There are only a handful of Dalit students and faculty members at the elite institute, but they face widespread discrimination and harassment
PC Vinoj Kumar
Chennai
All the noise against extending reservations for Other Backward Classes (OBCs) in centrally-funded institutions might be a little irrelevant given that an institute like IIT Madras has parted with only a fraction of the 22.5 percent quota for students belonging to the Scheduled Castes (SCs) and the Scheduled Tribes (STs). According to information provided by the institute’s deputy registrar, Dr K. Panchalan, in September 2005, Dalits accounted for only 11.9 percent of the number of students. They were even fewer in the higher courses — 2.3 percent in ms (Research) and 5.8 percent in Ph.D. Out of a total of 4,687 students, Dalits made up only 559.
Activists who have been fighting for proper implementation of reservations for Dalits describe IIT Madras as a modern day agraharam — a Brahmin enclave. Located on a 250 hectare wooded campus in the heart of the city, the majority of the 460 faculty members and students here are Brahmins. According to WB Vasantha Kandasamy, assistant professor in the Mathematics department, there are just four Dalits among the institute’s entire faculty, a meagre 0.86 percent of the total faculty strength. There are about 50 OBC faculty members, and the rest belong to the upper castes, she says.
Vasantha says Dalit Ph.D scholars are routinely harassed. “They are forced to change their topic of research midway. They are unduly delayed, and are failed in examinations and vivas. It is a stressful atmosphere for them.” She says her support of Dalit students got her into the bad books of the management. (See Box)
There have been many agitations against the management in the past over not filling the Dalit quota and the alleged harassment of Dalit students. Activists say there were even fewer Dalit students and faculty members in the institute some years ago, and it was only because of efforts by parties like Paatali Makkal Katchi (PMK), Dravidar Kazhagam (DK), Viduthalai Chiruthaigal (VC) and Periyar Dravidar Kazhagam (PDK) that the situation improved. In 1996, K. Viswanath, general secretary of the IIT SC/ST Employees Welfare Association, remarked in a letter to the institute’s director that the institute was yet to have a professor from the SC/ST community even after 37 years of its existence. There were only two Dalits of the rank of assistant professor and there was just one Dalit scientific officer, he noted.
In 2000, the PDK published a book based on a study it did on the anti-Dalit attitude in the institute. The study noted that there were several departments at the institute where even after 41 years, “not a single Dalit student has been selected for doing Ph.D or has successfully completed his degree”. The study also stated that, “almost all M.Tech and ms Students in IIT were Brahmins.” The PDK is now demanding that the institute come out with a white paper providing details of the total number of Dalit students who have completed postgraduate and doctoral programmes. “The National Commission for SC/ST should closely monitor if reservation policy for Dalits is being strictly followed in student admissions,” says Viduthalai Rajendran, PDK general secretary.
The PDK is not alone in levelling such charges. Retired ias officer V. Karuppan, who is state convener of the National Campaign on Dalit Human Rights (NCDHR), recalls that in 2005 a “meritorious” Dalit student was denied admission to the Ph.D course in the Mathematics department. “They didn’t call him for an interview initially. But he was asked to appear for the interview after we argued his case with the authorities. But in the interview, they asked him irrelevant questions and failed him,” he says.
There have been many complaints of discrimination against Dalit students in the campus. The PDK study cites the case of a Dalit student Sujee Teppal, who had scored 94 percent in Maths, Physics, and Chemistry in the public intermediate exam. Sujee had also secured admission in bits, Ranchi and bits, Pilani but chose to attend IIT Madras, where in spite of her meritorious track record she was made to join the mandatory one-year “preparatory course” for Dalit students. According to the PDK study, “at the end of the course in which she only re-learnt her 12th standard syllabus, she was declared failed.” The institute refused to reverse its decision in spite of the intervention of the National Commission for SC/ST and the then state SC/ST minister Selvaraj in her favour.
Another serious charge against the institute is that successive directors have flouted rules in appointing faculty members, and do not advertise vacancies in newspapers. Former Congress MP Era Anbarasu has brought the issue to the notice of Human Resources Development Minister Arjun Singh in several letters. In the memorandum submitted to the minister on September 2, 2006, he states: “The ambiguity is apparent because even the number of vacancies is not announced. In order to broaden this arbitrariness, applications to the entry level position of assistant professor are invited for all the 15 departments at the same time. Norms and guidelines for selection are wilfully abandoned by the respective departments.”
Anbarasu wants a high-level committee to probe irregularities in appointments and the violation of reservation policies by the IIT management. He has levelled charges against director MS Ananth, whom he calls a “highly casteist man”. He says that disregarding all norms, Ananth has mostly chosen faculty members from his own community of Iyengar Brahmins. Of the six deans in the institute, four are from the Iyengar community.
In his memorandum to Singh, Anbarasu has demanded that the present director be replaced with someone from the OBC/SC/ST community as the institute has had only Brahmins as directors so far. “I met the minister (Arjun Singh) three or four times and discussed with him these issues. He promised to order a probe, but nothing has happened till now,” he says.
A PIL filed by Karuppan last year against the allegedly flawed selection process in IIT Madras was dismissed by the High Court. Karuppan has now filed a review petition. He also met the IIT director along with a senior leader of the CPI to discuss the reservation issue, and says the director told him that no policy of reservation for SC/ST was applicable to IIT Madras. Karuppan says there are several cases pending in courts against the institute’s selection and reservation policy. They include writ petitions by the IIT Backward Classes Employees Welfare Association, and the Vanniar Mahasangam.
An angry Thol Thirumavalavan, general secretary of the Dalit Panthers of India, says, “Dalits are only working as sweepers and scavengers in the institute”. He wants the IIT management to release a white paper containing details of appointments and admissions given to Dalits and OBCs. “The Tamil Nadu government should demand this information from the institute,” he says.
When Tehelka tried to meet IIT Director MS Ananth to get his views on the allegations against him and the institute, his secretary wanted this correspondent to send a mail stating the purpose for the interview. In the mail to the director, it was stated that the interview was needed “on the issue of SC/ST reservation policy in IIT, Madras.” His reaction on Anbarasu’s memorandum to the Union hrd minister levelling charges of corruption against him was also sought. However, his secretary said the director was not available for comments.
Jun 16 , 2007
Monday, February 1, 2010
Driving Hyundai Into A Corner?
The authorities are minimising the gravity of the alleged cheating by Hyundai India, in underpricing cars and parts sold to its Korean parent, reports PC VINOJ KUMAR
CARMAKER HYUNDAI has run into trouble after a Central Excise official accused it of cheating the government of an estimated Rs 3,000 crore in foreign exchange by undervaluing exports to its parent company. Manufacturing out of Sriperumbudur near Chennai, Hyundai Motor India is the country’s second-largest carmaker, selling about 3.3 lakh cars in 2007, of which about 50 percent were exports. Hyundai’s troubles with Central Excise Superintendent Samuel Wilson go back to 2004 when Wilson allegedly detected the company exporting cars and automobile components to its Korean parent company and other group entities at low prices. These were sometimes even below production cost, in violation of customs and excise rules and the Foreign Exchange Management Act.
Documents available with TEHELKA indicate that Wilson informed his seniors, but the department did not order an investigation. Based on Wilson’s reports, however, Fifth Pillar, a Chennai-based anti-corruption movement, has filed a case in the Madras High Court seeking a direction to the Revenue Department to take action against Hyundai. “It is one of the biggest scams in Indian corporate history. Top Revenue Department officials are in nexus with Hyundai to suppress the issue,” says activist T. Retna Pandian, who filed the petition.
According to Wilson, he got wind of the irregularities one month into his posting as superintendent of Central Excise, Poonamallee IV range. TEHELKA has a copy of the letter he wrote to Hyundai on August 9, 2004 — OC No:255/256/2004 — seeking clarifications on its exports pricing. The letter states: “It is observed from your export documents for thepast two years and also the present year, that you have been exporting cars, engine assemblies and spare parts to your parent company, viz., Hyundai Motor Corporation, Korea, and other group companies at nearly half the value of the cost of production.” The letter notes that the export price of a Santro in 2004 was less than the cost of producing a basic model of the car by sums ranging between Rs 58,000 and Rs 73,000. In the case of the Accent model, the difference ranged between Rs 1.22 lakh and Rs 1.49 lakh. Exported Santro engines were priced at $819.6 (approximately Rs 39,700 according to the then value), whereas the company had sold a defective engine of the same type for Rs 58,140 in the Indian market during the relevant period. The letter further points out that Hyundai was exporting engines for the Getz — a costlier model than the Santro — at $650 (at that time around Rs 30,000), far lower than even the Santro engine export price of $2,611 (then about Rs 1,25,200).
Hyundai’s reply was evasive, says Wilson. So, he wrote them another letter, reiterating the company’s violation of the rules. He also infor - med his senior, the Deputy Commissioner, Central Excise, Poonamallee Division, and submitted about 30 documents to back his claim. The documents, copies of which are with TEHELKA, seek to establish the vast difference between Hyundai’s export invoices and the cost of its cars as furnished by it to the Excise Department. For instance, in a statement to the department regarding its 2002-03 prices for cars, Hyundai had quoted the price of the Accent GVS as Rs 3.51 lakh. But the car’s price was lower by about a lakh, in an application to the Excise Department (No MC-00200029/02-03, dated September 12, 2002), related to exports to group company Hyundai Motor Algerie in Algeria.
In December that year, Wilson wrote again to his immediate boss about the violations, and suggested that an investigation be ordered. It was more than a year before he received a reply,dated February 7, 2006, in which the officer quoted the commissioner’s observation on the matter. “What is the issue from the Central Excise angle? If there is no Central Excise angle, why in the first place an investigation was commenced by the division/range?”
AFTER HIS seniors didn’t support him, Wilson shot off letters to the Prime Minister, the Union Finance Minister and the Chairman of the Central Board of Excise and Customs (CBEC). In a letter on July 29, 2006, he apprised them of the issues in contention and pleaded for “appropriate action”. Two months later, he received a reply from Rahul Nangare, an Under Secretary in the CBEC, asking him to meet the Chief Commisioner, Central Excise, Chennai. But when Wilson met him, he was allegedly informed that the CBEC had already decided there was nothing in the issues he had raised. Wilson then approached the Central Public Information Officer under the Right to Information Act, and requested information regarding the action taken on his report to the Prime Minister and its present status. If the file was closed, he wanted to know the basis on which it had been done and the details of the order, along with the file notings.
The response he got was shocking. In a letter dated February 26, 2007, an official, Kamal Dayani, noted that Wilson’s petition “could not be acted upon as it got mixed up with other papers and could not be readily located”. He was advised to contact the Revenue Department on the matter. After a series of letters, Sushil Solanki, Commissioner, CBEC, New Delhi, wrote that Wilson’s representation did not stand the scrutiny of law. Added to this was the observation of Jayendranath, Chief Commissioner, Central Excise, Chennai, who said that the “price variation between domestic clearances and exports is due to several duty concessions that accrue (to Hyundai) while exporting cars. Further, it is the prevalent practice adopted by most manufacturers-exporters to price their export at a competitive price, which is less than the domestic price.”
Wilson told TEHELKA, “It is a clever way of sidetracking the issue. I have always stated that the issue in contention relates to Hyundai’s export to parent and associate companies at below-production price, which is illegal. If it had exported cars to other parties at lower prices, it wouldn’t have been illegal.” Having ruffled too many feathers in the department, Wilson is now banking on legal and moral support from Fifth Pillar. According to activist lawyer Su Srivinvasan, who is appearing in the case on Fifth Pillar’s behalf, the case is due for hearing any day now, but none of the respondents had filed their counter affidavits even two months after notices were issued to them.
Jayendranath was not available when TEHELKA contacted his office. His secretary said DP Naidu, Additional Commissioner, Large Tax Payers Unit, was the officer dealing with Hyundai and directed Wilson to contact him. When contacted, Naidu refused to comment, saying the matter was in court. Hyundai Deputy General Manager (Corporate Communication), Rajiv Mitra, told TEHELKA: “The matter was investigated by the Commissioner of Excise and Customs and also by the Revenue Department. All allegations were found to be baseless. We consider these to be reliable and impartial authorities, and hence we do not feel that there is further need to comment on the matter.”
WRITER’S EMAIL
vinoj@tehelka.com
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 38, Dated Sept 27, 2008
CARMAKER HYUNDAI has run into trouble after a Central Excise official accused it of cheating the government of an estimated Rs 3,000 crore in foreign exchange by undervaluing exports to its parent company. Manufacturing out of Sriperumbudur near Chennai, Hyundai Motor India is the country’s second-largest carmaker, selling about 3.3 lakh cars in 2007, of which about 50 percent were exports. Hyundai’s troubles with Central Excise Superintendent Samuel Wilson go back to 2004 when Wilson allegedly detected the company exporting cars and automobile components to its Korean parent company and other group entities at low prices. These were sometimes even below production cost, in violation of customs and excise rules and the Foreign Exchange Management Act.
Documents available with TEHELKA indicate that Wilson informed his seniors, but the department did not order an investigation. Based on Wilson’s reports, however, Fifth Pillar, a Chennai-based anti-corruption movement, has filed a case in the Madras High Court seeking a direction to the Revenue Department to take action against Hyundai. “It is one of the biggest scams in Indian corporate history. Top Revenue Department officials are in nexus with Hyundai to suppress the issue,” says activist T. Retna Pandian, who filed the petition.
