monoharpukur slum in south calcutta

Sheela, a worker at Disha's nursery school, took me around her neighborhood in the slum off of Monoharpukur Roard, near Hazra Road in South Kolkata. I had informal conversations with eight women and one man there, all from Bihar and all people Sheela didi knows well (didi is a term of respect, meaning sister). Sheela didi is also from Bihar, and she purposely took me to a Bihari section of the slum. She thought it would make less sense for me to talk to Bengalis, since I don't know the language, but when I actually do some interviews I will ask if she's willing to do the talking, and translate the responses for me as she goes along. I think it would work well, since I'm beginning to understand a bit of Bangla, and even trying to utter some small phrases!  And she seemed to enjoy taking me around and was proud to show off the slum, so I don't think she'll mind it.  She's on the left:

And that was not a typo... she was very proud of the slum. And with good reason, it seemed to me. It was clean and vibrant, with all sorts of facilities. In fact, every person I talked to emphasized how happy they are with the facilities (suvidha) available to them. They have electricity, and plenty of water (not in each room of course, just in the central areas of the slum). This is really different from every single slum area I visited in Mumbai, where water was one of their biggest problems. In Calcutta, at least in the south, there are hand pumps all over the streets, maintained by the Kolkata Municipal Corporation, from which anyone can get free and (farily) clean water. The slum had several of these pumps in common areas.

Besides that, the people I spoke with told me they appreciate having schools and a hospital nearby. None of them own their rooms... they live on government land and pay rent. But no one thought it likely at all that the government may decide to destroy their slum if the land is ever sold to a developer. They acknowledged that this very situation happens in the suburbs once in a while, but for reasons I was unable to uncover, they thought their slum was safe.

And physically, at least, it looked like a very permanent settlement. Bricks and cement instead of tarps and corrugated metal. Other impressive infrastructure included wide, paved alleys that were used as areas for socializing, cooking and washing clothes; and functioning drains in the alleys. Inside, the tenements were very much like the ones I visited in Bombay... families lived in very cramped, one-room spaces.

I must say, I was a bit perplexed by this experience. I am used to talking to slum dwellers who have a positive attitude, who like their neighborhoods, and are content with their homes. But no where in Bombay did I encounter such sunny sentiments. And it wasn't just one person... it was the running theme from room to room.  I almost wonder if they are just being reserved around a stranger/ outsider.

I also had some conversations with people about ration cards, election cards, as well as their thoughts about voting. And Sheela Didi and I had a long, whispered conversation about political parties, and how sensitive of a topic political affiliation is in this neighborhood. More on that later.

photo

a photo from my walks around the city... it was on a construction site.  The clothing hung up to dry is a sure sign that the workers on this site also live on it.  Once the building is complete, they'll live at the site of their next gig.

article 21: 'right to life'

You wouldn't think that Article 21 of the Indian constitution would be too controversial.  It says "No person shall be deprived of his life or personal liberty except according to procedure established by law."  This is frequently called the 'right to life' article.  The important thing about it is that the supreme court of India has interpreted it in quite expansive ways.

Looking at the court's individual decisions-- such as the ruling that all slum and pavement dwellers have the right to live somewhere and city governments are responsible for upholding this right; or the ruling that all destitute families are entitled to 35 kgs of grain every month-- well, I generally support these policies.  A minimal standard of shelter and food are essential for being able to make a living.

But considering the big picture of the rulings that have derived from Article 21, I can't decide if I agree with the vision of the supreme court.  Its not that I think the rulings are too redistributive or too specific to be constitutionally enshrined.  Rather, maybe food and shelter are too important to be placed primarily under the responsiblity of the Indian government. 

The reach of government is, of course, one of the basic problems of politics.   Most people would agree that government should be responsible for guaranteeing rights like freedom of speech and conscience.  Only a government has a system of courts and police forces that can enforce these rights.  Food and shelter, maybe, are more basic than civil liberities like free speech.  More important for survival, definitely.  But also not something that only government institutions are equipped to provide.  So it doesn't seem right that the supreme court of India entrusts the country's local governments-- many of them rife with corruption, bureaucratic inefficiencies and discriminatory practices--with such an essential task. 

This tension is also central to American politics... issues about the size of government; and our two main parties' visions of what they do and don't trust government to do.  In India, though, the political debate doesn't really take those terms.  I think it is more taken for granted that the government should do these tasks... the debate, rather, seems to be more about implementation.

Billions of rupees go into the nationally-organized rationing system, but the distribution of the food is entirely the responsiblity of hte states.  And many of them screw it up, meaning that hte very poorest don't actually get any food.  I like the humanitarian ethic of the Indian constitution and can understand the supreme court's desire to make the humanitarian values into specific policies.  But underpaid corruption-prone public officials and bureaucrats shouldn't be relied on to guarantee goods that are essential for life.

