The Invisible Worker

I was born in a sleepy little village called Elapully in Palakkad and for the first 2.5 years of my life, lived a rustic unfettered existence in the care of my grandparents, looked after by a motley group of characters you’d find present in any Sathyan Anthikad drama. This group included maids and servants who had served our family for generations, shepherds, small time workers and so many others who brought joy to my first couple of years on earth.

After moving to Hyderabad later on, I became an annual visitor, spending all my summer vacations there and over a period of time, all these people were alienated from my sense of existence. They remained merely caricatures in my memory as people who had served our family for years. I had matured – my education had created insurmountable barriers between myself and these people. The class barrier suddenly became so obvious – the people who were playmates and companions in my early childhood had now become mere plebeians in my eyes.

Modern education and the economic changes in India since the 90s have broken many of the differences that arise due to vast differences in the working class. Caste is almost of no relevance in the modern age, except possibly when it comes to marriage. Religion is, of course, a much bigger thorn but as we work in a 24x7 environment, these barriers have broken and to quite an extent, office life (at least in the private sector) is bereft of too many caste and religious issues. It has created a class of people who can make money and learn to discriminate economically – the class rules roost here.

We all have maids or other servants (for want of a better word) who work 7 days a week in our houses. They do not have any PF/Gratuity and are not normally entitled to any official leaves. We do not care for them but the day they are absent, mind you, all hell breaks loose. Would you be surprised how many people do not even know the name of the people working in their houses or have any idea about their families? Now in a normal corporate scenario, that would not be a very endearing HR thought, right?

According to a study, "Invisible Servitude: An in-depth study of domestic workers in the world", by an organisation called Social Alert, there are an estimated 20 million women, children and men in domestic work in India. Of these, 92 per cent are women, girls and children, 20 per cent are under 14 years of age and 25 per cent are between the ages of 15 to 20. In Mumbai alone, this study (released in March 2000) estimated that there were six lakh domestic workers of whom 80,000 are full-time (http://www.indiatogether.org/2003/sep/ksh-domestic.htm).

Is the servant culture something which is against the spirit of humanity and equality? There are thousands of Indian homes where such a "servant culture" prevails – the kids grow up never picking up their clothes, never washing their clothes, never doing any work except eating, perhaps reading and definitely watching television. Aren’t we breeding a secondary class of citizens at our homes by allowing such a culture in our homes?

I think it was an article by Kalpana Sharma which made me realise that I did not know the name of my maid. I found it out but I still could not bring myself to ask her that – wouldn’t be an admission of my lack of concern for her? I know it is shameful but sometimes, we just do not realise the importance of these people who toil for us every day with no great incentive in life. After all, being employed as a menial worker or maid is not anyone’s idea of working oneself up the hierarchy.

A culture of servitude is being fostered upon each generation and it is important that parents realise that it is this upbringing that creates future class related schisms in our lives. We see a lot of youngsters working in Mumbai and elsewhere who bring home grown servants to work at their place. These are generational servants who have for years led lives where the only karma they have is working for their masters.

Servants have an invisible presence in our lives - a presence we have all learnt to take for granted. Everybody always complains about how lazy or unreliable their servants are and are very careless in passng judgements about them. In most Indian homes, servants may not eat the same food as their employers; forget the idea of even sitting together on the sofa or table. They do extensive labour and are routinely made to do extra chores for no extra pay.

Maids are excluded from labour laws – it is the informal sector and does not come under any legal scanner. The result of this exclusion is for everyone to see - long hours, bad pay, inhuman treatment, physical and sexual harassment. Since they are not even recognized as workers, there is no legal protection for them under Indian labour laws; they can only go to a criminal court.

Most of us, knowingly or inadvertently, tend to treat domestic workers as inferior beings. Many of us educated liberals have questioned this attitude in ourselves and attempted to be more democratic, but class notions are too deeply rooted in our culture to ward them off so easily. So, while we feel pained at the capitalistic society that cares two hoots for menial and blue collared workers, we remain totally oblivious to the people who work at our own place.

Unfortunately, the issue is not such a simple one – it is a fact that the haves will run the world and the have nots will have to submit to them. When the labour is in surplus and employment is limited, this remains an unrecognized industry that sustains and feeds a large number of people. But it is imperative that we also recognize the value of human life here - every human being deserves respect and it is upto us to ensure that we practice it and inculcate it in our children.

The laws alone cannot deal with this problem - constitution can only set laws but attitudes cannot be legislated. They say a society is measured by how it treats its most vulnerable. And I dare so, we are not earning any laurels on this front!!!

