Don’t Breathe: Travelling Unreserved on the Indian Railways

Board a train, thrust your way through the crowd to some messy corner of a general compartment and you start losing your identity.

Board a train, thrust your way through the crowd to some messy corner of a general compartment and you start losing your identity.

The apparition of these faces in the crowd,
Petals on a wet, black bough.
∼ Ezra Pound, In a Station of the Metro

The inexorable spell of these two lines by Ezra Pound weighs upon me whenever I catch sight of a typically Indian scene crammed with people. The lines recycle themselves into visuals as I scratch around for the right frame to showcase my perception of the Indian reality, particularly when my camera chances upon the mess one finds so frequently in the unreserved general compartments of a railway carriage.

It is needless to remind ourselves that the lines have nothing characteristically Indian about them. Ostensibly, though, they depict the crowd in a station of the metro. The pen-picture of the “Petals on a wet, black bough” speaks clearly of a different clime. “The apparition of these faces in the crowd” of the first line, on the other hand, keeps haunting you even as you try to escape.

Travel the length of the country. Board a train, thrust your way through the crowd to some messy corner of a general compartment and you start losing your identity. One can safely predict a traumatic journey to the destination of absolute facelessness.

Ruthlessly robbed of your right to breathe, you are already there, sharing with the hapless masses the unbearable tightness of being – bearing with them the full burden of an inescapably Indian experience.

All images by Ronny Sen. 

Ronny Sen is a photographer based in Calcutta. He has published two books – Khmer Din (2013) and End of Time (2017) – and won the Getty Images Instagram Grant in 2016.

Photo Feature: The Struggle for Gorkhaland in Kalimpong

A look at the ongoing struggle for separate statehood in Kalimpong.

A look at the ongoing struggle for separate statehood in Kalimpong.

Police stand guard in Kalimpong.

Police stand guard in Kalimpong.

The century-old demand for Gorkhaland has regained momentum, this time when the government of West Bengal made Bengali one of the compulsory languages in the schools of Darjeeling and Kalimpong districts. As people started protesting about it, the situation quickly turned critical when CRPF personnel deployed in the hills started conducting raids in the houses of party activists, including chief of the Gorkha Janmukti Morcha Bimal Gurung. This made the crowd furious, which resulted in the ongoing indefinite strike in the hills. This time, the common people are leading the Gorkhaland movement, unlike other times when party leaders led the masses. As of now, six people have lost their lives and there is a ban on internet services and the local media.

The shields, batons and helmets of the police resting before the arrival of a mass rally.

The shields, batons and helmets of the police resting before the arrival of a mass rally.

The police watch as the mass rally of Gorkhaland supporters arrive.

The police watch as the mass rally of Gorkhaland supporters arrive.

Students return home from the boarding school after indefinite strike has been called in the hills of Kalimpong and Darjeeling.

Students return home from the boarding school after indefinite strike has been called in the hills of Kalimpong and Darjeeling.

People wait for the NBSTC ( North Bengal State Transport Corporation ) bus to travel to different places.

People wait for the NBSTC ( North Bengal State Transport Corporation ) bus to travel to different places.

Public speech by a party activist.

Public speech by a party activist.

Sabitri Giri, 56, a loyal party member of GJM, waving the national flag after a protest rally.

Sabitri Giri, 56, a loyal party member of GJM, waving the national flag after a protest rally.

A silent candle rally organised by the students of Kalimpong.

A silent candle rally organised by the students of Kalimpong.

A lady prays for the martyrs during the silent candle rally.

A woman prays for the martyrs during the silent candle rally.

A man arranges the candles after the silent candle rally.

A man arranges the candles after the silent candle rally.

The deserted street turns into a playground for the kids.

The deserted street turns into a playground for the kids.

Farmers brought agricultural tools into the protest to showcase their support towards the movement. The state and the media terming these ‘weapons’ was disrespectful to these traditional farmers.

Farmers brought agricultural tools into the protest to showcase their support towards the movement. The state and the media terming these ‘weapons’ was disrespectful to these traditional farmers.

A little boy cries while his mother rushes to get a seat in the NBSTC bus.

A little boy cries while his mother rushes to get a seat in the NBSTC bus.

A person's thoughts on the movement.

A person’s thoughts on the movement.