According to Wilson, he got wind of the irregularities one month into his posting as superintendent of Central Excise, Poonamallee IV range. TEHELKA has a copy of the letter he wrote to Hyundai on August 9, 2004 — OC No:255/256/2004 — seeking clarifications on its exports pricing. The letter states: “It is observed from your export documents for thepast two years and also the present year, that you have been exporting cars, engine assemblies and spare parts to your parent company, viz., Hyundai Motor Corporation, Korea, and other group companies at nearly half the value of the cost of production.” The letter notes that the export price of a Santro in 2004 was less than the cost of producing a basic model of the car by sums ranging between Rs 58,000 and Rs 73,000. In the case of the Accent model, the difference ranged between Rs 1.22 lakh and Rs 1.49 lakh. Exported Santro engines were priced at $819.6 (approximately Rs 39,700 according to the then value), whereas the company had sold a defective engine of the same type for Rs 58,140 in the Indian market during the relevant period. The letter further points out that Hyundai was exporting engines for the Getz — a costlier model than the Santro — at $650 (at that time around Rs 30,000), far lower than even the Santro engine export price of $2,611 (then about Rs 1,25,200).
Hyundai’s reply was evasive, says Wilson. So, he wrote them another letter, reiterating the company’s violation of the rules. He also infor - med his senior, the Deputy Commissioner, Central Excise, Poonamallee Division, and submitted about 30 documents to back his claim. The documents, copies of which are with TEHELKA, seek to establish the vast difference between Hyundai’s export invoices and the cost of its cars as furnished by it to the Excise Department. For instance, in a statement to the department regarding its 2002-03 prices for cars, Hyundai had quoted the price of the Accent GVS as Rs 3.51 lakh. But the car’s price was lower by about a lakh, in an application to the Excise Department (No MC-00200029/02-03, dated September 12, 2002), related to exports to group company Hyundai Motor Algerie in Algeria.
In December that year, Wilson wrote again to his immediate boss about the violations, and suggested that an investigation be ordered. It was more than a year before he received a reply,dated February 7, 2006, in which the officer quoted the commissioner’s observation on the matter. “What is the issue from the Central Excise angle? If there is no Central Excise angle, why in the first place an investigation was commenced by the division/range?”
AFTER HIS seniors didn’t support him, Wilson shot off letters to the Prime Minister, the Union Finance Minister and the Chairman of the Central Board of Excise and Customs (CBEC). In a letter on July 29, 2006, he apprised them of the issues in contention and pleaded for “appropriate action”. Two months later, he received a reply from Rahul Nangare, an Under Secretary in the CBEC, asking him to meet the Chief Commisioner, Central Excise, Chennai. But when Wilson met him, he was allegedly informed that the CBEC had already decided there was nothing in the issues he had raised. Wilson then approached the Central Public Information Officer under the Right to Information Act, and requested information regarding the action taken on his report to the Prime Minister and its present status. If the file was closed, he wanted to know the basis on which it had been done and the details of the order, along with the file notings.
The response he got was shocking. In a letter dated February 26, 2007, an official, Kamal Dayani, noted that Wilson’s petition “could not be acted upon as it got mixed up with other papers and could not be readily located”. He was advised to contact the Revenue Department on the matter. After a series of letters, Sushil Solanki, Commissioner, CBEC, New Delhi, wrote that Wilson’s representation did not stand the scrutiny of law. Added to this was the observation of Jayendranath, Chief Commissioner, Central Excise, Chennai, who said that the “price variation between domestic clearances and exports is due to several duty concessions that accrue (to Hyundai) while exporting cars. Further, it is the prevalent practice adopted by most manufacturers-exporters to price their export at a competitive price, which is less than the domestic price.”
Wilson told TEHELKA, “It is a clever way of sidetracking the issue. I have always stated that the issue in contention relates to Hyundai’s export to parent and associate companies at below-production price, which is illegal. If it had exported cars to other parties at lower prices, it wouldn’t have been illegal.” Having ruffled too many feathers in the department, Wilson is now banking on legal and moral support from Fifth Pillar. According to activist lawyer Su Srivinvasan, who is appearing in the case on Fifth Pillar’s behalf, the case is due for hearing any day now, but none of the respondents had filed their counter affidavits even two months after notices were issued to them.
Jayendranath was not available when TEHELKA contacted his office. His secretary said DP Naidu, Additional Commissioner, Large Tax Payers Unit, was the officer dealing with Hyundai and directed Wilson to contact him. When contacted, Naidu refused to comment, saying the matter was in court. Hyundai Deputy General Manager (Corporate Communication), Rajiv Mitra, told TEHELKA: “The matter was investigated by the Commissioner of Excise and Customs and also by the Revenue Department. All allegations were found to be baseless. We consider these to be reliable and impartial authorities, and hence we do not feel that there is further need to comment on the matter.”
WRITER’S EMAIL
vinoj@tehelka.com
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 38, Dated Sept 27, 2008
Karunanidhi’s Nandigram
Fearing displacement of about 20,000 people across 10 panchayats, villagers unite in two districts of Tamil Nadu against a Tata group project
PC Vinoj Kumar
Tuticorin/Tirunelveli
Another Nandigram is in the making in Tamil Nadu. In spite of vociferous protests against the Tata’s titanium dioxide plant to be situated at Sathankulam in Tuticorin district, the ruling party appears to be in favour of it. The mining area of the proposed project spreads across Tuticorin and Tirunelveli districts.
This impression has gained ground notwithstanding Chief Minister M. Karunanidhi’s assurance that the final decision on the project would be taken only after consulting the affected people. But before the beginning of the consultation, it is alleged that DMK leaders are coercing presidents of the affected panchayats to support the project. Minister of State for Home Radhika Selvi is alleged to have met some of them in this regard.
Former Arasur panchayat president M. Jeyapandian — whose wife is the current president — said Selvi once visited his house late at night to discuss the project. “The minister said all other panchayat presidents had agreed to the project and I was the only one opposing it,” he told TEHELKA. He is determined to oppose the project, and contrary to the minister’s claim, he enjoys the support of other presidents as well. On August 3, eight of them along with the Sathankulam union chairman and 11 union councillors gave a representation to the Tuticorin district collector opposing the project.
On June 28, the Tatas signed a memorandum of understanding (mou) with the state government for establishing the Rs 2,500-crore titanium dioxide project. The previous Jayalalithaa government had dropped the project due to people’s opposition. In a statement, Jayalalithaa said the project was dropped after it was found that it would affect the livelihood of people and pollute the environment.
Documents available with TEHELKA say top officials of Tirunelveli, Kanyakumari and Tuticorin districts, during the previous regime, had given their opinion against the project. TEHELKA also has a copy of the Tuticorin district collector’s letter to a senior industries official in which he warned of serious law and order problem if the land is acquired. Even the Tamil Nadu Pollution Control Board (tnpcb) had opposed it. tnpcb Member Secretary Dr T. Sekar, in a letter dated January 17, 2006 to the Tirunelveli collector, said “The mining proposed by the Tata Iron and Steel Company Limited…for a depth of 6 metres will affect trees, vegetation cover and permanent features of the area.” Sources said the company had applied for permission to mine at depths from 6.9 m to 8.3 m.
There is also a hitch in acquiring the patta land for the project. It is pointed out that there is no provision in the Mines and Minerals Act-1957, the Mineral Concession Rules-1960 and the Land Acquisition Act-1894 for acquiring mineral-bearing patta lands. The project requires a whopping 16,000 acres of land — about 70 sq km — spread over nearly 10 panchayats. According to estimates, it would displace nearly 20,000 people.
In a 10-page letter dated September 26, 2006 to the director, department of geology and mining, the Tuticorin district collector listed out a number of negative impacts of the project and recalled the earlier findings that the project would adversely affect the livelihood of farmers. “It’s not fair on the part of the government to acquire our land. We will oppose the move. We are prepared to face any consequence,” said AVK Balasubramaniam, a farmer at Vijayaramapuram in Thatchamozhi village. He scoffed at the promise of employment to the locals. “What employment did they provide to the people of Koodankulam who gave their land for the atomic power plant? Should we sell our land and work as labourers in the Tata company?” he asked.
V. Gurusamy of the Arasur village adds, “They say the Tata project would give jobs to thousand people. But agriculture can produce more jobs.” The villagers have formed ‘land protection committees’ to safeguard their interests.
The region is generally dry and arid but the area earmarked for the project is quite green. There are several coconut, mango and palmyra groves. “Drumstick produced here is exported to the Arab countries,” said PP Sakthivel, a farmer in Poovudayarpuram. “If the government wants to acquire our land, Tamil Nadu will witness another Nandigram,” he said.
Many DMK members in Prakasapuram area are also opposing the project. K. Rajapandian, organiser of the DMK’s farmers’ wing, is upset over the developments. “Three-fourth of the land which is to be acquired is under cultivation,” he said.
According to the Tatas, the potential of farming in the area is limited due to the non-availability of water and the sandy nature of the soil. The company claims that only less than 5 percent of the land required for the project is wetland. S. Asokan, executive in-charge, Tata’s titanium project, said: “We believe that, by consultation, we will be able to win the support of the people. We have clearly said that the land will be acquired based on the price arrived at mutually by the government and the landowners in consultation with us.”
Few favour the project, and they do not own any land there. K. Senthil of Pudukapathu, a labourer, said he welcomes the project as it would generate more employment. But prominent political parties including the AIADMK, MDMK, CPI and PMK are opposed to the project. Since the Nadars are the dominant community in the region, various Nadar outfits have pledged their support to the stir.
The government has constituted a committee comprising Mines & Minerals Minister K. Ponmudy, Tourism Minister Suresh Rajan, Animal Husbandry Minister Geetha Jeevan and three officials — the revenue secretary, the industries secretary and the minerals commissioner — to study the situation. But on August 1, Selvi and two DMK MLAs took out a procession in support of the project in Tirunelveli. Speaking to TEHELKA, Selvi said: “All the industries were set up in the northern districts. So, there was no development in the southern part. A project like this would change the scenario.”
Writer’s e-mail: vinoj@tehelka.com
Aug 18, 2007
PC Vinoj Kumar
Tuticorin/Tirunelveli
Another Nandigram is in the making in Tamil Nadu. In spite of vociferous protests against the Tata’s titanium dioxide plant to be situated at Sathankulam in Tuticorin district, the ruling party appears to be in favour of it. The mining area of the proposed project spreads across Tuticorin and Tirunelveli districts.
This impression has gained ground notwithstanding Chief Minister M. Karunanidhi’s assurance that the final decision on the project would be taken only after consulting the affected people. But before the beginning of the consultation, it is alleged that DMK leaders are coercing presidents of the affected panchayats to support the project. Minister of State for Home Radhika Selvi is alleged to have met some of them in this regard.
Former Arasur panchayat president M. Jeyapandian — whose wife is the current president — said Selvi once visited his house late at night to discuss the project. “The minister said all other panchayat presidents had agreed to the project and I was the only one opposing it,” he told TEHELKA. He is determined to oppose the project, and contrary to the minister’s claim, he enjoys the support of other presidents as well. On August 3, eight of them along with the Sathankulam union chairman and 11 union councillors gave a representation to the Tuticorin district collector opposing the project.
On June 28, the Tatas signed a memorandum of understanding (mou) with the state government for establishing the Rs 2,500-crore titanium dioxide project. The previous Jayalalithaa government had dropped the project due to people’s opposition. In a statement, Jayalalithaa said the project was dropped after it was found that it would affect the livelihood of people and pollute the environment.
Documents available with TEHELKA say top officials of Tirunelveli, Kanyakumari and Tuticorin districts, during the previous regime, had given their opinion against the project. TEHELKA also has a copy of the Tuticorin district collector’s letter to a senior industries official in which he warned of serious law and order problem if the land is acquired. Even the Tamil Nadu Pollution Control Board (tnpcb) had opposed it. tnpcb Member Secretary Dr T. Sekar, in a letter dated January 17, 2006 to the Tirunelveli collector, said “The mining proposed by the Tata Iron and Steel Company Limited…for a depth of 6 metres will affect trees, vegetation cover and permanent features of the area.” Sources said the company had applied for permission to mine at depths from 6.9 m to 8.3 m.
There is also a hitch in acquiring the patta land for the project. It is pointed out that there is no provision in the Mines and Minerals Act-1957, the Mineral Concession Rules-1960 and the Land Acquisition Act-1894 for acquiring mineral-bearing patta lands. The project requires a whopping 16,000 acres of land — about 70 sq km — spread over nearly 10 panchayats. According to estimates, it would displace nearly 20,000 people.
In a 10-page letter dated September 26, 2006 to the director, department of geology and mining, the Tuticorin district collector listed out a number of negative impacts of the project and recalled the earlier findings that the project would adversely affect the livelihood of farmers. “It’s not fair on the part of the government to acquire our land. We will oppose the move. We are prepared to face any consequence,” said AVK Balasubramaniam, a farmer at Vijayaramapuram in Thatchamozhi village. He scoffed at the promise of employment to the locals. “What employment did they provide to the people of Koodankulam who gave their land for the atomic power plant? Should we sell our land and work as labourers in the Tata company?” he asked.
V. Gurusamy of the Arasur village adds, “They say the Tata project would give jobs to thousand people. But agriculture can produce more jobs.” The villagers have formed ‘land protection committees’ to safeguard their interests.
The region is generally dry and arid but the area earmarked for the project is quite green. There are several coconut, mango and palmyra groves. “Drumstick produced here is exported to the Arab countries,” said PP Sakthivel, a farmer in Poovudayarpuram. “If the government wants to acquire our land, Tamil Nadu will witness another Nandigram,” he said.
Many DMK members in Prakasapuram area are also opposing the project. K. Rajapandian, organiser of the DMK’s farmers’ wing, is upset over the developments. “Three-fourth of the land which is to be acquired is under cultivation,” he said.
According to the Tatas, the potential of farming in the area is limited due to the non-availability of water and the sandy nature of the soil. The company claims that only less than 5 percent of the land required for the project is wetland. S. Asokan, executive in-charge, Tata’s titanium project, said: “We believe that, by consultation, we will be able to win the support of the people. We have clearly said that the land will be acquired based on the price arrived at mutually by the government and the landowners in consultation with us.”
