Technopark in Thiruvananthapuram and at Info Park in Kochi had no effect. He still opposes the Rs 7,000-crore express highway project and another multi-crore venture for mineral sand mining along the Alappuzha coast. Both projects have severe environmental consequences and his opposition to them has earned him encomiums for being a ‘green chief minister’. The lobbies, which influenced the previous udf governments to sanction the two controversial projects, are now active, and as a result some of his Cabinet colleagues have started diluting their opposition to these projects. But Achuthanandan is not ready to relent.
Born on October 20, 1923 to Sankaran and Accamma in Alappuzha, Achuthanandan faced poverty from a very young age. Orphaned early, circumstances forced him to discontinue his studies in Class vii and join his elder brother working at his tailoring shop. Later he earned his living meshing coir at a local rope factory. “I may have been able to continue even without buying books but I didn’t have the strength to starve in school everyday,’’ he has said. However, he has remained an ardent reader. He began his political career as a trade union activist and joined the Congress in 1938. Like most Congress leaders of that time, he was attracted by Communist ideology. He joined the Communist Party of India in 1940 and soon became the Alappuzha district secretary. As a freedom fighter, he was imprisoned for over five years and spent a further four-and-a-half years underground. He found a position for himself in the history of the Communist movement in Kerala by actively participating in the Punnapra-Vayalar uprising where a police bayonet was driven through his leg. And now he is one of the three surviving leaders of the undivided cpi, who walked out of the national council in 1964 to float the CPM.
The CPM veteran is also a hardliner in his personal life. Known for his strict sense of discipline, his day begins with 20 minutes of pre-dawn yoga followed by a breakfast of three idlis. Lunch is a handful of rice and vegetables; dinner (always before 6pm) is three rotis and a banana. He sleeps for exactly five hours a day. “My strict diet helps me walk kilometres and climb hills even at this age,’’ he said once. He is not a fan of either music or films. Recently induced to watch a Malayalam movie with a heavily political theme, he later revealed that he was watching a film for the first time in 30 years. His wife Vasumathi worked as a nurse; she retired about 15 years ago. Son Arun, an mca holder, is deputy director of a government firm in Thiruvananthapuram. Achuthanandan’s daughter Asha holds a PhD in pharmacology and works at the Rajiv Gandhi Institute of Biotechnology.
The main reason for Achuthanandan’s popularity is his simplicity and straightforwardness. Also, it is said that he has never been known to hesitate to raise his voice whenever he discovers irregularities. And if later proven wrong, he has always been quick to publicly acknowledge it. Whether it is the drinking water scarcity in Plachimada or the multi-million dollar mnc software war, Achuthanandan is heard with rapt attention because the Kerala voter is confident of him. He has relentlessly pursued corruption cases and harassed mafia that deal in ganja, sandalwood and land. The sand mafia and the sandalwood mafia, the plantation companies encroaching on public land, the tourist resort operators who ravaged God’s Own Country to fill their coffers, the sex lords who exploited women and minor girls, the private hospital owners who built a business of trading in human organs — all have met their match in this diminutive man. Political leaders, who compromised with these elements for their personal safety and growth, cynically describe Achuthanandan as a fool who rushes in where angels feared to tread. “I have gone after several of them... like the owners of the steel smelting factories... the cola factories, looting groundwater when people did not have water to drink. So, these forces opposed to me have sent agents here to ensure that my votes could be bought over. But the people’s political reasoning cannot be bought like that,” he told this correspondent during the last Assembly election when asked about the free flow of money to ensure his defeat from Malampuzha constituency.
 |
Nearly 1.5 million school students will no longer use Windows for computer education. About 56,000 teachers are now brushing up their Linux skills |
His appointment of economist Prabhat Patnaik as vice-chairman of the state planning board is perceived to be an attempt to address the agrarian crisis plaguing the state, which has seen a large number of farmers’ suicides in Wayanad district. The government is now floating an agricultural commission, a debt relief commission and a price stability commission to tide over the crisis. As immediate relief, he ordered the waiver of all loans to farmers who had committed suicide and a moratorium on all agricultural loans. As with his anti-cola stance, the courts stayed the implementation of the Bill on self-financing educational institutions but it boosted the morale of dalits and economically weaker sections. The Bill had set aside 50 percent seats in professional colleges for Scheduled Castes/Scheduled Tribes, Other Backward Classes, Backward Classes and economically weaker sections. The Kerala Assembly passed the Bill unanimously but the private college managements appealed in the Kerala High Court and the Supreme Court.