Minimum City

(Courtesy - Mario Miranda)
I keep telling myself that I will not rail against the city that has accompanied me for a greater part of my career but don’t blame me if I need to react after dear Devika goes on and on boisterously about Chicago. C’mon, isn’t it embarrassing that despite tall claims of being one among the fast growing economies in the world, we can’t even provide a decent infrastructure to the people who struggle to make it happen?

One of the first places that I saw when I landed in Mumbai (in 2004) was the Borivilli Railway Station. Now, feeling like a stranger in a new city can be expected but this was like the height of everything that I had seen in my life till that time-an avalanche of human flesh leeching the platform and storming every train that came by till I realized that if I had to reach office every day, I’d have to accept that if you were to live in Mumbai, you had to live this way.

Struggle is a way of life in these trains and I became a victim of self-pity for those 2 years when I used the Central Railway, in my daily sojourns from Powai to Lower Parel. My knees bore a major brunt of the stress that was imposed by scores of plebeians, who seemed to find some sadistic pleasure in venting their pressure on this hapless passenger, while the rest of the body went through such myriad convolutions that it substituted my need for exercise everyday (Of course, PP and I called the experience equivalent to jackivekkan every day in the train).

My next peak of pleasure was experiencing the turbulence of that wonderful station-Kurla –the Central-Harbour meeting point. God knows, how I have felt so small by this creation of HIS – a place so spectacularly unkempt and dirty that all my benchmarks of cleanliness were swept singularly off my table.

One day, when I was trying to get off the train while returning from Nerul, I could not do so and lo behold, some kind Samaritan decided to help me in no uncertain terms by giving me a nice little kick and I found myself lying flat on my stomach, parallel to the platform face and observing it at a very close range. But the humble man in me thanked HIM that no one had actually trampled me in this ocean of humanity – a Mumbai learning, be grateful and find happiness from such simple pleasures in life.

Till I witnessed this city at the age of 23, I was in awe about Mumbai. Danny Boyle had not made an entrance till then and the Internet revolution was slowly making its presence felt and I remained a youngster as exposed to the cleanliness of Mumbai as Indian batsmen to the swinging ball overseas.

Having come from a small and non-descript village in Kerala, where real estate prices are just as steep as the rising ball in Indian pitches and lived in a big Central Government accommodation all my life, I was suddenly thrown into the big, bad world of Mumbai’s housing scene. So, you had flats with sizes less than the size of the drawing room of my house but twice the rental – Christ, can there be a greater puncturing of one’s ego than living in such a place. But then, you take heart from the fact that you are the not the only one – just so many d***heads living together and sharing accommodation in each square tract of land.

So, with a decent regular bank account and savings, I struggle to find myself a good housing in Mumbai, while my family and peers in the rest of the World live dreams bigger than my flat. DJ arrives from Pondicherry and his first comment when he enters the flat is – Entha de, veedu thodangiya munpe thanne kazhinno?? (The house is finished before it even started). I feel small that I live in such a cramped place but at a healthy rent of 11,000, all I can manage is a 400 sq feet house (or it lesser?).

My brother in Bangalore pays a lesser rent and lives in a flat 3 times larger than this humble abode but when I cry hoarse lamenting for a 2 BHK or more space, fellow Mumbaikars wonder what’s wrong with me. They take a stroll into the house and congratulate for me for managing to get such a house (furnished accommodation) at such a price, in the heart of the city.

They just can’t figure what I would do with so much extra space – they’d rather believe that anything more than this can be made into another room. I have calculated that I am paying about Rs 27 per square feet here while bro pays about Rs 8.50 – wipes out all the differential income that my MBA is supposed to generate for me. But can’t blame them; Space is such a premium object here that if you find a house, especially, close to the office, then you are in the so-called lucky group – the group whose traveling time is less than an hour.

But what about my fundamental Right to Breathe? Colleagues have a smirk on their face when I talk about luxuries in life like Oxygen; probably, why actually businesses like Oxygen bars actually flourish. I am kind of scared at how the world actually would be for the Next Generation – breathing derivatives, maybe!!!

I remember Vir Sanghvi, in an article in the SUNDAY, saying how having lived in Mumbai and Kolkatta, he missed the happening feeling and crowds of Mumbai. Sorry, mate, I am not able to relate to this sense of nostalgia, where I am inundated by teaming millions from all places and if I dare to complain, my boss (I assume he is joking) remarks that half the credit for this population explosion is due to Non-Marathis like me who have taken away the opportunities of the poor Marathis..Tch..Tch…

Angst and gratitude lessons from Mumbai to be continued in future posts….