Few favour the project, and they do not own any land there. K. Senthil of Pudukapathu, a labourer, said he welcomes the project as it would generate more employment. But prominent political parties including the AIADMK, MDMK, CPI and PMK are opposed to the project. Since the Nadars are the dominant community in the region, various Nadar outfits have pledged their support to the stir.
The government has constituted a committee comprising Mines & Minerals Minister K. Ponmudy, Tourism Minister Suresh Rajan, Animal Husbandry Minister Geetha Jeevan and three officials — the revenue secretary, the industries secretary and the minerals commissioner — to study the situation. But on August 1, Selvi and two DMK MLAs took out a procession in support of the project in Tirunelveli. Speaking to TEHELKA, Selvi said: “All the industries were set up in the northern districts. So, there was no development in the southern part. A project like this would change the scenario.”
Writer’s e-mail: vinoj@tehelka.com
Aug 18, 2007
Two Degrees And One Clean Chit
Two senior IPS officers probing corruption charges against former CM J. Jayalalithaa were given engineering seats for their children in Chennai’s Anna University
PC VINOJ KUMAR
Chennai
Photo: Sanjay
IF THERE was an example needed of education being a political tool, it can be found in Chennai’s premier Anna University. Two senior IPS officers probing graft charges against former Chief Minister J. Jayalalithaa obtained seats for their children in the varsity’s engineering course in what protestors describe as a ‘quid pro quo arrangement’. The admissions were secured through a controversial government quota (GQ) under the Jayalalithaa regime. The officers’ children did not have the requisite marks for admission, but were accommodated in the GQ. The quota was scrapped last year by the Madras High Court following a public interest litigation.
A group of activists comprising academics, advocates and civil society groups have come under the banner of the Movement for Education Advancement (MEAD) to demand CBI inquiry into alleged irregularities in admissions under the GQ between 1999 and 2006. They also want the scrapping of the 5-percent Industrial Quota (IQ, see box), in which seats are reserved for industrial groups that have funded the university, and a separate probe against the two police officers, Narinderpal Singh and K. Radhakrishnan.
Singh is currently serving as the Additional Director General of Police, Crime, and Radhakrishnan as the Inspector General of Police, North Zone. Both had served as IGS in the Directorate of Vigilance and Anti-corruption (DVAC) during the previous AIADMK regime. At the time their children were granted admission, the DVAC was investigating disproportionate assets cases against Jayalalithaa and some of her senior party members. Praba Kalvimani, a retired professor who is taking an active part in the campaign, says the two officers were in charge of separate special investigation cells in the DVAC. One dealt with cases against Jayalalithaa and the other handled the remaining cases. When the AIADMK returned to power in 2001, the cases were in various stages of investigation and trial. Kalvimani says Radhakrishnan favoured Jayalalithaa in the two cases of disproportionate assets against her. In one case, a final opportunity notice was served on Jayalalithaa in December 2001 to explain the sources of her income. “Jayalalithaa didn’t reply to the notice within the stipulated 30 days. She replied two years later when Radhakrishnan took charge. It was he who forwarded the file favouring Jayalalithaa,” says Kalvimani. In the other case, Radhakrishnan allegedly failed to file a reply through the public prosecutor when Jayalalithaa approached the Small Causes Court in Chennai for vacating the attachment order against some of her properties.
Narinderpal Singh is alleged to have recommended dropping of action against two former AIADMK ministers, KA Sengottaian and B. Valarmathi, against whom disproportionate assets cases were pending. Activists say it was in return for these favours that the children of Radhakrishnan and Singh were allotted seats in Guindy, the varsity’s college of engineering. In 2004, Singh’s daughter Gurbani was allottedcomputer science course on a score of 229.44 out of 300 in the entrance exam. The cut-offs for other categories that year were much higher: 290.52 for open competition, 288.38 for Backward Classes, 279.98 for Most Backward Classes, 265.35 for Scheduled Castes and 244.11 for Scheduled Tribes. In 2005, Radhakrishnan’s son R. Sandheep secured a seat in the electronics and communication course on a similarly below-par score of 188.31 out of 300.
ACTIVISTS SAY they obtained information regarding the admission details of the officers’ children from Anna University under the Right to Information (RTI) Act. T. Sekar, the applicant, says he has been receiving threats from unidentified persons. Says Kalvimani, “Anna University tried its best to conceal the information and kept raising silly queries. At one stage, the applicant received a
letter from the Public Information Officer of the university requesting the applicant to appear in person. Sekar wrote to him that it wasn’t necessary under the RTI Act.”
The activists then sought the help of the Yahoo Group ‘Hum Janenge’, run by RTI activists. Members of the forum sent several applications to Anna University from all over India seeking the same information. The university provided partial information in June 2007, and came out with the rest in October following appeals to the Information Commission. Demanding a CBI inquiry against the two officers, the MEAD staged a demonstration in Chennai on January 31 in which Dalit leader Thol Thirumavalavan participated.
When contacted, Narinderpal Singh said he had not done anything unlawful. “I submitted a request to the office of the chief minister seeking a seat about two months before I was posted to the DVAC.” He also denied he had shown any favouritism, saying, “I had no independent powers to take a decision on any case.” Radhakrishnan, a two-time recipient of the prestigious Queen’s Award in the UK — in 2002 and 2004 – similarly denied the allegations. “People are jealous of me and want to spoil my name. If there is any truth in the allegations, let the government take action,” he said. The government is tight-lipped on the issue. Vigilance Commissioner KS Sripathy said, “The matter is under investigation. I cannot divulge any further information.”
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 6, Dated Feb 16, 2008
CAPITAL FOR QUOTAS
Protestors want the pro-rich Industrial Quota in the Anna University scrapped
Activists say the now scrapped 2 percent government quota (GQ) in Anna University may have been a multicrore rupees scam. Anna University’s Vice Chancellor D. Viswanathan told Tehelka that the GQ was increased from six seats to 2 percent of the sanctioned
intake in August 1999. The only criteria for admission under this quota were that the candidates should have passed the higher secondary school exam and should have appeared in the Tamil Nadu Professional Courses Entrance Exam. The marks obtained in the exam would be irrelevant. Around
347 students were admitted under the GQ between 2001 and 2006. Activists say each seat fetched a market value between Rs 15-25 lakh. But while the GQ has been scrapped, the Industrial Quota (IQ) remains in vogue. A few industrial groups, which made a one-time payment to the University, are entitled to a fixed number of seats every year for anywhere between Rs 12-15 lakh. A total of 58 students were admitted under this quota in 2007-08. The University says the IQ helps it raise deficit funds. In 2005-06, it received Rs 1.5 crore from such fees. The MEAD has demanded the IQ’s scrapping. “The government spends Rs 750 crore on the free colour television scheme every year. Can’t it find the money to run the Anna University instead of begging before the industrialists?” asks Kalvimani. It remains to
be seen how the Karunanidhi government responds to this new campaign.
PC VINOJ KUMAR
Chennai
Photo: Sanjay
IF THERE was an example needed of education being a political tool, it can be found in Chennai’s premier Anna University. Two senior IPS officers probing graft charges against former Chief Minister J. Jayalalithaa obtained seats for their children in the varsity’s engineering course in what protestors describe as a ‘quid pro quo arrangement’. The admissions were secured through a controversial government quota (GQ) under the Jayalalithaa regime. The officers’ children did not have the requisite marks for admission, but were accommodated in the GQ. The quota was scrapped last year by the Madras High Court following a public interest litigation.
A group of activists comprising academics, advocates and civil society groups have come under the banner of the Movement for Education Advancement (MEAD) to demand CBI inquiry into alleged irregularities in admissions under the GQ between 1999 and 2006. They also want the scrapping of the 5-percent Industrial Quota (IQ, see box), in which seats are reserved for industrial groups that have funded the university, and a separate probe against the two police officers, Narinderpal Singh and K. Radhakrishnan.
Singh is currently serving as the Additional Director General of Police, Crime, and Radhakrishnan as the Inspector General of Police, North Zone. Both had served as IGS in the Directorate of Vigilance and Anti-corruption (DVAC) during the previous AIADMK regime. At the time their children were granted admission, the DVAC was investigating disproportionate assets cases against Jayalalithaa and some of her senior party members. Praba Kalvimani, a retired professor who is taking an active part in the campaign, says the two officers were in charge of separate special investigation cells in the DVAC. One dealt with cases against Jayalalithaa and the other handled the remaining cases. When the AIADMK returned to power in 2001, the cases were in various stages of investigation and trial. Kalvimani says Radhakrishnan favoured Jayalalithaa in the two cases of disproportionate assets against her. In one case, a final opportunity notice was served on Jayalalithaa in December 2001 to explain the sources of her income. “Jayalalithaa didn’t reply to the notice within the stipulated 30 days. She replied two years later when Radhakrishnan took charge. It was he who forwarded the file favouring Jayalalithaa,” says Kalvimani. In the other case, Radhakrishnan allegedly failed to file a reply through the public prosecutor when Jayalalithaa approached the Small Causes Court in Chennai for vacating the attachment order against some of her properties.
Narinderpal Singh is alleged to have recommended dropping of action against two former AIADMK ministers, KA Sengottaian and B. Valarmathi, against whom disproportionate assets cases were pending. Activists say it was in return for these favours that the children of Radhakrishnan and Singh were allotted seats in Guindy, the varsity’s college of engineering. In 2004, Singh’s daughter Gurbani was allottedcomputer science course on a score of 229.44 out of 300 in the entrance exam. The cut-offs for other categories that year were much higher: 290.52 for open competition, 288.38 for Backward Classes, 279.98 for Most Backward Classes, 265.35 for Scheduled Castes and 244.11 for Scheduled Tribes. In 2005, Radhakrishnan’s son R. Sandheep secured a seat in the electronics and communication course on a similarly below-par score of 188.31 out of 300.
ACTIVISTS SAY they obtained information regarding the admission details of the officers’ children from Anna University under the Right to Information (RTI) Act. T. Sekar, the applicant, says he has been receiving threats from unidentified persons. Says Kalvimani, “Anna University tried its best to conceal the information and kept raising silly queries. At one stage, the applicant received a
letter from the Public Information Officer of the university requesting the applicant to appear in person. Sekar wrote to him that it wasn’t necessary under the RTI Act.”
The activists then sought the help of the Yahoo Group ‘Hum Janenge’, run by RTI activists. Members of the forum sent several applications to Anna University from all over India seeking the same information. The university provided partial information in June 2007, and came out with the rest in October following appeals to the Information Commission. Demanding a CBI inquiry against the two officers, the MEAD staged a demonstration in Chennai on January 31 in which Dalit leader Thol Thirumavalavan participated.
When contacted, Narinderpal Singh said he had not done anything unlawful. “I submitted a request to the office of the chief minister seeking a seat about two months before I was posted to the DVAC.” He also denied he had shown any favouritism, saying, “I had no independent powers to take a decision on any case.” Radhakrishnan, a two-time recipient of the prestigious Queen’s Award in the UK — in 2002 and 2004 – similarly denied the allegations. “People are jealous of me and want to spoil my name. If there is any truth in the allegations, let the government take action,” he said. The government is tight-lipped on the issue. Vigilance Commissioner KS Sripathy said, “The matter is under investigation. I cannot divulge any further information.”
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 6, Dated Feb 16, 2008
CAPITAL FOR QUOTAS
Protestors want the pro-rich Industrial Quota in the Anna University scrapped
Activists say the now scrapped 2 percent government quota (GQ) in Anna University may have been a multicrore rupees scam. Anna University’s Vice Chancellor D. Viswanathan told Tehelka that the GQ was increased from six seats to 2 percent of the sanctioned
intake in August 1999. The only criteria for admission under this quota were that the candidates should have passed the higher secondary school exam and should have appeared in the Tamil Nadu Professional Courses Entrance Exam. The marks obtained in the exam would be irrelevant. Around
347 students were admitted under the GQ between 2001 and 2006. Activists say each seat fetched a market value between Rs 15-25 lakh. But while the GQ has been scrapped, the Industrial Quota (IQ) remains in vogue. A few industrial groups, which made a one-time payment to the University, are entitled to a fixed number of seats every year for anywhere between Rs 12-15 lakh. A total of 58 students were admitted under this quota in 2007-08. The University says the IQ helps it raise deficit funds. In 2005-06, it received Rs 1.5 crore from such fees. The MEAD has demanded the IQ’s scrapping. “The government spends Rs 750 crore on the free colour television scheme every year. Can’t it find the money to run the Anna University instead of begging before the industrialists?” asks Kalvimani. It remains to
be seen how the Karunanidhi government responds to this new campaign.
The End Of A Dream?
Auroville was created as a ‘universal city’ free of discord, but is riven by allegations of paedophelia, dubious land purchases, and racism, discovers PC VINOJ KUMAR
THERE SHOULD be somewhere on earth a place where no nation could claim as its own… a place of peace, concord and harmony… In this ideal place money would no longer be the sovereign lord; individual worth would have a far greater importance than that of material wealth and social standing.”
Such was the dream of Mirra Alfassa, Sri Aurobindo’s spiritual partner and successor, known to her followers as The Mother. In 1968, five years before her death, the dream led to the establishment of Auroville, a “universal town” as it calls itself, currently home to around 2,000 residents from 40 countries. Located 8 km from Puducherry, Auroville is run on government and UNESCO grants and the proceeds of its commercial projects. Best known today as an offbeat tourist attraction, deep rifts with the local community have, however, seen serious charges levelled against the community, ranging from allegations of certain residents sexually abusing children from nearby villages to claims of extortionate land acquisition. Local resentment has now burgeoned into an active campaign to have the town shut down, with some opponents even decrying it as a threat to national security.
Auroville started out as part of the Puduchery- based Sri Aurobindo Society, under Mirra Alfassa’s direct control. Following her death in 1973, divisions between residents and the Society resulted in almost two decades of wrangling over the town’s administration. Ultimately, in 1991, the Auroville Foundation (AF) was established by Parliament.