But the challenges from his party colleagues are yet to ebb. Should Kerala have a Buddha-type pro-reform CM like Pinarayi Vijayan or a doctrinaire and Stalinist VS, asks www.pinarayivijayan.org, a new website promoted by his party rivals. In the 1996 Assembly election, his adversaries ensured that Achuthanandan lost in Mararikkulam constituency even as the party won a thumping majority. He first won Malampuzha in 2001, but the Congress-led United Democratic Front took the Assembly majority. In the run-up to the state elections earlier this year, the pre-poll drama saw his rivals try to cold shoulder him by denying him a ticket. The cadre, however, saw it as punishment for doing all the right things. Ultimately, his popularity forced the Vijayan faction to eat humble pie and the party declared his candidature from Malampuzha. On the day he was to take over as chief minister, the party’s Malayalam mouthpiece Desabhimani carried photographs of all ministers on page one except Achuthanandan’s. The paper also carried a front-page advertisement from a business tycoon wishing the new government luck. This tycoon is not known for his transparent dealings and had been on Achuthanandan’s wrong side. Party sources say the businessman splurged crores to ensure his defeat.
It is Achuthanandan’s copybook non-pragmatic Communism that has been the reason why his rivals and critics can’t stand him. The same quality endowed him with such influence that rivals, MA Baby and TM Thomas Isaac, begged him to visit their constituencies and inaugurate their campaign. As a disciplined party cadre, Achuthanandan went and spoke for about three hours in each constituency on the party manifesto. At the end of the speech, he urged voters to cast their ballot for party candidates.
Achuthanandan’s supporters range from tribal leader CK Janu and women’s leader K. Ajitha to women and youth. To Kerala’s Marxists, he is one of the last of the galaxy of stalwarts like AK Gopalan, BT Ranadive, Pramode Dasgupta and EMS Namboodiripad. His politics is also known to be shrewd and one that doesn’t favour opportunism. The CM’s political line was proved correct when former Congress leader K. Karunakaran’s Democratic Indira Congress (Karunakaran) was denied entry into the ldf. There was considerable pressure from the Vijayan group to ally with Karunakaran. According to Achuthanandan, such an alliance would smack of political opportunism.
“Those who are opposed to my political philosophy and style of approach never missed opportunities to shower me with abusive language. Comic programmes being aired by Malayalam television channels are also trying to portray me in poor light. On most occasions, they stoop to the level of character assassination. However, I have no vengeance against anybody who is involved in such activities. There is no need to be insensitive to the artists behind these comedy programmes, who make a meagre earning out of them to support their families,’’ he said in response to the public outcry against television programmes, which showed him in poor light.
Achuthanandan may be the lone CM in the country who has no friends in any industrial house. And unlike Buddhadeb, he is proud of his Communist lineage. Addressing a rally in Hyderabad recently, he remembered the sacrifice of more than 4,000 Communists who took part in the Telangana rebellion.
“I wish to salute the martyrs who bring me courage to decide in favour of the poor. My government would strive to achieve what the martyrs of Telangana dreamed about,” he said.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Menopause at 30 for millions in poverty
A young woman in Shikohabad in Firozabad district of Uttar Pradesh died a mysterious death 20 years ago. The reason for the death haunted her parents and relatives for days. Finally they found that it was her sanitary napkin that killed her. She had used an old blouse during her menstrual period. A rusted hook on it gave her tetanus that killed her. In the days when none dared to speak about a woman's menstrual period other than treat it as a matter of shame and embarrassment, an elder in
the family actually called women in the village to appeal to them to pay attention to the clothes they used as napkins.This incident is one of the many that have inspired a young man in Delhi to actually make sanitary napkins from waste clothes for every poor and needy woman in the country through his NGO Goonj. He and his network of 300 volunteers all over the country are preparing to send their first consignment of plastic-free napkins from waste and donated clothes to Shikohabad villages next month. At Shikohabad, another NGO would hand over the packets of folded clothes to self-help groups for further improvisation. Cords would be attached to each rectangular piece of cloth napkin by the SHGs and then distributed among women. The napkins are nothing but pieces of cloth that are actually waste material found in bags of donated clothes meant for Goonj's larger Vastradaan project. The pieces are washed four times and sun dried. They are then cut into neat rectangular shape and packaged as ten pieces per person in Gupta's office in Delhi's Sarita Vihar. The project answers the most basic need of every woman - that of a clean piece of cloth to wear during the three to four days of their monthly menstrual cycle.