People gathered to watch the burning down of the Gorkhaland Territorial Administration ( GTA. ) Accord. The GTA Accord was signed on June 18, 2011 between the Centre, state and GJM

People gathered to watch the burning down of the Gorkhaland Territorial Administration ( GTA. ) Accord. The GTA Accord was signed on June 18, 2011 between the Centre, state and GJM

G.T.A. Accord burning.

GTA Accord burning.

A lady shouting slogans supporting the formation of a separate statehood of Gorkhaland.

A lady shouting slogans supporting the formation of a separate state of Gorkhaland.

A man praying for the unrest happening in the hills.

A man praying for the people in the hills.

Students lead the rally by shouting slogans in favour of the formation of a separate state of Gorkhaland.

Students lead the rally by shouting slogans in favour of the formation of a separate state of Gorkhaland.

Smoke ascends from a government office which was set to burn during protests.

Smoke ascends from a government office which was set to burn during protests.

The national flag flies in Kalimpong.

The national flag flies in Kalimpong.

Images and text credit: Brihat Rai. Brihat Rai is a Kalimpong-based photographer.

In These Portraits of Africans, an Unflattering Picture of India

Mahesh Shantaram’s photographs are a reaction to the injustices that people from Africa who live in India have to deal with every day.

Mahesh Shantaram’s photographs are a reaction to the injustices that people from Africa who live in India have to deal with every day.

Averlon & Petra, Zimbabwe / Jaipur,
2017 © Mahesh Shantaram
Archival pigment print
Courtesy Tasveer

Bengaluru: In seductive half-light, Mahesh Shantaram photographs India’s small but growing community of African migrants, a people who live in the shadows of our urban spaces. They lead lives of rigid separation from Indian society, where ignorance and prejudice are rampant. These expatriates must have super powers to ignore the persistent and cruel taunts – and worse – of the locals towards them, which can lead to “ending up dead on a bad day and losing face on a good one,” says Shantaram. He went to work photographing members of the roughly 50,000-strong community of Africans in India, here to work or study, after a Tanzanian woman was attacked by a mob in Bengaluru last year.

“People see my work and react with their own biases. For instance, a US publication – I won’t name which one – kept referring to my subjects as ‘refugees’. They are not refugees. They are here to work or study. There are others who say ‘why aren’t they smiling?’,” he says with exasperation and an eye-roll.

Most Africans in India lead lives of uncertainty, keeping strictly to themselves, while kitted out with sass, from well coiffured hair to pristine sneakers or sharp stilettos.

“We need to be more self-critical, have an open mind that is accepting of other cultures and re-evaluate our place in the world of nations. Instead, we are quick to mouth homilies about how India has been a tolerant culture for centuries. They came believing in an open society and a progressive environment in which they could study and prosper. We have repeatedly let them down,” says the Bangalore-based photographer.

Shantaram’s pictures were a reaction to Indian injustices towards a people who occupy squalid, poorly-lit homes in semi-legal or far flung neighbourhoods because of our legendary aversion to dark skin. When he names the cities this project took him to, it is always in quotes. In Bengaluru, they have been relegated to Soladevanahalli, a village barely within city limits, a place close to the airport but that is so far from anywhere it could well be another city. In Delhi, they once occupied Khirki Extension, a neighbourhood that was fairly central with excellent transport links, but due to mounting pressure from locals, politicians and government in the form of accusations of drug dealing, prostitution and even cannibalism, not to mention harassment resulting in increasing physical assaults, moved to a place in Chhatarpur called Rajpurkhurd, a place hardly anyone, except those who live there, knows. In Jaipur, most of his photographic subjects attend NIMS university. The institution is located right next to Achrol Gaon, where black people are not welcome so they live in the historic Amer village, far away from central Jaipur, where the fabulous Amer Fort is located. This is 35 kilometres away from the university and the only way to commute is on overcrowded Jeeps, often hanging off the back of them. His stoic African friends say they are used to travelling like this back home but are given a discount when they don’t get a seat.

Over time, Shantaram became very fond of this vibrant community – it is not hard to see why – that refuses to play victim. They are proud but humble, generous, devout, fashionable, articulate, kind, even bohemian. And like Indians and others around the world, some are sexually liberal while others are conservative,“Nobody really wants to let you take pictures so we’d spend hours together and not take pictures though I always had my camera with me. I don’t do the talking, just the listening. It’s a good process because they are otherwise so hidden. There is an artificial element of the exotic in meeting them, of course, because they have little access to our spaces and we hardly have access to theirs, which is unfortunate,” Shantaram says.