Behind the Burqa

The French President Sarkozy says “In our country, we cannot accept that women be prisoners behind a screen, cut off from all social life, deprived of all identity. The burqa is not a religious sign; it’s a sign of subservience, a sign of debasement. It will not be welcome on the territory of the French republic.”

Is the burqa a sign of subservience as Sarkozy says or this is a typical Western cliche which derides the understanding of other religions, without understanding their cultural subtleties? The burqa has become a symbol of oppression (rightly or wrongly) and we are appalled at the Burqa culture being carried out by the Taliban and the rest of extremist Islam, in the name of safeguarding their religion. But the very presence of a burqa does not make a nation backward or its women subservient.

The very principle of freedom of expression that Sarkozy and the West invokes while outlawing the burqa is violated by this ban. If the burqa is a forced wear, as in some nations, it definitely needs to be condemned but when people wear it out of their own accord as in many parts of the world, including the liberal West, it is undemocratic for the State to step in and ban it. For every woman who has the right not to wear a burqa, every woman also has the right to wear the burqa.

There is a difference between a secular state and an irreligious one and what Sarkozy is doing is moving away from the principle of equal respect to all religions and enforcing the might of the State. The threat of radical Islam and terrorism is scaring Europe leading to such “popular” actions as seen in France and Turkey. The melting pot culture of US provides freedom to religions to practice freely without getting into the debate of State Vs Religion while what Europe is trying to do is essentially force a spirit of Europeanism on its people, fearing an invasion of its culture (assuming that something called homogeneous European culture actually exists).

While Sarkozy has gone public with his remarks and set up a Commission to look into the burqa laws, France’s reaction is not an isolated one. For the past 80 years, Turks have lived in a secular state founded by Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, who rejected headscarves as backward-looking in his campaign to secularise Turkish society. (Even so, it is estimated that as many as 65% of Turkish women cover their heads with a scarf).

The city council in Maaseik, Belgium on December 27, 2004 criminalized the wearing of the burqa and the niqab in its public places. The Dutch Government has been debating a law to say ‘no’ to the burqa in public spaces, claiming that it disturbed public order, citizens and safety. In July 05 the Italian parliament approved anti-terrorist laws which make hiding one's features from the public - including through wearing the burqa - an offence.

There are cultural differences among various nationalities and religions, which Sarkozy has not attempted to understand. What exhibits itself as subservience to one culture probably reflects the urge of the other to assert oneself using one’s religious identity, here clearly, a frontal expression of Islamic identity. When the State tries to crush such symbolism, it invites trouble for itself and makes it difficult for it to reach out to its own people. Coercing someone not to wear something in the name of freedom does not make you very different from the perpetrators of the original threat.

As Amit Varma also points out, wearing a burqa may be a rational decision taken by an individual to handle societal and family cultures to adhere one’s traditions. While this may not be a perfect situation, it does not give the State the freedom to impose its ideas of mistaken freedom on people, who are happy with their freedom.

Also, Sarkozy needs to realize that irrespective of the symbolic nature of the burqa in the Western Eye, not every woman wears it out a sense of coercion and that there are many who like to wear it either due to a personal liking or because it presents them with an opportunity to associate themselves with their identity of being a Muslim.

Thomas Jefferson said we can use our laws to coerce the acts of the body, but not the operations of the mind. People should be free to worship their god freely, so long as other laws, neutral laws of general applicability, are not violated. Coercive attitudes towards any direction can be counter-productive and banning the burqa may only push the liberal Muslim more towards radicalism as he fears his culture being trampled by a majoritarian culture.

In the same vein, if burqa represents an ugly side of Islam, what stops Governments from looking at Sikhs with turbans and bearded Muslims as militants ? Who determines what constitutes the dress of a fundamentalist vis-a-vis that of a liberal. Should the State get involved in personal matters and dilute its rule in administration by bringing in regulations in areas where it has no business to be in?

Nothing symbolizes the rift between Islam and the West so non-violently but pungently as the burqa, which Westerners find especially offensive when located on their own streets. The real issue of security and religious freedom is being drowned by focusing attention on symbols which are merely periphery items on the war on global terrorism. But then banning a headscarf is so much easier to do than trying to make an effort to dig and sort out the larger brewing problem of religious fundamentalism.