The story of the tetanus death caused by the dirty rusted piece of cloth in Shikohabad is not the only inspiration for Anshu Gupta. A 35-year-old man who left his job as a management boss to start Goonj, he has many studies of women in need of a clean piece of cloth. \nIn fact when Gupta is told that the thin folds of clothes in his ten in one packet may not last for four days for any woman, he reels out another case study. A woman in Chennai told him that she used just two napkins for the entire period of four days. This was because she had no money to buy napkins, he says. \nGupta then talks of women he met in Dharavi's slums in Bombay. He found women who make do with any piece of cloth during the four days of bleeding, exposing themselves to disease and often death. It could be old clothes, wet clothes, or clothes used for cleaning the floors. \nSays Gupta, the scarcity of clean clothes comes from the scarcity of space for drying as also from shame and fear of men in the family. In Dharawi, women told Gupta that if at all they washed the clothes, there was little opportunity to dry them. Drying them in the sun was out of the question. \n"We dry them by hanging them behind the doors when the elders and men in the family are away. The clothes don't dry by the time the men are back. So we make do with the wet clothes," Gupta quotes the women as saying. \nGupta also points to the case of a woman in Chennai who died after being bitten by a centipede hiding in the old clothes she used during the cycle. This story came to him from bloggers who have responded to a news report on his clean piece of cloth initiative. \nGupta says that menstrual bleeding is considered synonymous with dirt traditionally, and the woman herself is treated as such at that time. So women consider it all right to use any cloth when they bleed. They don't relate this with their health. In fact use of unclean clothes during menstrual periods is one of the main reasons for cervix cancer says Gupta. \n",1]
);
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The story of the tetanus death caused by the dirty rusted piece of cloth in Shikohabad is not the only inspiration for Anshu Gupta. A 35-year-old man who left his job as a management boss to start Goonj, he has many studies of women in need of a clean piece of cloth. In fact when Gupta is told that the thin folds of clothes in his ten in one packet may not last for four days for any woman, he reels out another case study. A woman in Chennai told him that she used just two napkins for the entire period of four days. This was because she had no money to buy napkins, he says. Gupta then talks of women he met in Dharavi's slums in Bombay. He found women who make do with any piece of cloth during the four days of bleeding, exposing themselves to disease and often death. It could be old clothes, wet clothes, or clothes used for cleaning the floors. Says Gupta, the scarcity of clean clothes comes from the scarcity of space for drying as also from shame and fear of men in the family. In Dharawi, women told Gupta that if at all they washed the clothes, there was little opportunity to dry them. Drying them in the sun was out of the question. "We dry them by hanging them behind the doors when the elders and men in the family are away. The clothes don't dry by the time the men are back. So we make do with the wet clothes," Gupta quotes the women as saying. Gupta also points to the case of a woman in Chennai who died after being bitten by a centipede hiding in the old clothes she used during the cycle. This story came to him from bloggers who have responded to a news report on his clean piece of cloth initiative. Gupta says that menstrual bleeding is considered synonymous with dirt traditionally, and the woman herself is treated as such at that time. So women consider it all right to use any cloth when they bleed. They don't relate this with their health. In fact use of unclean clothes during menstrual periods is one of the main reasons for cervix cancer says Gupta.