Not all who live in Auroville agree that this has worked. Some are frustrated and feel that the community’s original ideals and freedoms are fading. The AF is optimistic, though, and its Master Plan predicts Auroville’s population will reach 50,000 by 2025. In its design, however, the plan included several acres of yet-to-beacquired land belonging to nearby villages. While expansion of the 20 km campus has been sluggish, current AF secretary M. Ramaswamy, a senior IAS officer, has made land acquisition a priority, and, by January 2007, as reported then in community bulletin Auroville Today, purchased around nine acres for the town. This more than tripled in the following year, with the creation of the Auroville Land Fund, whose April-June newsletter states that 31.97 acres had been bought during 2007-08.
Villagers, however, allege that not all these purchases have been conducted on an entirely principled basis, and accuse the AF of using strong-arm tactics. S. Mathialagan of Edayanchavadi village says he ran foul of the AF after he refused to sell his land and accuses Ramaswamy of behaving like a property broker. “Ramaswamy uses the police to intimidate villagers who don’t want to sell,” Mathialagan told TEHELKA. “When I turned them down, they lodged a complaint against me and I was taken to the police station. I was only freed after the villagers protested.” Villupuram SP A Amal Raj, however, denied any villager had lodged any complaint on the issue.
Villagers are also unhappy with Auroville’s attempts to regulate land transactions in the area. In 2002, the late LM Singhvi, then an MP and a member of the AF governing board, wrote to the then chief minister of Tamil Nadu, J. Jayalalithaa, proposing an order that would bar land development or sale of areas that fell within the Auroville Master Plan, unless under AF approval. The order did not come through, but Ramaswamy is said to be pursuing the matter.
While a land tussle could be said to be a purely local issue, far more serious are the charges of abuse. M. Kandavel, who leads a ‘Ban Auroville’ movement, alleges the place has become a haven for paedophiles. To back his claim, he quotes an August 2001 issue of Auroville News, in which a resident writes: “How many of us know, that there are Aurovillians who have sexually abused their maids, that Aurovilians have sexually abused village children; that Aurovilians have funded political gangs and allegedly incited violence in the villages?”
The child abuse charges got additional attention following a BBC report in May, which, while acknowledging Auroville’s endeavours in education and reforestation, reported the community authorities as admitting that it “did in the mid-90s include a convicted paedophile”. Talking to TEHELKA, Auroville Working Committee member Carel Thieme placed the number of Aurovillians asked to leave because of suspected involvement in paedophilia at three.
As Aurovillians themselves ruefully admit, not all who come here in pursuit of the ‘ideal’ life are themselves ideal. Residents and visitors have been known to overstep the bounds of decency, as evidence of which Kandavel cites a 2002 incident involving the wife of Tathagata Satpathy, a Biju Janata Dal MP from Orissa’s Dhenkanal constituency. When contacted, Satpathy, a devotee of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother, told TEHELKA he had planned to spend New Year’s Eve in Auroville but was repulsed by the atmosphere. “I had gone there hoping for a spiritual experience. What I encountered was the opposite. People were drunk. Many were high on drugs. My wife wanted us to leave, but as we were doing so, some foreigners misbehaved with us.”
Adding to local animus are the state benefits Auroville receives, including a fairly sizeable grant, with Rs 5 crore allotted for 2008-09. Its commercial units also enjoy tax exemptions. The Chief Income Tax Commissioner has reportedly argued for having these enterprises taxed, but Auroville has managed to retain the exemption. The arrangement requires owners of commercial units to pay 33 percent of their profits to the AF while keeping the rest. AF members, however, claim that these profits ultimately return to the community.
All Aurovillians work in one or the other of the town’s commercial units or in its administration offices. A maintenance stipend is available, though not all Aurovillians avail of it, particularly Westerners. Of those who do live on the stipend, some maintain that the stipend of Rs 5,000 to Rs 8,000 is insufficient. “The cost of living is quite high in Auroville,” rues resident Ramachandra Mohanta. Other Indian Aurovillians echoed his views, saying life here is difficult if one does not have sound financial backing. AF member Sanjeev, however, points out that residents and their families get several facilities free, such as education and healthcare. When asked about the economic disparities among Aurovillians, he wryly remarked, “Auroville is not an egalitarian society.” The realisation of the equality the Mother envisioned is still some way off.
WHEN TEHELKA visited Auroville, this reporter stayed four days in ‘Aspiration’, one of the community’s oldest settlements, and also one of its poorer ones. Members share food expenses and have a common kitchen and dining hall. Though it is claimed that Auroville fosters human unity, complaints of racial discrimination persist and rarely did we see people of different nationalities interact.
Critics also disapprove of Auroville’s financial handling, which, in keeping with the way the rest of the community runs, is relatively unstructured. The Auroville internal audit of 2004-05 practically concedes this — while bringing no charges of funds mishandled, it made reference to several irregularities and systemic deficiencies in financial management. “There is no centralised accounting of income reflecting the totality of income and expenditure,” it said. “There is no overall budget for Auroville. The Foundation has no system to ensure that all money received through various channels is properly accounted for and utilised.”
Aurovillians will tell you their community is a “living human laboratory” and should be looked at with sympathy, not critically or analytically. However, while local antagonism toward the town and the resultant criticism of its practices and philosophy does not abate, it is perhaps time Auroville took heed and looked to ways of reaching greater accord. •
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 37, Dated Sept 20, 2008
THERE SHOULD be somewhere on earth a place where no nation could claim as its own… a place of peace, concord and harmony… In this ideal place money would no longer be the sovereign lord; individual worth would have a far greater importance than that of material wealth and social standing.”
Such was the dream of Mirra Alfassa, Sri Aurobindo’s spiritual partner and successor, known to her followers as The Mother. In 1968, five years before her death, the dream led to the establishment of Auroville, a “universal town” as it calls itself, currently home to around 2,000 residents from 40 countries. Located 8 km from Puducherry, Auroville is run on government and UNESCO grants and the proceeds of its commercial projects. Best known today as an offbeat tourist attraction, deep rifts with the local community have, however, seen serious charges levelled against the community, ranging from allegations of certain residents sexually abusing children from nearby villages to claims of extortionate land acquisition. Local resentment has now burgeoned into an active campaign to have the town shut down, with some opponents even decrying it as a threat to national security.
Auroville started out as part of the Puduchery- based Sri Aurobindo Society, under Mirra Alfassa’s direct control. Following her death in 1973, divisions between residents and the Society resulted in almost two decades of wrangling over the town’s administration. Ultimately, in 1991, the Auroville Foundation (AF) was established by Parliament.
Not all who live in Auroville agree that this has worked. Some are frustrated and feel that the community’s original ideals and freedoms are fading. The AF is optimistic, though, and its Master Plan predicts Auroville’s population will reach 50,000 by 2025. In its design, however, the plan included several acres of yet-to-beacquired land belonging to nearby villages. While expansion of the 20 km campus has been sluggish, current AF secretary M. Ramaswamy, a senior IAS officer, has made land acquisition a priority, and, by January 2007, as reported then in community bulletin Auroville Today, purchased around nine acres for the town. This more than tripled in the following year, with the creation of the Auroville Land Fund, whose April-June newsletter states that 31.97 acres had been bought during 2007-08.
Villagers, however, allege that not all these purchases have been conducted on an entirely principled basis, and accuse the AF of using strong-arm tactics. S. Mathialagan of Edayanchavadi village says he ran foul of the AF after he refused to sell his land and accuses Ramaswamy of behaving like a property broker. “Ramaswamy uses the police to intimidate villagers who don’t want to sell,” Mathialagan told TEHELKA. “When I turned them down, they lodged a complaint against me and I was taken to the police station. I was only freed after the villagers protested.” Villupuram SP A Amal Raj, however, denied any villager had lodged any complaint on the issue.
Villagers are also unhappy with Auroville’s attempts to regulate land transactions in the area. In 2002, the late LM Singhvi, then an MP and a member of the AF governing board, wrote to the then chief minister of Tamil Nadu, J. Jayalalithaa, proposing an order that would bar land development or sale of areas that fell within the Auroville Master Plan, unless under AF approval. The order did not come through, but Ramaswamy is said to be pursuing the matter.
While a land tussle could be said to be a purely local issue, far more serious are the charges of abuse. M. Kandavel, who leads a ‘Ban Auroville’ movement, alleges the place has become a haven for paedophiles. To back his claim, he quotes an August 2001 issue of Auroville News, in which a resident writes: “How many of us know, that there are Aurovillians who have sexually abused their maids, that Aurovilians have sexually abused village children; that Aurovilians have funded political gangs and allegedly incited violence in the villages?”
The child abuse charges got additional attention following a BBC report in May, which, while acknowledging Auroville’s endeavours in education and reforestation, reported the community authorities as admitting that it “did in the mid-90s include a convicted paedophile”. Talking to TEHELKA, Auroville Working Committee member Carel Thieme placed the number of Aurovillians asked to leave because of suspected involvement in paedophilia at three.
As Aurovillians themselves ruefully admit, not all who come here in pursuit of the ‘ideal’ life are themselves ideal. Residents and visitors have been known to overstep the bounds of decency, as evidence of which Kandavel cites a 2002 incident involving the wife of Tathagata Satpathy, a Biju Janata Dal MP from Orissa’s Dhenkanal constituency. When contacted, Satpathy, a devotee of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother, told TEHELKA he had planned to spend New Year’s Eve in Auroville but was repulsed by the atmosphere. “I had gone there hoping for a spiritual experience. What I encountered was the opposite. People were drunk. Many were high on drugs. My wife wanted us to leave, but as we were doing so, some foreigners misbehaved with us.”
Adding to local animus are the state benefits Auroville receives, including a fairly sizeable grant, with Rs 5 crore allotted for 2008-09. Its commercial units also enjoy tax exemptions. The Chief Income Tax Commissioner has reportedly argued for having these enterprises taxed, but Auroville has managed to retain the exemption. The arrangement requires owners of commercial units to pay 33 percent of their profits to the AF while keeping the rest. AF members, however, claim that these profits ultimately return to the community.
All Aurovillians work in one or the other of the town’s commercial units or in its administration offices. A maintenance stipend is available, though not all Aurovillians avail of it, particularly Westerners. Of those who do live on the stipend, some maintain that the stipend of Rs 5,000 to Rs 8,000 is insufficient. “The cost of living is quite high in Auroville,” rues resident Ramachandra Mohanta. Other Indian Aurovillians echoed his views, saying life here is difficult if one does not have sound financial backing. AF member Sanjeev, however, points out that residents and their families get several facilities free, such as education and healthcare. When asked about the economic disparities among Aurovillians, he wryly remarked, “Auroville is not an egalitarian society.” The realisation of the equality the Mother envisioned is still some way off.
WHEN TEHELKA visited Auroville, this reporter stayed four days in ‘Aspiration’, one of the community’s oldest settlements, and also one of its poorer ones. Members share food expenses and have a common kitchen and dining hall. Though it is claimed that Auroville fosters human unity, complaints of racial discrimination persist and rarely did we see people of different nationalities interact.
Critics also disapprove of Auroville’s financial handling, which, in keeping with the way the rest of the community runs, is relatively unstructured. The Auroville internal audit of 2004-05 practically concedes this — while bringing no charges of funds mishandled, it made reference to several irregularities and systemic deficiencies in financial management. “There is no centralised accounting of income reflecting the totality of income and expenditure,” it said. “There is no overall budget for Auroville. The Foundation has no system to ensure that all money received through various channels is properly accounted for and utilised.”
Aurovillians will tell you their community is a “living human laboratory” and should be looked at with sympathy, not critically or analytically. However, while local antagonism toward the town and the resultant criticism of its practices and philosophy does not abate, it is perhaps time Auroville took heed and looked to ways of reaching greater accord. •
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 37, Dated Sept 20, 2008
Kollywood Confidential
The Tamil film industry recently clashed with the media over allegations of prostitution. But what’s the truth behind the fracas, asks PC VINOJ KUMAR
THEY CHANGED IN FRONT OF THE PEOPLE, STRIPPED TO THEIR BONES WITH JUST THEIR MEAGRE UNDERWEAR, VALIANTLY TRYING TO PROTECT THEIR MODESTY, CONSTANTLY TRYING TO AVOID THE PROBING HANDS OF COSTUMERS WHO WISHED TO ‘MEASURE’ THEIR BUST SIZE BY RUNNING BOTH ARMS AROUND THEIR BUST LINE. SOME HANDS STAYED PUT AT THE WAISTLINE ON THE PRETEXT THAT THEY WERE MEASURING THE SIZE OF THEIR AMPLE, OVERFLOWING WAIST JUST SO THE GHAGRA WOULD FIT THEM
From Star Dust, by ROOPA SWAMINATHAN (Penguin, 2004) describing a Chennai shooting spot with Kollywood group dancers
A FEW WEEKS ago, the Tamil film industry and the Chennai media locked horns over a report in the Tamil daily Dinamalar. The report claimed that television actress Bhuvaneswari, arrested by the Chennai police’s anti-vice squad on October 2 on charges of running a brothel, had named other actresses as being involved in prostitution. Those named — some of them yesteryear heroines — denied the charge. An incensed film industry cried foul about its image being unduly sullied. Dinamalar’s News Editor B Lenin was arrested under the Tamil Nadu Prohibition of Harassment of Women Act, 1998, for publishing a false report. But the question remains: Is the Tamil film industry really squeaky clean?
At Koyambedu, Chennai’s main terminal for outstation buses, starry-eyed young girls arrive daily from distant small towns and villages with hopes of becoming movie stars. They come from all over Tamil Nadu and from Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka and Kerala. Their destination is 6 km away at Kodambak - kam, the hub of Tamil cinema and also known as Kollywood. This is where popular studios such as AVM and Prasad are located and several actors, directors, and producers reside.