In Bengaluru, for instance, in 2009, says Shantaram, the restaurant owners’ association took the unanimous decision to not allow Africans into their properties. The dirty job of intercepting them landed with the security guys at the gates, with the ban remained in place until two-and-a-half years ago.

“Africans are seen as not having agency, the auqaat, to act in public environments or even speak against Indians when they feel wronged by them. Their problems are not theirs – these problems are a problem of Indianness and the Africans are just caught up in this shit. Africans just hold up a mirror to Indians who act in these petty and evil ways and show us who we really are.”

For Shantaram, African-ness needs to be celebrated in its everyday ordinariness, in the beauty and strength of lives lived under conditions of alienation and stress.

The pictures are posed and a few are conceptual.

Ameenou from Nigeria, Jaipur, 2016

Ameenou from Bauchi, Nigeria, © Mahesh Shantaram, Archival pigment print Courtesy: Tasveer

Ameenou, a masters student at NIMS, Jaipur lives a stone’s throw from the UNESCO World Heritage site, Amer Fort. Most of the  building where he lives is occupied by Muslim Africans who live 5-7 to a room and do not own cars. The owner of the building, also a Muslim, has cannily rented the parking lot to Amer’s mahouts, which explains the elephant in the picture. There is always a whiff of dung in the air.

Done with College, Bangalore, 2016

This was taken on my terrace when Davis, Hassan and Leon from Tanzania, Zambia and Rwanda respectively came visiting. It’s the end of their college course and the friends will soon part ways and return to their countries, to the destiny that awaits them. Credit: Mahesh Shantaram

Hassan (on the ledge) was one of the first to meet the photographer. He lived in the neighbourhood of the Tanzanian woman who was attacked in Bengaluru in February. Him and his friends were all setting off back to Africa – Zambia, Tanzania and Rwanda – and will probably not see each other again for a long time.

Helen confronts her past everyday, Jalandhar, 2016

Helen. Credit: Mahesh Shantaram

The daughter of a Zambian military officer, an articulate person, she was a boy when she came to study at Lovely Professional University. She hated living with the men and contemplated suicide. Finally, she gathered the courage to come out. She took asked her teacher to give her 15 minutes and talked about gender dysphoria in front of her class. She dropped out for not being regular at classes. Her parents would disown her for dressing like a girl. She had to go back home as a boy.

Arnold is Batman for the Congolese, Faridabad, 2016

Arnold is Batman to the Congolese. Faridabad, 2016. Credit: Mahesh Shantaram

Arnold frequently helps his fellow country people from the Democratic Republic of Congo who find themselves in tough situations in India.

Michel and his late brother, Olivier, Delhi, 2016

Michel is the brother of Olivier Kitanda, who was murdered on May 20, 2016, in Delhi. He has just completed his studies here and wants to leave the country as soon as possible. Credit: Mahesh Shantaram

Michel’s brother was killed over an argument for an auto – his head was smashed with a stone. A picture of him with the injuries went viral. It resulted in a diplomatic row a few days before Africa Day was to be celebrated in Rashtrapati Bhavan, with the African delegates pulling out of the the government of India-sponsored event.

 Mahesh Shantaram’s The African Portraits will be on view​ in New Delhi at Exhibit 320 from June 2-16, 2017.

Divya Guha is an independent Bangalore-based journalist.

Photo Feature: The Widows of Vrindavan

Shome Basu gives a glimpse of the daily life of the widows residing in Vrindavan.

Shome Basu gives a glimpse of the daily life of the widows residing in Vrindavan.

Widows at Vrinvan ashram - Glimpses of their daily life. By Shome Basu 20130202_0089

Glimpses of the daily life of the widows at the Vrindavan ashram. Credit: Shome Basu

Thrown out of their homes, these widows get to stay at a home in Vrindavan where they spend most of the time doing kirtan and begging. Many of them have been lured by their children and family into leaving their house to go to Vrindavan in the ‘name of God’.

With no money, these women – most of whom are from the hinterland – end up at the mercy of landlords who force them to beg and earning money. In return for the money they earn from begging, the landlords provide them with a minimum amount for their living.

About 6,000 widows are residing there, a majority of whom are from West Bengal.