Gupta has prepared graphic literature for distribution with the napkins. It is about the ability of the sun to kill germs in the clothes. If every woman heeded this, a lot of health problems can be prevented.Fifty per cent of women in villages suffer from white discharge that often is an indication of cancer. Even otherwise, this is caused by lack of hygiene, says Gupta. A clean piece of cloth is the least one can do to provide reproductive health care. After Shikohabad, the cargo of sanitary napkins proceeds to villages in 13 other states where Goonj is linked up with several NGOs, and 300 volunteers. \nThe lack of a clean piece of cloth is something that is shared in common by the poor and the women living in conflict areas. Gupta plans to take the drive to Kashmir and the North East where the agency lending a helping hand is the Army itself. \nThe Army would supply packets of clean cloth napkins to women in conflict areas, he says. And the Army jawans would also receive literature educating them on the necessity of women having access to clean cloth during the menstrual cycle. I am in the midst of preparing the literature, he reveals. \nHis inspiration for this special drive for Kashmir and the North East and maybe later for conflict areas abroad comes from the story of a Thai woman who is now in a senior position in the Ashoka Fellowship. Gupta, who is an Ashoka Fellow himself, says that the woman in her days as a guerilla had to use pieces torn from mosquito nets during menstrual bleeding. \nThe mosquito netting was hardly suitable and often caused rashes, according to the Thai woman. And the women guerillas also could not dry the scarce clothes anywhere too long. They had to run with the wet clothes for fear of being traced by the army. Gupta's only regret is that not a single funding agency in the world considers clothing, not to speak of sanitary napkins, as a cause worth funding. Gupta is today raising funds for his clothing campaign through a network of various kinds of volunteers. \n",1]
);
//-->
He adds, "Our packet of clothes will help the women dry their clothes for two or three days before they wear it. Again the packet is also a message in cleanliness, besides telling the women that this is not something to be neglected. Gupta has prepared graphic literature for distribution with the napkins. It is about the ability of the sun to kill germs in the clothes. If every woman heeded this, a lot of health problems can be prevented.Fifty per cent of women in villages suffer from white discharge that often is an indication of cancer. Even otherwise, this is caused by lack of hygiene, says Gupta. A clean piece of cloth is the least one can do to provide reproductive health care. After Shikohabad, the cargo of sanitary napkins proceeds to villages in 13 other states where Goonj is linked up with several NGOs, and 300 volunteers. The lack of a clean piece of cloth is something that is shared in common by the poor and the women living in conflict areas. Gupta plans to take the drive to Kashmir and the North East where the agency lending a helping hand is the Army itself. The Army would supply packets of clean cloth napkins to women in conflict areas, he says. And the Army jawans would also receive literature educating them on the necessity of women having access to clean cloth during the menstrual cycle. I am in the midst of preparing the literature, he reveals. His inspiration for this special drive for Kashmir and the North East and maybe later for conflict areas abroad comes from the story of a Thai woman who is now in a senior position in the Ashoka Fellowship. Gupta, who is an Ashoka Fellow himself, says that the woman in her days as a guerilla had to use pieces torn from mosquito nets during menstrual bleeding. The mosquito netting was hardly suitable and often caused rashes, according to the Thai woman. And the women guerillas also could not dry the scarce clothes anywhere too long. They had to run with the wet clothes for fear of being traced by the army. Gupta's only regret is that not a single funding agency in the world considers clothing, not to speak of sanitary napkins, as a cause worth funding. Gupta is today raising funds for his clothing campaign through a network of various kinds of volunteers.
There are newspaper volunteers who donate their newspapers and magazines monthly. There are cloth volunteers who become collection centres for all old clothes in the neighbourhood. There are old used paper volunteers who provide paper on whose unused side Goonj does its writing. The money from sale of newspapers provides some income for the organization, which aspires to spread its motto of clothing for all and clean napkins for all women beyond this country. "I have a ready made network of Ashoka Fellows all over the world. I just need carriers for the idea so that more and more women benefit in areas of need," he says. \n\n\n\nOn 1/23/07, Sudhir Devadas <sudhirdin@gmail.com \n> wrote: \n\nThe Times January 23, 2007 \nMenopause at 30 for millions in poverty\nJeremy Page in Delhi\nDoctors identify malnutrition link \nProblem greater in rural areas\nMillions of women in India are going through the menopause as young as 30 because of chronic malnutrition and poverty, according to a study by a prominent Indian think-tank. The research suggests that almost one in five women in the country have gone through the \nmenopause by the age of 41. \nMalnutrition is believed to be a contributory factor, particularly in rural areas, although the study did not address the causes. Yesterday doctors called for further research into the condition. \n\nThe study, by the Institute for Social and Economic Change, based in Bangalore, found that 3.1 per cent of Indian women — about 17 million — reached ",1]
);
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There are newspaper volunteers who donate their newspapers and magazines monthly. There are cloth volunteers who become collection centres for all old clothes in the neighbourhood. There are old used paper volunteers who provide paper on whose unused side Goonj does its writing. The money from sale of newspapers provides some income for the organization, which aspires to spread its motto of clothing for all and clean napkins for all women beyond this country. "I have a ready made network of Ashoka Fellows all over the world. I just need carriers for the idea so that more and more women benefit in areas of need," he says.
Menopause at 30 for millions in poverty
Jeremy Page
in Delhi
Millions of women in India are going through the menopause as young as 30 because of chronic malnutrition and poverty, according to a study by a prominent Indian think-tank. The research suggests that almost one in five women in the country have gone through the menopause by the age of 41.
Malnutrition is believed to be a contributory factor, particularly in rural areas, although the study did not address the causes. Yesterday doctors called for further research into the condition.