To cinema hopefuls, Kodambakkam is a dreamland that has made superstars of ordinary men and divas of village belles. It is at these studios that one Shivaji Rao, a bus conductor from Bengaluru, arrived in Chennai in the 1970s with a dream of acting in films and was transformed into the superstar Rajnikanth. It is here that former state chief ministers MG Ramachandran and J Jayalalithaa spent most of their early years under the arc lights before entering politics. Their stories are part of the Kodambakkam folklore and add to its mythical aura.
However, the untold, inside story of Kodambakkam is the plight of hundreds of women who failed to get their big break and settled for petty roles as extras – or junior artistes, in Kollywood parlance. Theirs is a wretched life, one that remains forever on the fringes of glamour and luxury. As the camera zooms in on the hero and the heroine, they are the blurred faces in the background – the vegetable vendor with his pushcart or the silent spectator in a fight scene.
TEHELKA spoke to some of these faceless women of the Tamil film industry, who work for meagre daily wages and engage in sex work to supplement their income. The women were glad for some media coverage and happy for its small dignity. They did have one request, though: “Please do not reveal our identities. We would lose our membership in the South Indian Film Artistes’ Association (SIFAA) if it becomes known that we have given interviews.” (All names have been changed to protect identities.) They told TEHELKA that they engaged in sex work since their income from films was too meagre to run their families. Till 2001, their daily wage was as low as Rs 100. “They increased our wages to Rs 150 in 2004. Now we get up to Rs 250-300,” says Rekha, who has been in the field for over a decade.
The women said that most fall into their male colleagues’ ‘sex-trap’ in order to get regular work. “Having to work mostly with male counterparts, we put up with the groping hands of make-up men and costumers. Their hands feel every imaginable part of our body. Freshers need to please them first if they want to get regular work. The only good thing in all this is that there is no free sex in the industry. Even your coworker pays for your service,” says Vani, a senior artiste.
GRADUALLY, MOST women shed their inhibitions and graduate to ‘servicing’ people from outside the cine field. “I have slept with assistant directors and some well-known actors, but nothing has been for fun. It’s always been for the money,” says Vani. All other extras TEHELKA spoke to said the same thing – we have no feelings; sex for us is a source of income.
Film historian Randor Guy says brothels have existed in and around Kodambakkam for ages. “A writer once commented about the Madras film industry back in the 1940s as a collection of pimps, prostitutes and perverts. Many of the juniors involved in the flesh trade come from Andhra Pradesh. At one time, agents used to stand in Chennai Central Railway Station waiting for women coming from Andhra seeking a chance in films,” he says.
THESE AGENTS, the junior artistes say, have snared many an innocent women from poor families into the flesh trade. Police sources acknowledge that several pimps operate in Kodambakkam. Kannada Prasad, a notorious pimp arrested in 2007, wrote his life story from jail for the Tamil magazine Nakkheeran. Revealing his links with powerful people in the state, Prasad claimed he had supplied leading actresses to many bigwigs, including an IPS officer and a political leader. In November 2008, Chennai suburban police arrested another pimp, Sona Lakshmi. “She said she used to deal with actresses many years ago, but claimed she had no contact with the film industry now,” says S Jeyakumar, Assistant Commissioner of Police.
A Chennai sexologist who wished to remain anonymous admits that people from the film and television industry consult him when they need to make difficult choices involving sexual compromises at work, but refuses to elaborate. Actress Revathi says the industry has to strongly address the issue of alleged sexual harassment of junior artistes. “There should be a counselling cell for women to register their complaints,” she says.
SIFAA president Sarath Kumar politely declines comment on the matter. He says, “The matter is subjudice,” pointing to the case filed in the Madras High Court by a journalist association, demanding action against certain actors who used derogatory language against journalists at a SIFAA meeting in the wake of the Dinamalar story. One only hopes this recent fracas compels some soul-searching in Kollywood on how it treats its professional women.
VIJAYA, 35
FIXES HER DATES IN RELIGIOUS CENTRES
IT IS now nearly five years since I entered the industry. My husband’s income was not sufficient for our family and we were struggling to repay our Rs 3 lakh debt, when an agent got me into this field. I regret my decision now. My life has been ruined. My husband died of a heart attack about two years ago. I have one son, for whom I am living in this world.
He was seven years old when I took him with me on my first outdoor assignment in Erode. I was happy because it was a 35-day contract. However, it was there that I had to make my first sexual compromise. The agent told me that the cameraman was interested in having me. I agreed reluctantly because of my family’s condition. I put my son to sleep and went to the cameraman. My life changed from then.
Sex became a source of extra income for me. I gradually developed contacts with people outside the industry. I don’t deal through any broker. Customers call me directly on my mobile and we fix up a place. Nowadays, I go out on an average with two or three clients in a month. We book rooms in religious centres like Tirupati or Tirutani and stay there as couples. I can’t believe that I am the same person who arrived in Chennai as an innocent village girl about seven years ago.
JANAKI,
38 LEARNT THE SORDID RULES OF THE GAME
I got married at 16 and divorced at 26. With two small children to look after, I started working as a housemaid. I became friendly with a cinema agent who said I could become a great star if I entered films. He said I looked pretty even though I was dark. He teased me saying the day was not far when I would be living in a bungalow and travelling in an expensive car like other stars. I fell for his words.
This was around 12 years ago. My first role was as a nurse in a television serial. The agent said I had to first do small roles. He said they would give me bigger roles later on. I trusted him. I was paid Rs 75 a day. I was initially shy when the make -up man used to put his hands inside my blouse and apply make-up over my breasts. But I learned quickly that one can’t make a fuss about these things in this field.
A week after I joined the unit, the agent informed me that the director was interested in meeting me. He advised me to adjust with him and do whatever he asked. He said he’d offer me a better role if I slept with him. I did. It continued for days, but no big role came. I was taken for a ride.
There was no looking back after that incident. I have learned the rules of the game. Extras like me can’t aspire for plum roles. I have no complaints against anyone, because I do what I do out of my own choice. I have slept with a few film directors, some of whom have a taste for women like me. They like us because we will do whatever they want of us.
I have never felt thrilled having sex with anyone in the industry. One famous director paid me Rs 2,000 for having sex with him. That was the highest amount anyone from the industry has paid me. The make-up men or costumers do not pay more than Rs 1,000. I started drinking only after entering the film industry. One good thing is that everyone prefers safe sex these days and uses condom without fail.
MALATHI, 36
‘ADJUSTED’ TO THE INDUSTRY ROUTINE OF SEX
I ENTERED the cine field about four years ago, after my husband’s untimely death. He was a lorry driver. He died due to excessive drinking. I was 32 when I lost my husband. My two children were small then. Having lost the sole bread-winner in the family, we were in dire straits. I had to feed the family, pay the house rent and find money for my children’s school fees.
That’s when a junior artiste living near us helped me get a job as an extra in the film industry. I didn’t know about the ‘adjustments’ to survive in the field. Nobody misbehaved with me or forced me into sex. But when I realised my earnings were not enough to run my family, I had to make a choice.
My life changed when a colleague asked me if I would be interested in going to a lodge in Mahabalipuram— a tourist spot about 50 km from Chennai — to entertain some people. She said I can earn some extra income. I agreed to it because I needed money badly for my children’s education.
Since then, sex has become routine. I have no feeling when I have sex. I only think about my children. They are studying in a convent in the city. For me, their future is more important than anything else. It is for their sake I am sleeping with all kinds of men, in all kinds of places. There are days when I return home after staying awake the whole night, dead tired, and my body aching everywhere – I cry silently wondering what kind of life is this. I wish I could sleep at home like any other woman and be a normal homemaker.
I have learned to ‘adjust’ with everyone in the film industry. However, people get bored with you after a while. They start asking you to find younger girls who would be interested in acting. Some women oblige them and bring in new girls. My conscience doesn’t permit me to do that.
My children know I am in the film industry, but they are not aware about the darker side of my life. I wish they never know about it. I am God fearing. I realise what I am doing is wrong. Sometimes I tell myself it would be much better if I get into another profession and earn money the hard way. Even if I earn less I can at least live in peace. But I am not sure if it will ever happen.
MINNI,
58 HELPS ORGANISE A SEX WORKERS COLLECTIVE
I CAME to Chennai from Kerala as a 22-year-old in the 1960s with my four little children after my husband deserted me. Now I am 58. I have worked in the cine field for over 30 years. When I entered the field, the extras were paid Rs 10 as daily wage, which was later increased to Rs 100.
Initially, I did try to make a straight living as an extra. But it didn’t work out. I had to change my policy. I have gone out with more men outside the industry than with those in the field. We get more money from outside customers.
I brought up my children with the money I made as an extra and the additional money I earned as a sex worker. My children are all now well settled. My son is in the Indian Army and two of my daughters are settled abroad. The media forgets that we too are human beings and we too have families. The papers publish photos of women caught in prostitution. It destroys the future of those women.
I am devoting more time for social service these days. We have set up a collective of sex workers from Chennai and few other districts. It is a collective of the sex workers, by the sex workers and for the sex workers. Our main aim is to prevent our children from entering the profession. The programme is working well.
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 6, Issue 44, Dated November 07, 2009
THEY CHANGED IN FRONT OF THE PEOPLE, STRIPPED TO THEIR BONES WITH JUST THEIR MEAGRE UNDERWEAR, VALIANTLY TRYING TO PROTECT THEIR MODESTY, CONSTANTLY TRYING TO AVOID THE PROBING HANDS OF COSTUMERS WHO WISHED TO ‘MEASURE’ THEIR BUST SIZE BY RUNNING BOTH ARMS AROUND THEIR BUST LINE. SOME HANDS STAYED PUT AT THE WAISTLINE ON THE PRETEXT THAT THEY WERE MEASURING THE SIZE OF THEIR AMPLE, OVERFLOWING WAIST JUST SO THE GHAGRA WOULD FIT THEM
From Star Dust, by ROOPA SWAMINATHAN (Penguin, 2004) describing a Chennai shooting spot with Kollywood group dancers
A FEW WEEKS ago, the Tamil film industry and the Chennai media locked horns over a report in the Tamil daily Dinamalar. The report claimed that television actress Bhuvaneswari, arrested by the Chennai police’s anti-vice squad on October 2 on charges of running a brothel, had named other actresses as being involved in prostitution. Those named — some of them yesteryear heroines — denied the charge. An incensed film industry cried foul about its image being unduly sullied. Dinamalar’s News Editor B Lenin was arrested under the Tamil Nadu Prohibition of Harassment of Women Act, 1998, for publishing a false report. But the question remains: Is the Tamil film industry really squeaky clean?
At Koyambedu, Chennai’s main terminal for outstation buses, starry-eyed young girls arrive daily from distant small towns and villages with hopes of becoming movie stars. They come from all over Tamil Nadu and from Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka and Kerala. Their destination is 6 km away at Kodambak - kam, the hub of Tamil cinema and also known as Kollywood. This is where popular studios such as AVM and Prasad are located and several actors, directors, and producers reside.
To cinema hopefuls, Kodambakkam is a dreamland that has made superstars of ordinary men and divas of village belles. It is at these studios that one Shivaji Rao, a bus conductor from Bengaluru, arrived in Chennai in the 1970s with a dream of acting in films and was transformed into the superstar Rajnikanth. It is here that former state chief ministers MG Ramachandran and J Jayalalithaa spent most of their early years under the arc lights before entering politics. Their stories are part of the Kodambakkam folklore and add to its mythical aura.
However, the untold, inside story of Kodambakkam is the plight of hundreds of women who failed to get their big break and settled for petty roles as extras – or junior artistes, in Kollywood parlance. Theirs is a wretched life, one that remains forever on the fringes of glamour and luxury. As the camera zooms in on the hero and the heroine, they are the blurred faces in the background – the vegetable vendor with his pushcart or the silent spectator in a fight scene.
TEHELKA spoke to some of these faceless women of the Tamil film industry, who work for meagre daily wages and engage in sex work to supplement their income. The women were glad for some media coverage and happy for its small dignity. They did have one request, though: “Please do not reveal our identities. We would lose our membership in the South Indian Film Artistes’ Association (SIFAA) if it becomes known that we have given interviews.” (All names have been changed to protect identities.) They told TEHELKA that they engaged in sex work since their income from films was too meagre to run their families. Till 2001, their daily wage was as low as Rs 100. “They increased our wages to Rs 150 in 2004. Now we get up to Rs 250-300,” says Rekha, who has been in the field for over a decade.
The women said that most fall into their male colleagues’ ‘sex-trap’ in order to get regular work. “Having to work mostly with male counterparts, we put up with the groping hands of make-up men and costumers. Their hands feel every imaginable part of our body. Freshers need to please them first if they want to get regular work. The only good thing in all this is that there is no free sex in the industry. Even your coworker pays for your service,” says Vani, a senior artiste.
GRADUALLY, MOST women shed their inhibitions and graduate to ‘servicing’ people from outside the cine field. “I have slept with assistant directors and some well-known actors, but nothing has been for fun. It’s always been for the money,” says Vani. All other extras TEHELKA spoke to said the same thing – we have no feelings; sex for us is a source of income.
Film historian Randor Guy says brothels have existed in and around Kodambakkam for ages. “A writer once commented about the Madras film industry back in the 1940s as a collection of pimps, prostitutes and perverts. Many of the juniors involved in the flesh trade come from Andhra Pradesh. At one time, agents used to stand in Chennai Central Railway Station waiting for women coming from Andhra seeking a chance in films,” he says.
THESE AGENTS, the junior artistes say, have snared many an innocent women from poor families into the flesh trade. Police sources acknowledge that several pimps operate in Kodambakkam. Kannada Prasad, a notorious pimp arrested in 2007, wrote his life story from jail for the Tamil magazine Nakkheeran. Revealing his links with powerful people in the state, Prasad claimed he had supplied leading actresses to many bigwigs, including an IPS officer and a political leader. In November 2008, Chennai suburban police arrested another pimp, Sona Lakshmi. “She said she used to deal with actresses many years ago, but claimed she had no contact with the film industry now,” says S Jeyakumar, Assistant Commissioner of Police.
