From my neighbourhood to Wall Street

A lazy day when the phone rang and concerned family and friends told me of the series of bomb blasts in Delhi. My first reaction was, whats new, yet again, lives don’t matter anymore. It has been a series of 11 blasts since 2001 and nothing concrete ever came out of it. And now blasts in the capital in all the major hotspots and all we will see are media channels giving breaking news with funny dummy stories and visuals. And the ever hungry Indian consumer will watch that raising the channels TRPs. There will be blame games amongst political parties and increased allocation to the Intelligence and security systems of the country that anyways have not made headways in the last 7 years.

Thinking deeper I realized there was unrest in the country in almost all parts and we have become so immune to it. Life seems to be going fine for me, so how does it matter?

But the red alarm reels inside the head some thousand times when even I am flipping through the newspaper or television channels all that is there to the country today is reports of death of innocent human beings, be it as victims of some blasts, pro-freedom movement, police encounters or torching down of minority establishments.

At this level when I turn my attention to rage against the governance in this country, thanks to friends in the financial sector that I delved to read news on the global economic crisis. An establishment as revered as Lehman Brothers, one of the oldest investment banks of the world files for bankruptcy on September 14^th. It was a blow to the global capital market. When PWC was brought on board as administrators they reported there was no cash in the company post the fall. The shock had not been absorbed and Merrill Lynch was bought by Bank of America. Finally they became bank holding companies and the US government paid $700bn to tackle the worst economic crisis in decades. With the developed north crashing there is not much hope anyways for the developing south. Anyways the Indian aping of neo-liberal economy without much deliberation has brought us at the edge of the blackhole.

The economic crisis as the base of the Marxian base-superstructure theory, now poses a severe challenge to the already dwindling food and fuel crisis in India. As if the governments failure to generate employment for the exploding population of the country was not enough that now there will be major cut down on human resources by the MNCs. The shift of focus though doesn’t change the fact that inflation had reached 12.9%.

I had all of this reeling in my head when I went to attend the National Convention on Union Budget 2009-10. I was left flabbergasted with the numbers. Each sector thrashing out inadequacy in allocation, implementation, even conceptually the sectoral understandings seemed to be unclear and that having high levels of ramifications. I wondered about the complexity in the naivety. If experts even cannot develop a macro perspective, sincerely there is threat, of collapsing without even an alarm. The review of the MDGs at several parts of South Asia does portray a grim picture for India. But panelists here except for two did not give me holistic sense of the economic paradigm shift and its implications.

Though as I write this I realize the grassroots experiences are complex and there are several layers before we reach the policy level. How much can one embrace and how much can one choose to keep at the threshold? But can it be the dead end? Is there no solution to it? Or atleast the promise of respite somewhere?

The blow to Wall Street will have deep impact in India, and here people were advocating against remaining bystanders and fighting for marginalized factions of the society. Do they not know the overall implications? Do they not know that factionalizing at this point will only reap indefinable complexities? As much as it remains a serious concern, it frightens me to not see any able leadership developing in this country to be able to address these multilayered issues and crisis the largest democracy of the world is grappling with.

Coming back home, the encounter where the police apparently nabbed the masterminds of the Delhi blasts, the incident took place two blocks away from the place I live in. In the month of Ramzan when the whole community is fasting, this encounter took place in the bylanes of a crowded locality near Jamia Millia resulting in the death of a police inspector of the Special Cell and established the presence of terrorist cells in minority pockets. When I was on my way back home the eerie feeling in the lanes shook me from the roots. I felt scared of being an Indian, felt scared for the people who are family are Muslims and the majority wrath would not spare them, felt scared because every other young guy in that space resembles the faces which appear on the wanted lists. Scared for the age group thats the promise of the dawn tomorrow,the mighty young brains between 22-25 are taking up arms against global socio-economic discrepancies,I was scared because the area was prone to a communal clash in the batter of an eyelid.

The reports doing rounds of all the convoluted claims of nabbing terrorists comes later to me. What comes out first is the Muslim community is under severe crisis. Though I cannot not accept that communities at their levels have not thrashed one another and that is a blessing in disguise but the Muslim community who were anyways the point of attack by majority extremists is today questioning identities at all levels. With the blasts taking a national character, the global war to curb terrorism going full swing, India today is hiding from the danger that has no face. The communal violence inflicted in eastern, western and southern parts of the country by the Sena has not even received a strong reaction from the centre. I am deeply troubled by the complacent attitude. The backlash against the Home Minister definitely needs to be heard by the people in command. Have the Gandhis forgotten the trauma the country went through post the 1984 riots? Have they forgotten the series of assassinations in their family? So why is there no strong resolution to combat the communal tension in the country?

On the onset it might sound like those several blame games that every one is up against another, I understand this is far more complex than the words actually puts forth, but this calls for action, this calls for concrete ways in which the country can look at violation of human rights and not treat the present situation as a political game of ideology. Lets rise beyond creating opportunities from conflicts for human lives are not frivolous.

The array of natural disasters in the country already is sign of nature backlashing against the human civilization, lets not create spaces for the ugly head of man-made disaster to breathe into us the venom of intolerance and hatred.