The study, by the Institute for Social and Economic Change, based in Bangalore, found that 3.1 per cent of Indian women — about 17 million — reached
menopause between the ages of 30 and 34. Eight per cent ( 44 million) are in \nmenopause by the time they are 39, the institute's study showed, while 19 per cent have gone through "the change of life" by the age of 41. \nMedical experts say that natural menopause, when the ovaries stop producing oestrogen, occurs in women between the ages of 45 and 55, with the global mean being 51. Premature \nmenopause is defined as the cessation of menstruation before the age of 40 and affects an estimated 1 per cent of women worldwide. \n"It is very clear that a significant proportion of women in India are reaching menopause prematurely," wrote Dr T. S. Syamala and Dr M. Sivakami in the study, which has been presented to the Indian Parliament. "This is significant because most health programmes in India focus on women of reproductive age," Dr Syamala told The Times. "It is high time that we started to focus on post-menopausal women because of increasing life expectancy in India and because of the health risks associated with premature \nmenopause." \nThe study was based on a National Family Health Survey carried out in 1998 and 1999 and examined a sample of more than 90,000 married women aged between 15 and 49 across 26 Indian states. It did not examine the physiological reasons for the higher rates of premature \nmenopause in India — where the average menopausal age is 44.3 years. \nIt found that the problem was much more common in rural areas, among agricultural workers, and among women who were illiterate and had a low body mass index. "Most of these women are malnourished and that could be one of the main reasons for premature \nmenopause," said Dr Syamala.
menopause between the ages of 30 and 34. Eight per cent ( 44 million) are in menopause by the time they are 39, the institute's study showed, while 19 per cent have gone through "the change of life" by the age of 41.
Medical experts say that natural menopause, when the ovaries stop producing oestrogen, occurs in women between the ages of 45 and 55, with the global mean being 51. Premature menopause is defined as the cessation of menstruation before the age of 40 and affects an estimated 1 per cent of women worldwide.
"It is very clear that a significant proportion of women in India are reaching menopause prematurely," wrote Dr T. S. Syamala and Dr M. Sivakami in the study, which has been presented to the Indian Parliament. "This is significant because most health programmes in India focus on women of reproductive age," Dr Syamala told The Times. "It is high time that we started to focus on post-menopausal women because of increasing life expectancy in India and because of the health risks associated with premature menopause."
The study was based on a National Family Health Survey carried out in 1998 and 1999 and examined a sample of more than 90,000 married women aged between 15 and 49 across 26 Indian states. It did not examine the physiological reasons for the higher rates of premature menopause in India — where the average menopausal age is 44.3 years.
It found that the problem was much more common in rural areas, among agricultural workers, and among women who were illiterate and had a low body mass index. "Most of these women are malnourished and that could be one of the main reasons for premature menopause," said Dr Syamala.
\nSome health experts questioned the study's methods and conclusions and called for more focused research into the problem. "I'm not surprised, except that it's interesting to hear figures being specified in this way," said Urvashi Jha, founder and former president of the Indian \nMenopause Society. "I tend to be quite cynical about these sort of statistics, but we definitely need more research into this important field." \nDr Jha and Dr Syamala called on Indian health authorities to devote more resources to post-menopausal women, especially in rural areas where hormone replacement therapy is unavailable. \n"India's overburdened and underfunded public healthcare system has no special programmes for older women," the study concluded.
The study also found that the proportion of menopausal women aged between 30 and 49 was highest in the populous agricultural states of Andhra Pradesh and Bihar and lowest in Kerala, West Bengal and Rajasthan.
Some health experts questioned the study's methods and conclusions and called for more focused research into the problem. "I'm not surprised, except that it's interesting to hear figures being specified in this way," said Urvashi Jha, founder and former president of the Indian Menopause Society. "I tend to be quite cynical about these sort of statistics, but we definitely need more research into this important field."
Dr Jha and Dr Syamala called on Indian health authorities to devote more resources to post-menopausal women, especially in rural areas where hormone replacement therapy is unavailable.
"India's overburdened and underfunded public healthcare system has no special programmes for older women," the study concluded.
the family actually called women in the village to appeal to them to pay attention to the clothes they used as napkins.This incident is one of the many that have inspired a young man in Delhi to actually make sanitary napkins from waste clothes for every poor and needy woman in the country through his NGO Goonj. He and his network of 300 volunteers all over the country are preparing to send their first consignment of plastic-free napkins from waste and donated clothes to Shikohabad villages next month. At Shikohabad, another NGO would hand over the packets of folded clothes to self-help groups for further improvisation. Cords would be attached to each rectangular piece of cloth napkin by the SHGs and then distributed among women. The napkins are nothing but pieces of cloth that are actually waste material found in bags of donated clothes meant for Goonj's larger Vastradaan project. The pieces are washed four times and sun dried. They are then cut into neat rectangular shape and packaged as ten pieces per person in Gupta's office in Delhi's Sarita Vihar. The project answers the most basic need of every woman - that of a clean piece of cloth to wear during the three to four days of their monthly menstrual cycle.