The land of lord Krishna, Vrindavan is considered as a holy place for Hindus. But the conditions in which these women are forced to live shed light on how poorly they are treated by their families. No one knows why so many widows come here, but it has been so for centuries and no steps have been taken to stop this atrocity.

Shome Basu brings images from their daily lives to show the state of widows living in Vrindavan and how these old women are slowly crumbling in the so-called holy city.

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All images by Shome Basu.

Photo Feature: The Changpas Who Make Cashmere

The nomadic Changpas of Hanle Valley in Ladakh herd pashmina goats, live in high-altitude pasturelands and even retain old barter systems – but their ways of life are changing.

The nomadic Changpas of Hanle Valley in Ladakh herd pashmina goats, live in high-altitude pasturelands and even retain old barter systems – but their ways of life are changing.

Chanpas who make cashmere

Karma Rinchen is a goba or community elder. A goba must be wise, spiritual and experienced – he has all of these qualities. Courtesy: PARI

En route to Tso Moriri lake in Ladakh, the pastures are dotted with tents made of wool – these are the homes of Changpas, who herd Changthangi (pashmina) goats and are among the few suppliers of authentic cashmere wool of the finest quality.

The Changpas are nomadic pastoralists. Academic accounts state that they migrated from Tibet in the eighth century AD and came to the Changthang region in India – a western extension of the Tibetan Plateau, across the Himalayas. This area, located near the India-China border, is closed to foreign nationals and even Indians must obtain a special permit from Leh.

This photo essay documents the Changpas of Hanle Valley in eastern Ladakh. Around 40-50 Changpa families live here, according to their own estimates.

Hanle Valley is a vast and rugged area – the winter here is very long and the summer is really short. Due to the region’s hard soil, vegetation is scarce, and the nomadic Changpas move during the summers in search of green pastures, across fixed pasturelands in the valley allotted to them by the head of their communities.

I went to Hanle Valley in winter, in February 2015. After a long search, with the help of the villagers, I was introduced to Changpa Karma Rinchen. In the winter, the Changpas live a relatively sedentary life, so I went back in summer 2016. That August, after a two-day wait, Karma Rinchen finally showed up. The next day, he took me to his community’s summer grazing location, a three-hour drive from Hanle village.

Karma’s summer home was really high – at an altitude of 4,941 metres. It sometimes snows here even during the summer. I spent the next seven days with him and his family.  Karma, around 50 years old,  is a goba or community elder – four units of Changpa families report to him.  A goba must be wise, spiritual and experienced. Karma has all of these qualities.  “We love the nomadic life because it’s about freedom,” he said in a mix of Tibetan and Ladakhi.

The Changpas are Buddhists, and followers of the Dalai Lama.  Besides goats, they also keep sheep and yaks, and many still follow an old barter system, with various communities along a local network exchanging some of the goods they produce.

But the times are changing. Along the way, I saw an under-construction road that will ensure smoother movement for the Indian Army and the Indo-Tibetan Border Police – the road will alter the landscape. And, Karma said, 2016 was not good at all, “…because the cooperative society from Leh has not come yet to collect the wool. Perhaps that is because inferior quality and cheap cashmere wool from China is coming into the market.”

The Changpas 1

The Changpas live in tents known as rebos. To make a rebo, yak wool is spun into yarn by the families, then woven and stitched together. The material protects the nomads from the extreme cold and icy winds. The rebo is erected over a pit about two feet deep and held in place by wooden posts. A distinct family unit occupies each rebo

 

the changpas 2

A Changpa family stitching yak wool outside their rebo on a summer’s day. Most of their time is taken up by the same cycle of daily activities: herding, milking and shearing. In the middle stands Samdup, a little Changpa boy

 

the changpas 3

Yama and Pema busy making wool. Changpa women are experienced herders; younger women usually take the animals for grazing, while older women participate in milking and making dairy products. The men in the community also herd the animals, as well as shear them and sell the animal products

 

the changpas 4

In the past, the Changpas were polyandrous – multiple brothers married the same woman. But this practice has now nearly vanished

 

the changpas 5

The summer days are so busy that sometimes a lunch break is a luxury – so the Changpas settle for fruit or dried yak meat and a few staples made of barley

 

the changpas 6

Tenzin, a Changpa kid, collecting puffed rice from his father. In the past, little children were taught by their families to count the herds. But this way of life is rapidly changing and most of the Changpa children now go to school in eastern Ladakh

