ration card office visit

Yesterday was a full day of research.  I sat in on a meeting with a ration card officer in Dharavi, and also (thanks to Aazamina's friends Dev, Mansi and Niki) interviewed two women who live in a slum on the other side of town.  But this entry is about the ration card office visit and the things I have learned from it.

In the early afternoon I accompanied Nitin, Indira (both staff of LEARN India) and Bano Apa to the Dharavi ration card office.   Bano Apa is the president of the Mahila Kamgar Sangathna--women workers union-- and she is also a vendor who makes and sells bhajiye (fried snacks) on the street.  Nithin and Banu Apa talked to the ration card officer in charge of the Dharavi branch.  Actually, Nitin did almost all the talking, and Bano Apa, who in meetings is so forceful and articulate, was kind of shy and silent.  I remember she had said at an earlier meeting that she finds these authority figures a bit intimidating, and difficult to speak to as equals.  In fact, at that time, she had been telling the group that the Sangathna was their one way to make their voice heard in front of people they would normally be afraid to approach.

Here's a picture of Bano Apa I took before we went into the ration card office.  She is wearing her LEARN Mahila Kamgar Sangathan ID

Before I describe the meeting, I should point out that by law, the ration card was not intended to be anything but a way to get subsidized essential goods from the national Public Distribution System (kind of like the U.S. social security card).   And it is still not a necessary proof of identity by law.  But in practice its hard to get anything done without it (at least in Mumbai... not sure yet about other places in India).  As far as most people are concerned, their basic right to exist in a particular area or residence stems from their possession of this document.  From what people have told me so far, in Mumbai, its harder to get one if you're not Marathi-speaking and poor migrants from North India are the least likely to be issued ration cards.  And really, for anyone, no matter what their language or origin, the only sure way to get one is to pay a very hefty bribe... well out of the capabilities of most poor people.

Anyway, Nitin and this officer basically had a 5-10 minute conversation about the fact that two years after the women had submitted their initial applications for ration cards, they still have not gotten them.  Over this time, they have been asked to submit various documents-- such as other proofs of identity, and affidavits that their name does not appear on another ration card elsewhere.  Now, the ration card officer is asking for a no-objection letter from their landlords.

The women in this group all pay rent to a ghar-malik, meaning landlord, which means the dwelling is registered under that person's name in official records.  It is also common that if the housing isn't on the landlord's private land, then he is probably paying bribes to government officials to continue to occupy that space.  The important point is that there is no way any ghar malik will ever write a letter to anyone stating that he does not object to the tenancy of someone on his property and that he vouches for their reliability in that residence.  For one thing, it may create legal issues for him, if the tenant then uses the letter to make a claim on the property.  For another, the informal nature of a lot of slum housing means that its kind of a contradiction of terms to put that sort of thing in writing... bottom line is that no landlord will accept that risk when his business is an under-the-table affair.  

And this seems to be common information.  So much so that the three people who went to this meeting were unanimous in telling me that the only reason the ration card officer asked for a no-objection letter is because he knows there is no way any landlord will issue one.

Nitin asked the officer to show him the government circular that requires a no-objection letter, knowing that one does not exist.  The ration card officer said that it wasn't the letter in particular he wanted, but he needed somebody to take responsibility for the tenants that were seeking ration cards  (this part, I didn't really understand fully and will ask Nitin or Indira about it next time I see them).  So Nithin said that the LEARN Mahila Kamgar Sangathna, an organization with an address and several people to contact, will assume that responsibility, and the officer seemed ok with this.  The group's next task is to write a letter for each woman's application to that effect.

Maybe, after that is done, ration cards will be issued.

One reason its taken so long so far is that government offices are (purposely?) very sluggish.  Two years ago, to begin this ration card process for the Sangathna women, Nithin met with a state-level minister, who issued an order to Mantralaya (the name for Maharashtra's administrative headquarters) to get the process going.  That order took a couple of months in coming.  Then, the transfer of instructions from officials at Mantralaya to the Dharavi ration card office branch took another 4 months.  Now, things are getting more and more pressing for the women who are hoping for ration cards, because it is one of their only chances of not becoming homeless once the next phase of Dharavi's re-development starts (expected to happen within the year) and their current homes are torn down.  Without ration cards, they don't have a chance of being included in the government's relocation schemes.  

The causes of this situation are so varied:  the system of bribes and corruption, the government's drive to beautify and develop Mumbai and the money brought in by big development companies, migration and overcrowding in the city, native Maharashtran identity politics.  The effect, though, is a really pronounced situation of third-class citizenship for internal migrants especially... Indian citizens who are guaranteed rights of movement and livelihood by the constitution, but face a hostile local environment.  A lot of the identity and residence issues they face are similar to those of illegal immigrants in the U.S. and Europe (and often more severe), except that they are perfectly legal.