A Chennai sexologist who wished to remain anonymous admits that people from the film and television industry consult him when they need to make difficult choices involving sexual compromises at work, but refuses to elaborate. Actress Revathi says the industry has to strongly address the issue of alleged sexual harassment of junior artistes. “There should be a counselling cell for women to register their complaints,” she says.
SIFAA president Sarath Kumar politely declines comment on the matter. He says, “The matter is subjudice,” pointing to the case filed in the Madras High Court by a journalist association, demanding action against certain actors who used derogatory language against journalists at a SIFAA meeting in the wake of the Dinamalar story. One only hopes this recent fracas compels some soul-searching in Kollywood on how it treats its professional women.
VIJAYA, 35
FIXES HER DATES IN RELIGIOUS CENTRES
IT IS now nearly five years since I entered the industry. My husband’s income was not sufficient for our family and we were struggling to repay our Rs 3 lakh debt, when an agent got me into this field. I regret my decision now. My life has been ruined. My husband died of a heart attack about two years ago. I have one son, for whom I am living in this world.
He was seven years old when I took him with me on my first outdoor assignment in Erode. I was happy because it was a 35-day contract. However, it was there that I had to make my first sexual compromise. The agent told me that the cameraman was interested in having me. I agreed reluctantly because of my family’s condition. I put my son to sleep and went to the cameraman. My life changed from then.
Sex became a source of extra income for me. I gradually developed contacts with people outside the industry. I don’t deal through any broker. Customers call me directly on my mobile and we fix up a place. Nowadays, I go out on an average with two or three clients in a month. We book rooms in religious centres like Tirupati or Tirutani and stay there as couples. I can’t believe that I am the same person who arrived in Chennai as an innocent village girl about seven years ago.
JANAKI,
38 LEARNT THE SORDID RULES OF THE GAME
I got married at 16 and divorced at 26. With two small children to look after, I started working as a housemaid. I became friendly with a cinema agent who said I could become a great star if I entered films. He said I looked pretty even though I was dark. He teased me saying the day was not far when I would be living in a bungalow and travelling in an expensive car like other stars. I fell for his words.
This was around 12 years ago. My first role was as a nurse in a television serial. The agent said I had to first do small roles. He said they would give me bigger roles later on. I trusted him. I was paid Rs 75 a day. I was initially shy when the make -up man used to put his hands inside my blouse and apply make-up over my breasts. But I learned quickly that one can’t make a fuss about these things in this field.
A week after I joined the unit, the agent informed me that the director was interested in meeting me. He advised me to adjust with him and do whatever he asked. He said he’d offer me a better role if I slept with him. I did. It continued for days, but no big role came. I was taken for a ride.
There was no looking back after that incident. I have learned the rules of the game. Extras like me can’t aspire for plum roles. I have no complaints against anyone, because I do what I do out of my own choice. I have slept with a few film directors, some of whom have a taste for women like me. They like us because we will do whatever they want of us.
I have never felt thrilled having sex with anyone in the industry. One famous director paid me Rs 2,000 for having sex with him. That was the highest amount anyone from the industry has paid me. The make-up men or costumers do not pay more than Rs 1,000. I started drinking only after entering the film industry. One good thing is that everyone prefers safe sex these days and uses condom without fail.
MALATHI, 36
‘ADJUSTED’ TO THE INDUSTRY ROUTINE OF SEX
I ENTERED the cine field about four years ago, after my husband’s untimely death. He was a lorry driver. He died due to excessive drinking. I was 32 when I lost my husband. My two children were small then. Having lost the sole bread-winner in the family, we were in dire straits. I had to feed the family, pay the house rent and find money for my children’s school fees.
That’s when a junior artiste living near us helped me get a job as an extra in the film industry. I didn’t know about the ‘adjustments’ to survive in the field. Nobody misbehaved with me or forced me into sex. But when I realised my earnings were not enough to run my family, I had to make a choice.
My life changed when a colleague asked me if I would be interested in going to a lodge in Mahabalipuram— a tourist spot about 50 km from Chennai — to entertain some people. She said I can earn some extra income. I agreed to it because I needed money badly for my children’s education.
Since then, sex has become routine. I have no feeling when I have sex. I only think about my children. They are studying in a convent in the city. For me, their future is more important than anything else. It is for their sake I am sleeping with all kinds of men, in all kinds of places. There are days when I return home after staying awake the whole night, dead tired, and my body aching everywhere – I cry silently wondering what kind of life is this. I wish I could sleep at home like any other woman and be a normal homemaker.
I have learned to ‘adjust’ with everyone in the film industry. However, people get bored with you after a while. They start asking you to find younger girls who would be interested in acting. Some women oblige them and bring in new girls. My conscience doesn’t permit me to do that.
My children know I am in the film industry, but they are not aware about the darker side of my life. I wish they never know about it. I am God fearing. I realise what I am doing is wrong. Sometimes I tell myself it would be much better if I get into another profession and earn money the hard way. Even if I earn less I can at least live in peace. But I am not sure if it will ever happen.
MINNI,
58 HELPS ORGANISE A SEX WORKERS COLLECTIVE
I CAME to Chennai from Kerala as a 22-year-old in the 1960s with my four little children after my husband deserted me. Now I am 58. I have worked in the cine field for over 30 years. When I entered the field, the extras were paid Rs 10 as daily wage, which was later increased to Rs 100.
Initially, I did try to make a straight living as an extra. But it didn’t work out. I had to change my policy. I have gone out with more men outside the industry than with those in the field. We get more money from outside customers.
I brought up my children with the money I made as an extra and the additional money I earned as a sex worker. My children are all now well settled. My son is in the Indian Army and two of my daughters are settled abroad. The media forgets that we too are human beings and we too have families. The papers publish photos of women caught in prostitution. It destroys the future of those women.
I am devoting more time for social service these days. We have set up a collective of sex workers from Chennai and few other districts. It is a collective of the sex workers, by the sex workers and for the sex workers. Our main aim is to prevent our children from entering the profession. The programme is working well.
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 6, Issue 44, Dated November 07, 2009
Where Do Rejected Little Girls Go...
Tamil Nadu’s cradle baby scheme was supposed to reduce female infanticide. Instead, it is legitimising the traditional discrimination against the girl child. PC VINOJ KUMAR reports
THE IMAGE is emotionally evocative: a palna rocking outside an orphanage, while a desperate young mother tenderly places her child in the cradle, imbued with the hope that he or she will be adopted and get a better life than she can give. That’s the kind of social benefit Union Minister For Women and Child Development Renuka Choudhry also imagines she is engineering when she says that her dream project to combat female infanticide is to extend this very cradle scheme to every district in the country. Almost exactly a year ago, her ministry issued a press release stating that baby reception centres would be set up in each district. The reality, however, far from being evocative, is truly grotesque: abandoned by their parents, these children of a lesser god are then deserted by the state. Once handed over to adoption agencies, their last link with their roots is broken, since agencies are not required to keep records after adoption or fostering, or to provide regular updates to the government.
It is this Tamil Nadu model that Choudhary is trying to replicate. And, in the way of halfbaked do good ideas, it’s more damage to girl children. Beneath the veneer of true charity is a double social veniality. The project has legitimised the traditional discrimination against girl children by tacitly agreeing they are unwanted and can be abandoned. And the state government’s handling of the project has reduced the lives of these children to mere statistics in its record of success. The scheme was launched in Tamil Nadu in 1992 by the then Jayalalithaa government. So the very first children adopted under the scheme would now be 15-16 years old. For a project like as this, one could be forgiven forthinking that the government would be able to give the latest information on each child and how they have benefited. No one in the government knows what happened to these children after they were handed over to adoption agencies — because no one kept any records.
State social welfare minister Poongothai Aladi Aruna said the government only had information about the babies until the time they were delivered to the adoption agencies. “We don’t have records on where the babies have gone from there. We are in the process of collecting the information (regarding their whereabouts and welfare),” she told TEHELKA. What the officials can provide one with are the statistics: the number of babies they received in each year, the break-down of males and females, etc. Where they are, how they live, those are not in included in the information charts. According to information obtained by a NGO under the RTI Act, on June 1, 2007, the government had received a total of 2,589 children. Though the scheme was launched in 1992, it was after 2000 thatthe maximum arrivals occurred. About 2495 children were received during this period — 1545 surrendered and 950 abandoned babies. It has been estimated that the total number may have reached 3000 now. Where are these 3000 young girls today?
According to the Tamil Nadu government, they are just a series of statistics — filed and forgotten. TEHELKA’s evaluation of the scheme is that the government has merely played the role of a middleman in this sordid saga. And what about the poor parents? Acting under immense social pressure, some of these may have been mothers who abandoned their children rather than kill them, while others simply handed over their babies to the government in good faith. They did so because poverty and social conditioning forced them. Though they realised they would never see their children again, the opportunity to improve the child’s life was one they took. Gomathi, a 23 year old from Dharmapuri district (which had the highest response to the cradle baby scheme), says “ They told me once my child was given in adoption, I wouldn’t be able to contact her. I consoled myself that the State would monitor the welfare of my child.” She’s since been seized by guilt and weeps over her decision to surrender her baby to the government (see box) What Gomathi and other mothers certainly did not know was that their babies would be under government care for barely a couple of months before being handed to adoption agencies. Or that the link between the baby and the government would then be broken: it’s the agency that identifies adoptive parents, while the child becomes just another number in a file.
EVEN DEATHS reported are only in numbers and nobody knows if the biological parents are even informed. In fact, the infant mortality rate (IMR) among cradle babies is five times higher than the state average. “The IMR in Tamil Nadu is 31, but it is 162 for the cradle babies,” says P. Phavalam, project officer in the Madurai based Society for Integrated Rural Development, adding, “ As on 1 June 2007, out of the 2589 babies received under the scheme, 404 children had died.” The agency is part of the campaign against sex selective abortion, and is against the scheme. What these poor cradle children have turned out to be is an unending supply resourcefor adoption homes in the state. Social worker Mary Robert at Peace Society, Coimbatore, says that 75 percent of the nearly 140 babies they had given in adoption were cradle babies. “The babies come mostly from Dharmapuri,” she said, adding that all but 10 were females. Most other agencies are reticent about giving any facts. Sheela Jayanthi, director, Karna Prayag Trust, a Chennai based agency says that “whatever information you need on cradle babies, it has to come from the government,” a statement that is echoed by social worker KN George of Guild of Service who said that “we have been informed by the government not to disclose any information on this issue.” The veil of secrecy over the fate of the children only enhances the concern about their welfare. Where are they now? Are they in safe hands? It is not as if these concerns are misplaced or exaggerated. In November 2006, the news about the torture inflicted on a five-year-old cradle baby in Attur near Salem by her foster parents shocked the state. She had been adopted from a home in Hosur. A fact-finding report by a NGO noted that the child had burns and injuries at 300 places all over her body.
UNDER PRESSURE from child welfare activists, the Tamil Nadu government ordered a study on the status of the children placed in adoption. Its findings have not been made public. According to information available with TEHELKA, by January 1, 2007, 1472 cradle children were placed in in-country adoption and 115 in inter-country adoption. To anti-cradle scheme activists, it is a matter of concern that 115 girl children might be growing up in a culture alien to them, in violation of the guidelines of the 1989 UN Declaration of the Rights of the Child and 1993 The Hague Convention on Inter-country Adoption. “Can the government establish that no Indian parent was willing to adopt any of those 115 children? It won’t be able to,” charges A. Renganathan, director of Salem based NGO Village Reconstruction and Development Project.
The credibility of many of these agencies is highly suspect. In 2005, a panel including educationist SS Rajagopalan, senior advocate PV Bathavachalam and human rights activist Ossie Fernandes, conducted a four-month study on the functioning of the adoption agencies. The study was carried out after the arrest of the people running an adoption agency called Malaysian Social Service Society in Chennai for their alleged involvement in a case relating to the kidnapping and selling of about 350 children between 1991 and 2001. The study found there was “big competition” among adoption agencies to get babies from the government’s cradle baby scheme. It also found that the agencies received hefty donations (from prospective parents) for handing a child for adoption. The report noted: “We were told these donations are not accounted for and could range from Rs 50000 to Rs 2 lakh.” The report chided the government for handing cradle babies for adoption “with no follow-up or monitoring mechanism”. Fernan-des said that, “the government has no moral or legal right to give away the children to adoption agencies. The government should make public what happened to the children given in adoption under the cradle baby scheme.” The state government has not ventured any reply.
IN FACT, the very proliferation of adoption agencies in Tamil Nadu is intricately linked to the cradle scheme. It may not be a coincidence that, between 2002 and 2006, their number doubled from 11 to 23. This was when the AIADMK government revived the scheme and extended it to all the districts. The then social welfare minister, B Valarmathi, accused the previous DMK government of having shown little interest in the project. Between 1992 and 1996, when the AIADMK was in power, 136 babies were received under the scheme, when it was functional in just two districts. During the subsequent five-year DMK rule only 10 children were received. But the present DMK government has been fully supportive of the scheme. The social welfare department’s policy note for 2007-2008 sermonises on the virtues of adoption: “Adoption undoubtedly offers an important avenue for the care and protection of orphaned, abandoned, destitute and neglected children in a family environment…” The district that accounts for the highest number of babies received under the scheme is Dharmapuri. It is socially and economically backward, with high incidence of female infanticide. The scheme was launched here in 2002. By 27 February 2008, the reception centre at the Dharmapuri government hospital had received its 1,044th baby. She belonged to a couple from a village near Dharmapuri, who handed over the child since they already had two girls. On February 21, three babies were deposited at the centre on a single day. Since the start of the year, the centre has been receiving a female child every third day on an average. M. Selvi, who runs the centre, says that only 41 of 1044 were males. “The male children usually have some disability. Few were HIV positive or born in an illegal relationship,” she says.