24th Sept.New Delhi

Untilted Framed

Field Musings 2
















A few moments captured,and stories unearthed.
The journey continues

Untitled as Untilted ---the wasted sequel

Swecha is a youth movement, or lets say it started as one and then they decided to take shape and become this registered organization that primarily works on Environment and building responsible citizen movement around it.
Wasted was the first film the organization produced.
It is more of a personal voice of the organization and the creators of the film who tracked the journey of waste from homes of a neighborhood in Vasant Vihar in New Delhi to the landfill where the waste is segregated,sold and recycled. It is a peek into the existence of hundreds of waste pickers who live a faceless live but contribute almost rupees 20 crore per annum to the Indian economy. But that is also wasted.
What follows is anecdotes of the field visits in the form of a field diary

Field Musings

My shift to Delhi found a space to walk when I decided to work for the next film Swecha was conceptualizing to make.
This is going to trace the lives of the waste-pickers and the life analysis of the waste that fills the Lands in the space called Jahangirpuri,8 kms from Delhi University. The area is a resettlement colony for the waste pickers who migrated to this space since they seem to not remember.

With almost no concept of waste management except for books and articles,and the glimpse of landfills in Mumbai, I had to go to the field if I wanted to feel connected to the film and thus began my journey to Jahangirpuri. A non-Delhiite's first travelogue with all good intentions of not intruding into the community with a camera was dampened by the random rains right in the morning of 8th August.
The rain washed Delhi streets would make one feel like it exchanged roads with Mumbai. It was monotonous and heavy drizzles.
The trip to Central Secretariat was like any other metro traffic laden roads.
From there to Delhi University in the underground train which often seems like a replica of the subway trains of Europe. I was to take a bus to the Azadpur New Subzi Mandi. Unable to create space amongst the hard core aggressive bus commuters and feeling like a wet crow the next option was the auto. The auto drops me there and refuses to move an inch ahead.
Dismissed by the auto, I tried the cycle rickshaws. I explained resettlement colonies of kabariwalas (ragpickers) and the destination was explained to me as Bangali Bastis (settlements of Bengalis,Bengalis synonymous to Bangladeshis) and finally I was there.

Jahangirpuri, about three kilometres from Azadpur in North West Delhi looks at Delhi through different lenses. It seems to be a world by itself. One one side of the road there were apartments and shops like any urban-semi/urban spaces. On the other hand there were stacks of waste in polythene bags organized as if they were the guardians of the space I was about to enter.
The first walk through the alley was uneventful. The concentration was more on the shots that could have been captured, and trying to find the story within it, till I realized the two kids were following me curiously. Befriending Saajan and Deepak I walked back to where I began. Here I met Khalid, a scorpio driver whose live has begun in this space. In almost no time did the conversation had many people joining in and with all kinds of question, who what,where,why,and most importantly what is our benefit from the film. As a development professional it is perhaps easy to answer the question but as a film maker when the medium is being used to explain, to take ahead an issue (here more as an organization mandate than the subject) it is difficult. But the creative journey is probably the responsibility towards the subject, the issue and the film, hopefully, would do justice to the same.

From one Khalid,came one Sheikh Mumtaz, a fifteen year old ragpicker who is a professional. He knows the tricks of the trade and speaks his mind. While I was surrounded by curious onlookers and interviewers I noticed one teenager dressed rather in the Bollywood gear of a well fitted shirt and denim and a bandana which is made of net material in red and has a golden border. From the conversation of what I was there for,it divulged to how it is a bane to live in Jahangirpuri. Irrespective of enough education,just the reference that one comes from this place is a reason for the person to be treated with no respect and almost like a criminal.
My first item number character, the same bandana boy is called Azizul reflects on why the people of the area are criminalized.
He almost replies like a politician whose byte one would not want to miss.
“ Hum kachra utthate hai apne haathon se, aur haath gande hai, aur policewalon ke hissab se har gande kaam ke peeche,gande haathon ka dhanda hai. Woh yeh bhool jate hai ke yehi gande haath estamal hota hai to khana banta hai,aur hum khana khate hai” (We pick waste and get our hands dirty and behind every crime there are dirty hands. Therefore the law keepers say that we are the law breakers. What they forget is these very hands make food,and these dirty hands feed moths).
Shaken by the idea, I got driven into a conversation with the Maulana. According to him,the media has always exploited the community. But he is sure we have noble intentions (and I wondered what made him feel so!). He promised cooperation from all ends.
Hijacked to Sadam ki chai ki dukaan (Sadam's chai shop) we talked about old memories of the place. The neighbourhood is a concern for all the young adults,more so for their offspring. The greed to earn money by waste picking and segregation and selling it cannot be substituted. Secondly the presence of the alcohol den near the school which irrespective of age and students adorning uniform would sell them alcohol is a menace forever. So the students would rather bunk school,pick waste,sell it,earn money,drink and go to nearby video stalls and watch blue films. Education is of least importance and quick money is all that everyone is interested in. The elders are worried and amazed how the several other business run thats detrimental to the society there. The law-keepers turn a deaf ear at this, on the other hand according to their records criminals inhabit the wasted land.

The quest continues in search of the story teller or maybe story tellers, the heroes of real life who are getting wasted amongst the waste.


....to be continued

Awaiting

I landed in the land of seven cities....
I walk by architectures....
I walk in and out of History.....
And I miss somethings,that is not my history but somethings...
There is no end to memories,but it is not memories
I walk with you all the time
I sit beside you in Breathe
I shiver at the sheer touch of ur hand
I talk with you in my mind
I hear your voice in my head
I see you with eyes wide shut
I sleep with you in my soul.