What happens when a Dalit seeks justice from the courts? Most times, the struggle may be just getting there, or charges are not framed years after a crime. This two-part story, done 20 years ago, continues to be relevant in 2020 #Dalits#HathrasCase 1/13 ruralindiaonline.org/articles/a-dal…
When Bhanwari Devi’s 13yo daughter was raped in the bajra fields by an upper caste youth, she picked up a lathi & went after the rapist herself. She had no faith in the police & courts. She was prevented from seeking any redress by the dominant castes of Ahiron ka Rampura. 2/13
It doesn’t mean much, though, in Rajasthan. On average in this state, one Dalit woman is raped every 60 hours. Data from reports of the National Commission show that nearly 900 cases of sexual assault of SC women were registered with the police between 1991 and 1996. 3/13
That’s round 150 cases a year – or one every 60 hours. The numbers don’t measure the reality. In this state, the extent of under-reporting of such crimes is perhaps the worst in the country. 4/13
In Naksoda of Dholpur district, the victim of one of the most dramatic atrocities has fled the village. In April 1998, Rameshwar Jatav, a Dalit, sought the return of Rs. 150 that he had loaned an upper caste Gujjar. That was asking for trouble. 5/13
Enraged by his arrogance, a band of Gujjars pierced his nose and put a ring of two threads of jute, a metre long and 2 mm thick, through his nostrils. Then they paraded him around the village, leading him by the ring. 6/13
The incident caused national outrage. It was widely reported overseas as well, both in print and on television. All that publicity, however, had no impact on ensuring justice. Terror within the village and a hostile bureaucracy at the ground level saw to that. 7/13
And with the sensational and spectacular out of the way, the press lost interest in the case. So, apparently, did the human rights groups. 8/13
The victims faced the post-media music on their own. Rameshwar completely changed his line in court. Yes, the atrocity had happened. However, it was not the six people named in his complaint who had done it. He could not identify the guilty. 9/13
The senior medical officer, who had recorded the injuries in detail, now pleaded forgetfulness. Yes, Rameshwar had approached him with those wounds. He could not remember, though, if the victim had told him how he had come by those unusual injuries. 10/13
Rameshwar’s father, Mangi Lal, has himself turned hostile as a witness. “What do you expect us to do? We live here in terror. The authorities were totally against us. The Gujjars can finish us any time. Various powerful people, and some in the police, forced this on us.” 11/13
Rameshwar has left the village. Mangi Lal has sold one of the just three bighas of land the family owns to meet the costs of the case thus far. 12/13
For the world, it was a barbaric act. In Rajasthan, it just falls into one of thousands of 'Other IPC' (Indian Penal Code) cases. Which means cases other than murder, rape, arson or grievous hurt. Between 1991-96, there was one such case registered every four hours. 13/13
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‘Who knew the lack of rain could kill my art?’ (a thread)
Three decades ago, no one wanted to teach a young Sanjay Kamble how to work with bamboo.
Today, when he wants to teach everyone his dying craft, no one wants to learn.
“It’s ironic how times have changed,” the 50-year-old says.
With the bamboo that grows in his one-acre field, Kamble mainly crafts irlas – a kind of raincoat used by paddy farmers in this region in western Maharashtra.
“My lungs feel like stone. I can barely walk,” says Manik Sardar.
In November, 2022, the 55-year-old was diagnosed with silicosis – an incurable pulmonary disease. “I have no interest in the upcoming elections,” he continues,
“I am only worried about my family’s condition.”
Naba Kumar Mandal is also a patient of silicosis. He adds, “elections are about false promises. For us, voting is a routine task. No matter who comes to power, things will not change for us.”
“I reach here by 8:45 a.m. and we start work by nine. By the time I am home, it is 7-7:30 in the evening,” says Madan Pal. ‘Here,’ is the tiny carrom board factory in Suraj Kund Sports Colony in Meerut city, Uttar Pradesh.
Karan, 32, who has been working here for 10 years, inspects each stick of wood and segregates those that are damaged and will be returned.
“It is not difficult to make a board, but it is not easy to make the coins glide on the playing surface.”
Lenindhasan, or Lenin– as he is called – and his friends, are trying to replace modern rice varieties and resist mono-cropping. Their plan is to restore lost diversity. And to germinate a rice revolution.
It's a different kind of revolution, led by another kind of Lenin.
Lenin cultivates 30 varieties of rice. He sells another 15 raised by fellow farmers. And he conserves 80 types of paddy seeds. All this, in his family’s six-acre farm in Tamil Nadu’s Tiruvanamalai district.
It seems as if he’s been farming and selling paddy for decades. But it’s only been six years.
Before he became a farmer, Lenin was a corporate employee in Chennai, with two degrees and a good salary.
Life has only become harder in the last 10 years (A thread)
India's poorest homes continue to rely on minor forest produce like mahua and tendu leaves, along with the assured Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee (MGNREGA) programme.
As they prepare for voting today in the General Elections 2024, Adivasi villagers here in Arattondi village say their lives have only become harder in the last 10 years...