The message is clear. A male baby is dumped only if it has some disability, but a girl child is dumped because of its gender. Selvi says that she counsels those who bring their child, but is careful not to force them. “If we press too hard, they will take the baby and abandon it somewhere or just kill it,” she says. April 11, 2006, was an unforgettable day for this centre when three female babies were handed in. In two cases, the parents had two daughters already and did not want a third female child. The third child was found abandoned in a dustbin. Salem is another district where there is an endless supply of babies for the scheme. An official at the social welfare department said they have so far received 884 children. The register record is kept at the neo natal ward in the Mohan Kumaramangalam Medical College Hospital. Each entry registering the arrival of a child is a sad reflection of entrenched social mores against female children. “In many cases the parents don’t want to disclose their identity. So, they simply abandon their child,” says Dr. R. Selvaraj. According to hospital records, on January 21, a mother in the hospital’s labour ward abandoned a 2-day-old baby. On January 26, when the nation was celebrating its Republic Day, the parents of a 45-day-old girl baby surrendered her to the government: she had a cleft lip, two strikes against the poor girl.
On 3 February, a one-day-old girl child was found abandoned near a house at V Kooturodu; the next day, the parents of a three-day-old baby with a lump in the back handed over their child. On 18 February a male baby — for a change — was found near the Salem New Bus Stand in a garbage heap and February 22, a two-month-old girl child was found abandoned near the hospital’s nephrology ward. All of them became cradle children, forever unable to trace their roots — mere numbers in the emotional gulag that the scheme has become.
Despite its backing of the scheme, the state government has been meagre when it comes to allocating funding: according to the social welfare department’s policy notes for various financial years, it’s ranged berween Rs 12 lakh and Rs 6 lakh. Not only is the project run on a pittance, activists say there is no exclusive staff to man it. “The nurses in the cradle reception centre are on deputation from primary health centres. There are no qualified people to counsel those who come to surrender their babies. ” says M Shankar, convenor of the Tamil Nadu chapter of the Campaign Against Negligence of Girl Child. Naturally, there have been calls for the programme to be scrapped. “The scheme has encouraged the neglect of the girl child. It has denied her the right to live with her family,” says Shankar. He says it hasn’t eradicated female infanticide or female feticide either. “Dharmapuri’s sex ratio in the 0-6 age group is 877 compared to the state’s ratio of 939. Similarly the female infanticide rate is 73 against the state’s rate of 55,” he says.
Recently, activists came under the banner of the Social Movement Against Female Infant Mortality and held a conference in Dharmapuri to suggest ‘alternative schemes to save female babies.’ The speakers demanded that the government release a ‘white paper’. They also suggested the government could provide assistance to more girls in a family. For instance, the marriage assistance scheme provides Rs 15000 to one girl in a family. If this was extended to other girls in the family, it might effect a change of attitude. But the government is too busy patting itself on the back to make any serious evaluation.
Salem district collector N. Mathivanan argues that cases of female infanticide have come down: every child added to the scheme is a life saved. Dharmapuri MP Dr R. Senthil of the PMK says the scheme is a necessity, but requires some streamlining. “It is essential for the government to monitor the child even after adoption. But it should not do anything stupid like asking the adop-tive parents to report to the taluk office or the police station with the child periodically. The issue has to be handled in a humane manner, so that people would continue to come forward to adopt the babies,” he says. Meanwhile, the Puducherry government has shelved the launching of the cradle baby scheme.
According to the original plan, Choudhary was to inaugurate the scheme, christened as the Annai Sonia Cradle Baby Scheme on December 9, the Congress president’s birthday. But the launch has been postponed now. R Smitha, managing director of the Puducherry Corporation for Development of Women, said the scheme has been shelved for lack of funds. “It will be launched during 2009-2010,” she said. She said they would follow the Tamil Nadu model and hand over the babies to two licensed adoption agencies in Puducherry. There’s little doubt that Choudhary is enthusiastic about extending the cheme to other parts of the country. However, with its flawed structure and implementation, this is an extension that might well be catastrophic: instead of thousands, there might well be millions of little girl children in a life possibly worse than death, chronicle of a death foretold.
WRITER'S EMAIL:
vinoj@tehelka.com
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 12, Dated Mar 29, 2008
Killer Districts
Dharmapuri and Salemtop the cradle baby charts. The region has a high female infanticide rate, finds PC VINOJ KUMAR
PRATIBHA PATIL. Jayalalitha. Mayawati. Sania Mirza. For each modern, successful woman that we appreciate and laud, the inescapable reality is that in the villages of India, even a lifeline is not something women can take for granted. Travelling through the villages in Salem and Dharmapuri districts of Tamil Nadu is a journey into the heart of this darkness — a journey in which one encounters the deep-rooted prejudice against the girl child at every turn. It was this region that had a high female infanticide rate in the 1990s: women would kill newborn girl children by giving them milk laced with kalli paal (an extract of a poisonous cactus plant) or paddy husk. It’s hardly surprising that these two districts top the cradle baby charts. It was in a bid to stop the practice that the state began arresting parents accused of female infanticide under Section 302 IPC (murder).
In 1994, for the first time, a case was registered against an agricultural coolie worker, Karuppayee from Usilampatti. She was charged with killing her girl child, convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment. An estimated 100 such cases were registered. In February this year, the Madras High Court awarded life imprisonment to another couple from Namakkal district for killing their girl child in 2001, observing: “It is unfortunate that…the practice of female infanticide still prevails…A child, being supremely important national asset, should be nurtured. This is more so in the case of a female child.” These poor parents, however, see a female child as a liability. In a village near Pennagaram in Dhamapuri district, we met a woman who said, with no remorse, that she killed her child by giving her a glass of concentrated salt water. Her argument: she would have suffered had she lived. She felt that she’d done her a great service, extinguishing her life at birth, saving her from hardship. If her logic sounded warped, she certainly had the courage of conviction.
In Poyar Colony, Seeramma proudly holds the hand of her 5-year-old son. She was accused of killing her girl child in 2001 — the son was born later. For Kandammal of Aanaikalanur, the only regret is that she does not have a male child. In 2001, she was arrested with her husband and in laws on charges of killing her girl child, her fourth consecutive daughter. The government has not pursued the cases against Kandammal and Seeramma, after a campaign by NGOs. “Many of those arrested had girl children already. Those girls became orphans when their parents were sent to jail,” says Pennagaram- based M. Shankar, director of Development Education and Environment Protection Society. It’s for parents with this level of desperation that the cradle baby scheme was launched. But social workers in these districts say the practice of female infanticide has not been eradicated. A Renganathan, director of a Salem based NGO says that some parents prefer to kill unwanted girl children instead of handing her over to the government. “It causes grief for a few days, then it’s over. To hand over the child for adoption would give them life-long worry.” he says.
In Mettur, Salem district, the Welfare Centre for Women and Children (WCWC), has devised an innovative program to combat female infanticide. The organisation identifies pregnant women and places those with two or more girl children in high risk category and monitor them closely. “If any of them delivers a female child, we try to create a bond between the child and the mother. This helps reducing female infanticide considerably,” says R Sampath, director. Many of those who have given their babies to the government are facing social ostracism. Gomathi, from Thottalampatti village in Dharmapuri district, is still taunted by neighbours three years after giving up her daughter. Seventy-year-old Chinnamma, standing nearby, rubs it in: “Gomathi made a mistake. She should have brought up the other child herself and not given it to the government.” On hearing this, Gomathi’s eyes well up in tears and she starts weeping.
Not everyone is like Gomathi though. Devaraj and Govindamma from Palayamputhur village near Dharmapuri feel they took the right decision in handing over their fourth child to the government, two days after she was born. “We had no money. Instead of all of us starving, we felt it would be better to hand over our new baby to the cradle scheme,” says Devaraj, a daily wage earner. The gender bias is clear — girls must make way for families to survive.
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 12, Dated Mar 29, 2008
In The Interest Of The Mother And The Child
No woman differentiates between a son and a daughter. The cradle scheme empowers her to escape the pressures of a male-enforced abortion culture
KHUSHBOO
THERE IS NO DOUBT the status of a girl child has improved substantially since independence. Girls have become independent and they are taking their own decisions. There was a time when girls were not even allowed to think about education. The situation has changed today. Parents are themselves encouraging their girls to study well. However, there’s much more to be done in rural areas. The government has to ensure that every girl child is given education. What a son can do, a daughter can do better if she is educated.
Some think it is only with a son the family can move ahead. I beg to differ. I have two daughters, Anandita and Avantika. They are going to do me proud one day. I am waiting for a day when people will turn around and say, “This is Ananthitha’s and Avantika’s mom.” My husband and I have never thought of having a son. Let me tell you, if I get pregnant again, I would pray for another girl child. No mother would differentiate between a girl child and a boy child. It is only when people battle poverty that they look at the girl child as a burden. How are they going to educate her, have her married?
In villages, people have this mindset that a man can go out, work in the field or do any kind of job but a girl is not capable of doing it. So the problem has more to do with economic conditions. In the cities, it is different. Science has advanced so you can find out the sex of the child before it is born. Sadly, some people are misusing it. There is this male ego in society. Some men feel they are not man enough if their wife gives birth to a girl child. A woman has no such problems. For her what matters most is being a mother. She doesn’t care whether it is a male child or a female child: 99 percent women would not want their child to be aborted. If they do, knowing that it is a female child, it is under the pressure of the family members.
The cradle baby scheme is a good project. The mother who hands over the child is thinking about the best interest of the child. She believes the child would be placed in a better family and would receive good education and three meals a day that she can’t afford. I think it is better to leave the child on the government cradle rather than throwing her in the garbage bin, where she could be snatched and eaten by dogs. They also give you 60 days to take the baby back in case you have a change of heart. Placing the baby in adoption is better that putting the child in an orphanage.
It is important the agencies hand over the child to the correct people. They must be genuine people, who could bring up the child well. But the government’s responsibility should not end there. The agencies should report to the government saying where the child has been handed over and give periodical reports till she is 18. The government should directly follow up on the welfare of the child on a yearly basis and maintain records of each child. These records should be transparent.
Khushboo is a leading Tamil actor
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 12, Dated Mar 29, 2008
THE IMAGE is emotionally evocative: a palna rocking outside an orphanage, while a desperate young mother tenderly places her child in the cradle, imbued with the hope that he or she will be adopted and get a better life than she can give. That’s the kind of social benefit Union Minister For Women and Child Development Renuka Choudhry also imagines she is engineering when she says that her dream project to combat female infanticide is to extend this very cradle scheme to every district in the country. Almost exactly a year ago, her ministry issued a press release stating that baby reception centres would be set up in each district. The reality, however, far from being evocative, is truly grotesque: abandoned by their parents, these children of a lesser god are then deserted by the state. Once handed over to adoption agencies, their last link with their roots is broken, since agencies are not required to keep records after adoption or fostering, or to provide regular updates to the government.
It is this Tamil Nadu model that Choudhary is trying to replicate. And, in the way of halfbaked do good ideas, it’s more damage to girl children. Beneath the veneer of true charity is a double social veniality. The project has legitimised the traditional discrimination against girl children by tacitly agreeing they are unwanted and can be abandoned. And the state government’s handling of the project has reduced the lives of these children to mere statistics in its record of success. The scheme was launched in Tamil Nadu in 1992 by the then Jayalalithaa government. So the very first children adopted under the scheme would now be 15-16 years old. For a project like as this, one could be forgiven forthinking that the government would be able to give the latest information on each child and how they have benefited. No one in the government knows what happened to these children after they were handed over to adoption agencies — because no one kept any records.
State social welfare minister Poongothai Aladi Aruna said the government only had information about the babies until the time they were delivered to the adoption agencies. “We don’t have records on where the babies have gone from there. We are in the process of collecting the information (regarding their whereabouts and welfare),” she told TEHELKA. What the officials can provide one with are the statistics: the number of babies they received in each year, the break-down of males and females, etc. Where they are, how they live, those are not in included in the information charts. According to information obtained by a NGO under the RTI Act, on June 1, 2007, the government had received a total of 2,589 children. Though the scheme was launched in 1992, it was after 2000 thatthe maximum arrivals occurred. About 2495 children were received during this period — 1545 surrendered and 950 abandoned babies. It has been estimated that the total number may have reached 3000 now. Where are these 3000 young girls today?
According to the Tamil Nadu government, they are just a series of statistics — filed and forgotten. TEHELKA’s evaluation of the scheme is that the government has merely played the role of a middleman in this sordid saga. And what about the poor parents? Acting under immense social pressure, some of these may have been mothers who abandoned their children rather than kill them, while others simply handed over their babies to the government in good faith. They did so because poverty and social conditioning forced them. Though they realised they would never see their children again, the opportunity to improve the child’s life was one they took. Gomathi, a 23 year old from Dharmapuri district (which had the highest response to the cradle baby scheme), says “ They told me once my child was given in adoption, I wouldn’t be able to contact her. I consoled myself that the State would monitor the welfare of my child.” She’s since been seized by guilt and weeps over her decision to surrender her baby to the government (see box) What Gomathi and other mothers certainly did not know was that their babies would be under government care for barely a couple of months before being handed to adoption agencies. Or that the link between the baby and the government would then be broken: it’s the agency that identifies adoptive parents, while the child becomes just another number in a file.