Just Another V-Day

I think it was somewhere in the 90s that the idea of the Valentine’s Day gained ground. From an innocuous day in history when a poor saint was executed for uniting lovers to becoming a momentous day in the battle between fanatics and liberals, it has been quite a journey for this day; as if love were not complicated enough. St. Valentine (may his soul rest in peace) would be horrified at the cultural spin that this day has undergone (especially in the Indian context).

Valentine’s Day is a wonderful corporate creation; a day when poor lovers shore up their pockets to celebrate a non-event and make money for the entertainment industry. The strategy was again put into use (initiated by World Gold Council, jewellers and banks) to make Akshaya Tritiya a religious event; who’s ever heard of the significance of buying gold on this day before the marketers gave it an auspicious spin?

Nevertheless, V-Day would have merely remained a day where lovers and wannabe lovers splurged money at the altar of love if not for the kind intervention of moral and religious guardians of this country, who want to protect the youth from evil forces. It is ironic that in their efforts to do away with the V-Day, they have unwittingly given it a fillip and so Feb 14th has suddenly come to represent a clash between 2 Indias (actually, there are many more Indias who are quite indifferent to this).So, Feb 14th every year is a now a media story where panelists discuss the Right to Freedom – the right to be in pink chaddis vis-à-vis the requirement to be in Indian dresses.

The definition of Indianess and Indian culture has become highly significant now. Groups like the Shiv Sena and the Sri Ram Sene have been bandying the word freely in all their interactions. Suddenly, Indian culture is a very homogenous term and the traditions are defined by Indian men who have a very narrow concept of nationalism and plurality.

So, wearing a sari and being a quintessential Bharat Mata (a figment of Hindi film industry) are Indian attributes while wearing jeans and going to pubs/bars render you un-Indian. With such narrow definitions of cultural nuances, is it any surprise that the guardians of culture have never thought beyond these silly symbols of Bharathiyatha?

Two things here –

Who defines what is Indian Culture, if there is something called an “Indian culture”? Is there something as amorphous as an Indian culture which actually dictates our way of life? Culture and society are terms that grow with time and vary across geographies. A Punjabi in the North has much more in common with the Pakistani than a Malayali like me scribbling my thoughts here?

Our dressing, social customs and are attitudes in life are largely shaped by our family and immediate society. In larger cities like Bangalore and Mumbai, where people from different languages and cultures work together, there is a greater mixing of these cultural aspects, which brings a beautiful heterogeneity. It is this heterogeneity that we have been taught to be proud of and celebrate.

Is it necessary to live by the so-called Indian culture? Even if by chance, someone does something which is not in sync with what is generally accepted and understood as Indian culture, does it give anyone the right to take law into one’s hands and attempt to institutionalize acceptable culture? Why is it necessary to live within these walls and subject oneself to rules which are of no significance to the individual? There is a dangerous cocktail of culture and nationalism being mixed and attempted to be force fed to people who oppose this.

As long as the Freedom to Expression does not infringe upon others’ rights, there is no reason why we cannot allow people to celebrate. I believe that Valentine’s Day is purely a commercial event but my conviction cannot prevent someone else from celebrating it. Bringing in the talk of Indian culture and traditions is just a ruse by these fringe organizations to publicize themselves.

Isn’t it ironical that something as silly as Valentine’s Day has become the rallying point for liberals in their fight against cultural nationalists? The Pink Chaddi campaign is smart, innovative and appealing but there is a real danger of creating the empowered women stereotype – the Modern Indian women who believes that going to bars and pubs is the way forward.

This does not in any way represent the educated women just the same way as the loony world of the Sena/Sene does not represent Indian culture. Ideological clashes lead to a polarity of thoughts many a times and it would be unfortunate if the real debate gets lost in the din of chaddis and saris.

A mature democracy allows a healthy debate among its various constituents and does not undermine the right to disagree with the majority. The Freedom to question, imagine and debate is an intrinsic part of our lives and if and when we lose the right to celebrate this plurality and freedom, the country becomes a mere geographical tract of land where boundaries are manned by aliens like Pramod Muthalik, who masquerade as Indians, protecting us from cultural attacks.

Celebrating the Slumdog

About 3 years back, as I stood at the Crossword Book Store in Powai, I picked up, for some unknown reason, an innocuous book called Q&A by an Indian diplomat, Vikas Swarup. The book had a rather incredible premise of a slum kid winning a Who Will Win a Billion Show and his story. It was an easy read and found its place in some remote corner of the house, meant for books that have a read and throw impact (Of course, it was a bestseller and translated into 14 languages).