Slumdog Millionaire too rosy about slums?

I've been listening to commentary about Slumdog Millionare with interest.  I just spent 3 months of 2008 traveling to Mumbai slums on an almost daily basis.  The footage of the Dharavi slum in the movie was amazing.  The aerial shots and the reeling camera motion captured the energy and vibrance that I felt while walking in and out of Dharavi's alleys. 

The author of this review on BBC calls Slumdog "kitschy, but not kitschy enough to stand up to Bollywood."  In other words, the movie isn't realistic enough, because it stereotypically uses carefree children to gloss over the truth of slum life.  Yet, it doesn't have the spirit of a true Bollywood film either.

I, on the other hand, liked the movie for its low-dose of Bollywood.  For some reason, I have not yet developed a taste for Bollywood's dramatic flourishes.  Slumdog had some of those, but wasn't packed with them.  It was an avowedly unrealistic fairytale ending, complete with a musical number, but until the ending, the movie had none of the obvious drama--overt musical cues, over-acted facial expressions-- that are Bollywood signatures.

And I also liked its low-dose of realism.  There is a palpable zest for life and plenty of productive activity in Dharavi.  But everybody has a hard life.  One of the hardest things that I saw is that so many people's children weren't healthy because of the lack of hygiene.  It was an ongoing concern of most women.  That doesn't mesh with the happy slum-is-my-playground scenes in the movie.  Its also important to remember that Dharavi is a particularly vibrant slum, packed with small and large-scale industries.  Other slums around Mumbai-- for example in the Govandi area-- give off a more truly depressed vibe. Nevertheless, I was struck by the basic optimism of many of the slum residents I met in Mumbai, and I think Slumdog Millionare captures that spirit.  It gives you only a small part of the picture of living in a slum, but maybe a part that is not often acknowledged.

a half-day at a ration card office

Muna Apa (the Apnalaya social worker I'm shadowing) took me to visit a ration card office.  She goes there once a week and represents people who need a ration card- related service but are not getting an adequate response from the officials there.  Often, if you're uneducated and poor (i.e- can't pay a bribe), the officers just tell you to get lost, or indefinitely delay your application.  So Muna Apa, armed with the knowledge of exactly what is legal and what is not, and also with the clout of the Apnalaya organization behind her, helps people who face this situation.  

I really got to have a good look a how the application process works.  The ration card building itself was a long, one-story structure with a large dirt lot in front of it.  She took me into the office where the clerks sat, and told me their functions.  (You go to this window to add your name to a ration card.  This one is for new applications...).

When we left the office, Muna Apa asked if I had noticed the men crowding around the various desks.  She explained that they were "brokers" meaning they accepted money from people who had the means to bribe to get their ration card business done.  The brokers facilitate the bribe between the ration card officer and the applicant.  That way, the applicant never has to pay a ration card officer directly, and officers can easily deny the charge that they accept bribes.  There were probably about 10 or 12 brokers there today.  Apnalaya often complains and has them removed from the office, and they stay away for a week or two, but often drift back.  During that week, they just conduct their business right next to hte building, technically off the premises.  The brokers take a cut of the bribe, the ration card clerks get some, the ration officer (head of the office) gets some, as do people in higher levels of government... the money follows the chain of command pretty far, according to Muna Apa and also according to others I have spoken to.

After I met the ration officer, Muna Apa told me that he had been suspended a little while ago for bribery related reasons, but now he's back.  The rest of the time we were there (about an hour or so), Munna Apa was in and out of his office, bringing him the documents or stories of various people that she is representing.

One of the people she was helping today was named Amina, a woman in her late 30's or early 40's who wants to add her name to her uncle's ration card.  She put in the application 15 days ago but hasn't heard any response.  The official who is in charge of her application seems to be on vacation.  She is told to check back on Thursday, when he is expected to return, but Munaapa says it is their classic way of operation, to keep telling people to come back the next day, tire them out, but not give them what they need.  An additional reason Amina has a hard time dealing the office is that she doesn't speak Marathi, and all of their forms are only printed in Marathi. 

Amina is from UP and has been in Mumbai about 12 or 13 years, ever since she got married.  She needs to be added to a ration card before she can take her 12 year old son to the hospital for an operation he needs.  Munapapa checks over her paperwork and finds it in order.  She goes to the ration card official in the large office, explains Amina's problem.  She's sent to the ration officer's office.  He tells her to go back to the other office.  She goes back and forth twice, and then someone tells her to wait until the guy who is in charge of Amina's file comes back from vacation.  So Munaapa feels there is nothing else she can do at the moment, she'll take up Amina's case again in a couple of days.

 

For more on what I've learned about ration cards, see here and here.