EVEN DEATHS reported are only in numbers and nobody knows if the biological parents are even informed. In fact, the infant mortality rate (IMR) among cradle babies is five times higher than the state average. “The IMR in Tamil Nadu is 31, but it is 162 for the cradle babies,” says P. Phavalam, project officer in the Madurai based Society for Integrated Rural Development, adding, “ As on 1 June 2007, out of the 2589 babies received under the scheme, 404 children had died.” The agency is part of the campaign against sex selective abortion, and is against the scheme. What these poor cradle children have turned out to be is an unending supply resourcefor adoption homes in the state. Social worker Mary Robert at Peace Society, Coimbatore, says that 75 percent of the nearly 140 babies they had given in adoption were cradle babies. “The babies come mostly from Dharmapuri,” she said, adding that all but 10 were females. Most other agencies are reticent about giving any facts. Sheela Jayanthi, director, Karna Prayag Trust, a Chennai based agency says that “whatever information you need on cradle babies, it has to come from the government,” a statement that is echoed by social worker KN George of Guild of Service who said that “we have been informed by the government not to disclose any information on this issue.” The veil of secrecy over the fate of the children only enhances the concern about their welfare. Where are they now? Are they in safe hands? It is not as if these concerns are misplaced or exaggerated. In November 2006, the news about the torture inflicted on a five-year-old cradle baby in Attur near Salem by her foster parents shocked the state. She had been adopted from a home in Hosur. A fact-finding report by a NGO noted that the child had burns and injuries at 300 places all over her body.
UNDER PRESSURE from child welfare activists, the Tamil Nadu government ordered a study on the status of the children placed in adoption. Its findings have not been made public. According to information available with TEHELKA, by January 1, 2007, 1472 cradle children were placed in in-country adoption and 115 in inter-country adoption. To anti-cradle scheme activists, it is a matter of concern that 115 girl children might be growing up in a culture alien to them, in violation of the guidelines of the 1989 UN Declaration of the Rights of the Child and 1993 The Hague Convention on Inter-country Adoption. “Can the government establish that no Indian parent was willing to adopt any of those 115 children? It won’t be able to,” charges A. Renganathan, director of Salem based NGO Village Reconstruction and Development Project.
The credibility of many of these agencies is highly suspect. In 2005, a panel including educationist SS Rajagopalan, senior advocate PV Bathavachalam and human rights activist Ossie Fernandes, conducted a four-month study on the functioning of the adoption agencies. The study was carried out after the arrest of the people running an adoption agency called Malaysian Social Service Society in Chennai for their alleged involvement in a case relating to the kidnapping and selling of about 350 children between 1991 and 2001. The study found there was “big competition” among adoption agencies to get babies from the government’s cradle baby scheme. It also found that the agencies received hefty donations (from prospective parents) for handing a child for adoption. The report noted: “We were told these donations are not accounted for and could range from Rs 50000 to Rs 2 lakh.” The report chided the government for handing cradle babies for adoption “with no follow-up or monitoring mechanism”. Fernan-des said that, “the government has no moral or legal right to give away the children to adoption agencies. The government should make public what happened to the children given in adoption under the cradle baby scheme.” The state government has not ventured any reply.
IN FACT, the very proliferation of adoption agencies in Tamil Nadu is intricately linked to the cradle scheme. It may not be a coincidence that, between 2002 and 2006, their number doubled from 11 to 23. This was when the AIADMK government revived the scheme and extended it to all the districts. The then social welfare minister, B Valarmathi, accused the previous DMK government of having shown little interest in the project. Between 1992 and 1996, when the AIADMK was in power, 136 babies were received under the scheme, when it was functional in just two districts. During the subsequent five-year DMK rule only 10 children were received. But the present DMK government has been fully supportive of the scheme. The social welfare department’s policy note for 2007-2008 sermonises on the virtues of adoption: “Adoption undoubtedly offers an important avenue for the care and protection of orphaned, abandoned, destitute and neglected children in a family environment…” The district that accounts for the highest number of babies received under the scheme is Dharmapuri. It is socially and economically backward, with high incidence of female infanticide. The scheme was launched here in 2002. By 27 February 2008, the reception centre at the Dharmapuri government hospital had received its 1,044th baby. She belonged to a couple from a village near Dharmapuri, who handed over the child since they already had two girls. On February 21, three babies were deposited at the centre on a single day. Since the start of the year, the centre has been receiving a female child every third day on an average. M. Selvi, who runs the centre, says that only 41 of 1044 were males. “The male children usually have some disability. Few were HIV positive or born in an illegal relationship,” she says.
The message is clear. A male baby is dumped only if it has some disability, but a girl child is dumped because of its gender. Selvi says that she counsels those who bring their child, but is careful not to force them. “If we press too hard, they will take the baby and abandon it somewhere or just kill it,” she says. April 11, 2006, was an unforgettable day for this centre when three female babies were handed in. In two cases, the parents had two daughters already and did not want a third female child. The third child was found abandoned in a dustbin. Salem is another district where there is an endless supply of babies for the scheme. An official at the social welfare department said they have so far received 884 children. The register record is kept at the neo natal ward in the Mohan Kumaramangalam Medical College Hospital. Each entry registering the arrival of a child is a sad reflection of entrenched social mores against female children. “In many cases the parents don’t want to disclose their identity. So, they simply abandon their child,” says Dr. R. Selvaraj. According to hospital records, on January 21, a mother in the hospital’s labour ward abandoned a 2-day-old baby. On January 26, when the nation was celebrating its Republic Day, the parents of a 45-day-old girl baby surrendered her to the government: she had a cleft lip, two strikes against the poor girl.
On 3 February, a one-day-old girl child was found abandoned near a house at V Kooturodu; the next day, the parents of a three-day-old baby with a lump in the back handed over their child. On 18 February a male baby — for a change — was found near the Salem New Bus Stand in a garbage heap and February 22, a two-month-old girl child was found abandoned near the hospital’s nephrology ward. All of them became cradle children, forever unable to trace their roots — mere numbers in the emotional gulag that the scheme has become.
Despite its backing of the scheme, the state government has been meagre when it comes to allocating funding: according to the social welfare department’s policy notes for various financial years, it’s ranged berween Rs 12 lakh and Rs 6 lakh. Not only is the project run on a pittance, activists say there is no exclusive staff to man it. “The nurses in the cradle reception centre are on deputation from primary health centres. There are no qualified people to counsel those who come to surrender their babies. ” says M Shankar, convenor of the Tamil Nadu chapter of the Campaign Against Negligence of Girl Child. Naturally, there have been calls for the programme to be scrapped. “The scheme has encouraged the neglect of the girl child. It has denied her the right to live with her family,” says Shankar. He says it hasn’t eradicated female infanticide or female feticide either. “Dharmapuri’s sex ratio in the 0-6 age group is 877 compared to the state’s ratio of 939. Similarly the female infanticide rate is 73 against the state’s rate of 55,” he says.
Recently, activists came under the banner of the Social Movement Against Female Infant Mortality and held a conference in Dharmapuri to suggest ‘alternative schemes to save female babies.’ The speakers demanded that the government release a ‘white paper’. They also suggested the government could provide assistance to more girls in a family. For instance, the marriage assistance scheme provides Rs 15000 to one girl in a family. If this was extended to other girls in the family, it might effect a change of attitude. But the government is too busy patting itself on the back to make any serious evaluation.
Salem district collector N. Mathivanan argues that cases of female infanticide have come down: every child added to the scheme is a life saved. Dharmapuri MP Dr R. Senthil of the PMK says the scheme is a necessity, but requires some streamlining. “It is essential for the government to monitor the child even after adoption. But it should not do anything stupid like asking the adop-tive parents to report to the taluk office or the police station with the child periodically. The issue has to be handled in a humane manner, so that people would continue to come forward to adopt the babies,” he says. Meanwhile, the Puducherry government has shelved the launching of the cradle baby scheme.
According to the original plan, Choudhary was to inaugurate the scheme, christened as the Annai Sonia Cradle Baby Scheme on December 9, the Congress president’s birthday. But the launch has been postponed now. R Smitha, managing director of the Puducherry Corporation for Development of Women, said the scheme has been shelved for lack of funds. “It will be launched during 2009-2010,” she said. She said they would follow the Tamil Nadu model and hand over the babies to two licensed adoption agencies in Puducherry. There’s little doubt that Choudhary is enthusiastic about extending the cheme to other parts of the country. However, with its flawed structure and implementation, this is an extension that might well be catastrophic: instead of thousands, there might well be millions of little girl children in a life possibly worse than death, chronicle of a death foretold.
WRITER'S EMAIL:
vinoj@tehelka.com
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 12, Dated Mar 29, 2008
Killer Districts
Dharmapuri and Salemtop the cradle baby charts. The region has a high female infanticide rate, finds PC VINOJ KUMAR
PRATIBHA PATIL. Jayalalitha. Mayawati. Sania Mirza. For each modern, successful woman that we appreciate and laud, the inescapable reality is that in the villages of India, even a lifeline is not something women can take for granted. Travelling through the villages in Salem and Dharmapuri districts of Tamil Nadu is a journey into the heart of this darkness — a journey in which one encounters the deep-rooted prejudice against the girl child at every turn. It was this region that had a high female infanticide rate in the 1990s: women would kill newborn girl children by giving them milk laced with kalli paal (an extract of a poisonous cactus plant) or paddy husk. It’s hardly surprising that these two districts top the cradle baby charts. It was in a bid to stop the practice that the state began arresting parents accused of female infanticide under Section 302 IPC (murder).
In 1994, for the first time, a case was registered against an agricultural coolie worker, Karuppayee from Usilampatti. She was charged with killing her girl child, convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment. An estimated 100 such cases were registered. In February this year, the Madras High Court awarded life imprisonment to another couple from Namakkal district for killing their girl child in 2001, observing: “It is unfortunate that…the practice of female infanticide still prevails…A child, being supremely important national asset, should be nurtured. This is more so in the case of a female child.” These poor parents, however, see a female child as a liability. In a village near Pennagaram in Dhamapuri district, we met a woman who said, with no remorse, that she killed her child by giving her a glass of concentrated salt water. Her argument: she would have suffered had she lived. She felt that she’d done her a great service, extinguishing her life at birth, saving her from hardship. If her logic sounded warped, she certainly had the courage of conviction.
In Poyar Colony, Seeramma proudly holds the hand of her 5-year-old son. She was accused of killing her girl child in 2001 — the son was born later. For Kandammal of Aanaikalanur, the only regret is that she does not have a male child. In 2001, she was arrested with her husband and in laws on charges of killing her girl child, her fourth consecutive daughter. The government has not pursued the cases against Kandammal and Seeramma, after a campaign by NGOs. “Many of those arrested had girl children already. Those girls became orphans when their parents were sent to jail,” says Pennagaram- based M. Shankar, director of Development Education and Environment Protection Society. It’s for parents with this level of desperation that the cradle baby scheme was launched. But social workers in these districts say the practice of female infanticide has not been eradicated. A Renganathan, director of a Salem based NGO says that some parents prefer to kill unwanted girl children instead of handing her over to the government. “It causes grief for a few days, then it’s over. To hand over the child for adoption would give them life-long worry.” he says.
In Mettur, Salem district, the Welfare Centre for Women and Children (WCWC), has devised an innovative program to combat female infanticide. The organisation identifies pregnant women and places those with two or more girl children in high risk category and monitor them closely. “If any of them delivers a female child, we try to create a bond between the child and the mother. This helps reducing female infanticide considerably,” says R Sampath, director. Many of those who have given their babies to the government are facing social ostracism. Gomathi, from Thottalampatti village in Dharmapuri district, is still taunted by neighbours three years after giving up her daughter. Seventy-year-old Chinnamma, standing nearby, rubs it in: “Gomathi made a mistake. She should have brought up the other child herself and not given it to the government.” On hearing this, Gomathi’s eyes well up in tears and she starts weeping.
Not everyone is like Gomathi though. Devaraj and Govindamma from Palayamputhur village near Dharmapuri feel they took the right decision in handing over their fourth child to the government, two days after she was born. “We had no money. Instead of all of us starving, we felt it would be better to hand over our new baby to the cradle scheme,” says Devaraj, a daily wage earner. The gender bias is clear — girls must make way for families to survive.
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 12, Dated Mar 29, 2008
In The Interest Of The Mother And The Child
No woman differentiates between a son and a daughter. The cradle scheme empowers her to escape the pressures of a male-enforced abortion culture
KHUSHBOO
THERE IS NO DOUBT the status of a girl child has improved substantially since independence. Girls have become independent and they are taking their own decisions. There was a time when girls were not even allowed to think about education. The situation has changed today. Parents are themselves encouraging their girls to study well. However, there’s much more to be done in rural areas. The government has to ensure that every girl child is given education. What a son can do, a daughter can do better if she is educated.
Some think it is only with a son the family can move ahead. I beg to differ. I have two daughters, Anandita and Avantika. They are going to do me proud one day. I am waiting for a day when people will turn around and say, “This is Ananthitha’s and Avantika’s mom.” My husband and I have never thought of having a son. Let me tell you, if I get pregnant again, I would pray for another girl child. No mother would differentiate between a girl child and a boy child. It is only when people battle poverty that they look at the girl child as a burden. How are they going to educate her, have her married?
In villages, people have this mindset that a man can go out, work in the field or do any kind of job but a girl is not capable of doing it. So the problem has more to do with economic conditions. In the cities, it is different. Science has advanced so you can find out the sex of the child before it is born. Sadly, some people are misusing it. There is this male ego in society. Some men feel they are not man enough if their wife gives birth to a girl child. A woman has no such problems. For her what matters most is being a mother. She doesn’t care whether it is a male child or a female child: 99 percent women would not want their child to be aborted. If they do, knowing that it is a female child, it is under the pressure of the family members.
The cradle baby scheme is a good project. The mother who hands over the child is thinking about the best interest of the child. She believes the child would be placed in a better family and would receive good education and three meals a day that she can’t afford. I think it is better to leave the child on the government cradle rather than throwing her in the garbage bin, where she could be snatched and eaten by dogs. They also give you 60 days to take the baby back in case you have a change of heart. Placing the baby in adoption is better that putting the child in an orphanage.
It is important the agencies hand over the child to the correct people. They must be genuine people, who could bring up the child well. But the government’s responsibility should not end there. The agencies should report to the government saying where the child has been handed over and give periodical reports till she is 18. The government should directly follow up on the welfare of the child on a yearly basis and maintain records of each child. These records should be transparent.
Khushboo is a leading Tamil actor
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 12, Dated Mar 29, 2008
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