Honestly, I’d never have thought about the book again if not for Danny Boyle making such a super hit out of it. I have been searching for the book in my house but no trace of it – it never made to my Best Read list and I think the same fate awaits Slumdog Millionaire, despite all the hype about it.

Cinematically, Slumdog Millionaire could not hold my attention for the entire span; it seemed like the Bollywoodisation of a Hollywood movie. The language and accent of the so-called “Slum dogs” put me off (this is not a fantasy movie that I had to believe in all this). Aren’t movies like Satya, Company and Black Friday more compelling in their outlook on Mumbai but then not being made in English means that these movies will never achieve the cult status of the Slumdog.

Other than Jamal Malik (the name in the novel was Ram Mohammed Thomas), most of the characters are either caricatures or have negligible screen presence and do not register in one’s mind. The romance also seemed pretty half-baked and seriously, did Freida Pinto actually become a celebrity for a movie where she has a blink and you will miss role? The story premise is definitely different but then merely being different is not a good enough strength.

The quizmaster, played by Anil Kapoor, is upset at a slum kid walking away with 20 million rupees (someone forgot to call it lakhs and crores) but if I were the producer of the show, I’d be tearing my hair at the quality of the questions – C’mon, how can the 20 Million Question be as simple as who is the Fourth Musketeer; I am sure they’d have this question in the elimination round of Paanchvi Pass? Jamal can recognize the man on the American dollar but not on the Indian Rupee!!!! Don’t even wonder how using a gun makes you know that Samuel Colt invented the revolver!!! Well, well, well, talk about being Lucky by Chance…

A R Rahman is, undoubtedly, a musical genius and we are all happy that finally, he has found recognition outside India. But there is no way that Jai Ho and O Saaya are going to wind up as Rahman classics; even after repeated hearing (imperative for Rahman’s scores), I am sorry to say that the songs have not made much of an impact on my musical psyche. Songs from Roja, Duet and quite a few of his Tamil movies top my list of all time Rahman Favourites; while the background scores of Thiruda Thiruda and Swades are probably unbeatable. How about nominating the music of Dilli 6 or Jodha Akbar for the Oscars this year?

Seeing Gulzar’s name being nominated for the lyrics did make for funny reading-after years of brilliant poetry, being nominated for an average song at an international level. The contrast between English and vernacular cinema never seemed so obvious. Of course, the last Oscar nominee has clearly reasons to be proud about – Rasool Pookutty has been nominated for sound engineering in the movie. Winning a technical award at an international level is serious business and this award is probably more significant..

Maybe, we are all just over reacting; the Academy Awards are not the Olympics. These are American awards nominated and voted by Americans while the rest of the world applauds the Big Brother doling out awards on the basis of what they make out of world cinema. There is also a perspective difference in our perceptions of this slum world vis-à-vis the West.

Danny Boyle in an interview to Anuradha Sengupta in CNBC TV-18 says that he sees “an incredible amount of energy in these slums” and is humbled “by their ability to survive against all odds”. When we look at these slums, how do we react to it? Most of us want to avoid them (I include myself here) and look at the city through the rosy, tinted glasses of our class. It is uncomfortable to see poverty, stench, people sleeping on pavements and children begging on the streets. This is the India that we want to avoid as we rush to our offices, oblivious of the plight of the people struggling at the other end of India.

I don’t have a problem with the idea of the West making money out of Indian squalor and poverty –c’mon, put money where you want and if people want to watch it, who cares. Quite a few people have been offended by this “slum tourism” that Boyle has marketed in his movie but it isn't all unreal, right? There is a massive underbelly that 20th Century India still carries which seems to offend perpetrators of the Modern Indian Economic Miracle, as seen in Karan Johar movies.

Rocking and Rising India is still loyal to the 80-20 Pareto principle and is not something that we can simply ignore. Ignorance cannot wish away the reality of a massive penury lurking underneath – funnily, this is not an underbelly but actually quite visible on the surface and Mumbai is probably the most conspicuous symbol of this.

Is it too much of a coincidence that as the world struggles in the midst of one of the biggest recessions that it has seen, the world of art and cinema has sought to honour Aravind Adiga’s The White Tiger and Danny Boyle’s Slumdog Millionaire, both works that look at India’s seamy underbelly with a somewhat no-holds barred approach.

Of course, The White Tiger is pretty dark and does not actually present any form of redemption to the reader while the Slumdog viewer goes back happily with the thought of the 2 lovers meeting finally and performing a dance to everyone’s satisfaction. Maybe, we should simply rechristen 2008 as the Year of the UnderDog or better still Year of the SlumDog………