The story of the tetanus death caused by the dirty rusted piece of cloth in Shikohabad is not the only inspiration for Anshu Gupta. A 35-year-old man who left his job as a management boss to start Goonj, he has many studies of women in need of a clean piece of cloth. \nIn fact when Gupta is told that the thin folds of clothes in his ten in one packet may not last for four days for any woman, he reels out another case study. A woman in Chennai told him that she used just two napkins for the entire period of four days. This was because she had no money to buy napkins, he says. \nGupta then talks of women he met in Dharavi's slums in Bombay. He found women who make do with any piece of cloth during the four days of bleeding, exposing themselves to disease and often death. It could be old clothes, wet clothes, or clothes used for cleaning the floors. \nSays Gupta, the scarcity of clean clothes comes from the scarcity of space for drying as also from shame and fear of men in the family. In Dharawi, women told Gupta that if at all they washed the clothes, there was little opportunity to dry them. Drying them in the sun was out of the question. \n"We dry them by hanging them behind the doors when the elders and men in the family are away. The clothes don't dry by the time the men are back. So we make do with the wet clothes," Gupta quotes the women as saying. \nGupta also points to the case of a woman in Chennai who died after being bitten by a centipede hiding in the old clothes she used during the cycle. This story came to him from bloggers who have responded to a news report on his clean piece of cloth initiative. \nGupta says that menstrual bleeding is considered synonymous with dirt traditionally, and the woman herself is treated as such at that time. So women consider it all right to use any cloth when they bleed. They don't relate this with their health. In fact use of unclean clothes during menstrual periods is one of the main reasons for cervix cancer says Gupta. \n",1]
);
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The story of the tetanus death caused by the dirty rusted piece of cloth in Shikohabad is not the only inspiration for Anshu Gupta. A 35-year-old man who left his job as a management boss to start Goonj, he has many studies of women in need of a clean piece of cloth. In fact when Gupta is told that the thin folds of clothes in his ten in one packet may not last for four days for any woman, he reels out another case study. A woman in Chennai told him that she used just two napkins for the entire period of four days. This was because she had no money to buy napkins, he says. Gupta then talks of women he met in Dharavi's slums in Bombay. He found women who make do with any piece of cloth during the four days of bleeding, exposing themselves to disease and often death. It could be old clothes, wet clothes, or clothes used for cleaning the floors. Says Gupta, the scarcity of clean clothes comes from the scarcity of space for drying as also from shame and fear of men in the family. In Dharawi, women told Gupta that if at all they washed the clothes, there was little opportunity to dry them. Drying them in the sun was out of the question. "We dry them by hanging them behind the doors when the elders and men in the family are away. The clothes don't dry by the time the men are back. So we make do with the wet clothes," Gupta quotes the women as saying. Gupta also points to the case of a woman in Chennai who died after being bitten by a centipede hiding in the old clothes she used during the cycle. This story came to him from bloggers who have responded to a news report on his clean piece of cloth initiative. Gupta says that menstrual bleeding is considered synonymous with dirt traditionally, and the woman herself is treated as such at that time. So women consider it all right to use any cloth when they bleed. They don't relate this with their health. In fact use of unclean clothes during menstrual periods is one of the main reasons for cervix cancer says Gupta.
Gupta has prepared graphic literature for distribution with the napkins. It is about the ability of the sun to kill germs in the clothes. If every woman heeded this, a lot of health problems can be prevented.Fifty per cent of women in villages suffer from white discharge that often is an indication of cancer. Even otherwise, this is caused by lack of hygiene, says Gupta. A clean piece of cloth is the least one can do to provide reproductive health care. After Shikohabad, the cargo of sanitary napkins proceeds to villages in 13 other states where Goonj is linked up with several NGOs, and 300 volunteers. \nThe lack of a clean piece of cloth is something that is shared in common by the poor and the women living in conflict areas. Gupta plans to take the drive to Kashmir and the North East where the agency lending a helping hand is the Army itself. \nThe Army would supply packets of clean cloth napkins to women in conflict areas, he says. And the Army jawans would also receive literature educating them on the necessity of women having access to clean cloth during the menstrual cycle. I am in the midst of preparing the literature, he reveals. \nHis inspiration for this special drive for Kashmir and the North East and maybe later for conflict areas abroad comes from the story of a Thai woman who is now in a senior position in the Ashoka Fellowship. Gupta, who is an Ashoka Fellow himself, says that the woman in her days as a guerilla had to use pieces torn from mosquito nets during menstrual bleeding. \nThe mosquito netting was hardly suitable and often caused rashes, according to the Thai woman. And the women guerillas also could not dry the scarce clothes anywhere too long. They had to run with the wet clothes for fear of being traced by the army. Gupta's only regret is that not a single funding agency in the world considers clothing, not to speak of sanitary napkins, as a cause worth funding. Gupta is today raising funds for his clothing campaign through a network of various kinds of volunteers. \n",1]
);
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He adds, "Our packet of clothes will help the women dry their clothes for two or three days before they wear it. Again the packet is also a message in cleanliness, besides telling the women that this is not something to be neglected. Gupta has prepared graphic literature for distribution with the napkins. It is about the ability of the sun to kill germs in the clothes. If every woman heeded this, a lot of health problems can be prevented.Fifty per cent of women in villages suffer from white discharge that often is an indication of cancer. Even otherwise, this is caused by lack of hygiene, says Gupta. A clean piece of cloth is the least one can do to provide reproductive health care. After Shikohabad, the cargo of sanitary napkins proceeds to villages in 13 other states where Goonj is linked up with several NGOs, and 300 volunteers. The lack of a clean piece of cloth is something that is shared in common by the poor and the women living in conflict areas. Gupta plans to take the drive to Kashmir and the North East where the agency lending a helping hand is the Army itself. The Army would supply packets of clean cloth napkins to women in conflict areas, he says. And the Army jawans would also receive literature educating them on the necessity of women having access to clean cloth during the menstrual cycle. I am in the midst of preparing the literature, he reveals. His inspiration for this special drive for Kashmir and the North East and maybe later for conflict areas abroad comes from the story of a Thai woman who is now in a senior position in the Ashoka Fellowship. Gupta, who is an Ashoka Fellow himself, says that the woman in her days as a guerilla had to use pieces torn from mosquito nets during menstrual bleeding. The mosquito netting was hardly suitable and often caused rashes, according to the Thai woman. And the women guerillas also could not dry the scarce clothes anywhere too long. They had to run with the wet clothes for fear of being traced by the army. Gupta's only regret is that not a single funding agency in the world considers clothing, not to speak of sanitary napkins, as a cause worth funding. Gupta is today raising funds for his clothing campaign through a network of various kinds of volunteers.
There are newspaper volunteers who donate their newspapers and magazines monthly. There are cloth volunteers who become collection centres for all old clothes in the neighbourhood. There are old used paper volunteers who provide paper on whose unused side Goonj does its writing. The money from sale of newspapers provides some income for the organization, which aspires to spread its motto of clothing for all and clean napkins for all women beyond this country. "I have a ready made network of Ashoka Fellows all over the world. I just need carriers for the idea so that more and more women benefit in areas of need," he says. \n\n\n\nOn 1/23/07, Sudhir Devadas <sudhirdin@gmail.com \n> wrote: \n\nThe Times January 23, 2007 \nMenopause at 30 for millions in poverty\nJeremy Page in Delhi\nDoctors identify malnutrition link \nProblem greater in rural areas\nMillions of women in India are going through the menopause as young as 30 because of chronic malnutrition and poverty, according to a study by a prominent Indian think-tank. The research suggests that almost one in five women in the country have gone through the \nmenopause by the age of 41. \nMalnutrition is believed to be a contributory factor, particularly in rural areas, although the study did not address the causes. Yesterday doctors called for further research into the condition. \n\nThe study, by the Institute for Social and Economic Change, based in Bangalore, found that 3.1 per cent of Indian women — about 17 million — reached ",1]
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There are newspaper volunteers who donate their newspapers and magazines monthly. There are cloth volunteers who become collection centres for all old clothes in the neighbourhood. There are old used paper volunteers who provide paper on whose unused side Goonj does its writing. The money from sale of newspapers provides some income for the organization, which aspires to spread its motto of clothing for all and clean napkins for all women beyond this country. "I have a ready made network of Ashoka Fellows all over the world. I just need carriers for the idea so that more and more women benefit in areas of need," he says.
Menopause at 30 for millions in poverty
Jeremy Page
in Delhi
Millions of women in India are going through the menopause as young as 30 because of chronic malnutrition and poverty, according to a study by a prominent Indian think-tank. The research suggests that almost one in five women in the country have gone through the menopause by the age of 41.
Malnutrition is believed to be a contributory factor, particularly in rural areas, although the study did not address the causes. Yesterday doctors called for further research into the condition.
The study, by the Institute for Social and Economic Change, based in Bangalore, found that 3.1 per cent of Indian women — about 17 million — reached
menopause between the ages of 30 and 34. Eight per cent ( 44 million) are in \nmenopause by the time they are 39, the institute's study showed, while 19 per cent have gone through "the change of life" by the age of 41. \nMedical experts say that natural menopause, when the ovaries stop producing oestrogen, occurs in women between the ages of 45 and 55, with the global mean being 51. Premature \nmenopause is defined as the cessation of menstruation before the age of 40 and affects an estimated 1 per cent of women worldwide. \n"It is very clear that a significant proportion of women in India are reaching menopause prematurely," wrote Dr T. S. Syamala and Dr M. Sivakami in the study, which has been presented to the Indian Parliament. "This is significant because most health programmes in India focus on women of reproductive age," Dr Syamala told The Times. "It is high time that we started to focus on post-menopausal women because of increasing life expectancy in India and because of the health risks associated with premature \nmenopause." \nThe study was based on a National Family Health Survey carried out in 1998 and 1999 and examined a sample of more than 90,000 married women aged between 15 and 49 across 26 Indian states. It did not examine the physiological reasons for the higher rates of premature \nmenopause in India — where the average menopausal age is 44.3 years. \nIt found that the problem was much more common in rural areas, among agricultural workers, and among women who were illiterate and had a low body mass index. "Most of these women are malnourished and that could be one of the main reasons for premature \nmenopause," said Dr Syamala.
menopause between the ages of 30 and 34. Eight per cent ( 44 million) are in menopause by the time they are 39, the institute's study showed, while 19 per cent have gone through "the change of life" by the age of 41.
Medical experts say that natural menopause, when the ovaries stop producing oestrogen, occurs in women between the ages of 45 and 55, with the global mean being 51. Premature menopause is defined as the cessation of menstruation before the age of 40 and affects an estimated 1 per cent of women worldwide.
"It is very clear that a significant proportion of women in India are reaching menopause prematurely," wrote Dr T. S. Syamala and Dr M. Sivakami in the study, which has been presented to the Indian Parliament. "This is significant because most health programmes in India focus on women of reproductive age," Dr Syamala told The Times. "It is high time that we started to focus on post-menopausal women because of increasing life expectancy in India and because of the health risks associated with premature menopause."
The study was based on a National Family Health Survey carried out in 1998 and 1999 and examined a sample of more than 90,000 married women aged between 15 and 49 across 26 Indian states. It did not examine the physiological reasons for the higher rates of premature menopause in India — where the average menopausal age is 44.3 years.
It found that the problem was much more common in rural areas, among agricultural workers, and among women who were illiterate and had a low body mass index. "Most of these women are malnourished and that could be one of the main reasons for premature menopause," said Dr Syamala.
\nSome health experts questioned the study's methods and conclusions and called for more focused research into the problem. "I'm not surprised, except that it's interesting to hear figures being specified in this way," said Urvashi Jha, founder and former president of the Indian \nMenopause Society. "I tend to be quite cynical about these sort of statistics, but we definitely need more research into this important field." \nDr Jha and Dr Syamala called on Indian health authorities to devote more resources to post-menopausal women, especially in rural areas where hormone replacement therapy is unavailable. \n"India's overburdened and underfunded public healthcare system has no special programmes for older women," the study concluded.
The study also found that the proportion of menopausal women aged between 30 and 49 was highest in the populous agricultural states of Andhra Pradesh and Bihar and lowest in Kerala, West Bengal and Rajasthan.
Some health experts questioned the study's methods and conclusions and called for more focused research into the problem. "I'm not surprised, except that it's interesting to hear figures being specified in this way," said Urvashi Jha, founder and former president of the Indian Menopause Society. "I tend to be quite cynical about these sort of statistics, but we definitely need more research into this important field."
Dr Jha and Dr Syamala called on Indian health authorities to devote more resources to post-menopausal women, especially in rural areas where hormone replacement therapy is unavailable.
"India's overburdened and underfunded public healthcare system has no special programmes for older women," the study concluded.
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