 

the changpas 7

Thomkay, a Changpa herder, gets ready for the day. Each herder spends around 5-6 hours grazing every day. The Changpas share a strong bond with their animals and go to great lengths to protect them

 

the changpas 9

Pashmina goats out for the day at high altitudes: through most of the year, the animals graze in pastures located at a height of more than 4,500 metres

 

the changpas 10

When the herds return after a full day of grazing, it is essential to count them and separate the female goats. Once this is done, the milking begins

 

the changpas 11

Some families, like Thokmay’s, milk goats as well as sheep. Milk and milk products like cheese are an important source of income or barter for Changpa families.

 

the changpas 12

Changpas are among the main suppliers of cashmere wool, which comes from the pashmina or Changthangi goat’s soft undercoat. This undercoat reaches its maximum length in winter, and the Changpas shear in early spring.

 

the changpas 13

Two Changpa women returning to their rebo after collecting shrubs like artemisia for fuel.

 

the changpas 14

At 4,941 metres above sea level, the summers are not quite warm –in Hanle Valley, it can snow or rain at any time of the day or night

This article was originally published in the People’s Archive of Rural India on Febraury 8, 2017 .

Photo Story: As UP Goes to the Polls, Muzaffarnagar Riot Victims in Kairana Camp Wait in Hope

A look at the lives of a few Muzaffarnagar riot victims living in a resettlement camp in Kairana.

A look at the lives of a few Muzaffarnagar riot victims living in a resettlement camp in Kairana.

Kairana story

Kairana: The bustling little town of Kairana in western Uttar Pradesh shot to the national limelight in June last year when its Lok Sabha representative, the BJP’s Hukum Singh, mooted his “Hindu exodus” hypothesis. Hukum, who allegedly played a catalysing role in the 2013 Muzaffarnagar riots, suddenly woke up from his political hibernation to claim that 346 Hindu families were forced to migrate out of Kairana because of the lawlessness perpetrated by Muslims.

It was later found that many of these families had either migrated out for work or had left the town years ago. Most people in the area said that the prevailing lawlessness in Kairana had misleadingly been painted in a religious light, giving rise to the suspicion that the saffron party might have attempted to polarise the electorate on religious lines ahead of the 2017 assembly polls.

Since then, the BJP has turned its “Hindu exodus” theory into one of its biggest poll issues, with it finding great prominence in the party’s election manifesto. If elected to power, the BJP says, it will stem this migratory tide. The saffron party has cleverly transformed this campaign into a mission to save Hindu women’s dignity.

Kairana goes to polls on 11 February. Hukum Singh eldest daughter, Mriganka Singh, is contesting the polls on a BJP ticket and is up against Samajwadi Party’s sitting MLA Nahid Hasan. The BJP, which has been going all out against its opposition for promoting dynastic politics, has had to face severe criticism for nominating Mriganka, who has barely done any political groundwork.

Amidst such punches and counter-punches, another story of mass migration and displacement has gone completely unnoticed.

In the aftermath of the Muzaffarnagar riots, thousands of families – mostly landless Muslim agricultural workers – fled from their homes, leaving behind their cattle and the little property they owned, to settle in at least 11 camps in the Muslim localities of Kairana.

We visited one such camp where about 300 such families stay. Some of them have been allotted one-room rooftops made by a philanthropic organisation while most of them still stay in half-torn tents made of poor-quality tarpaulin sheets.

A cloud of fear and trauma pervaded the air as the residents spoke.

“I will not go back even if I have to die here,” said Md. Haroon. Almost everyone said that they felt alienated after the riots. “I was living under constant fear that my family will be butchered, mu daughters will be raped. How can I possibly go back,” said Sabra Sayeed, a woman in her mid-forties.

For the residents, the last three years have been a daily struggle and yet they feel much safer here than their homes. This is their biggest irony.

Without any permanent incomes, men and women leave behind their children everyday to go to nearby cities to look for work. Most youngsters from these families have migrated to Delhi and Chennai for a living.

“On some good days, we find work. But on most days, we come back empty-handed. We have been asking the leaders to get us some permanent work but in vain, ” said Md. Yamin.

“One day in September 2016, I visited my village Nagla Pithora (in Muzaffarnagar district) in the dark of the night. They (the rioters) had left nothing. The roof was missing, the walls broken. Everything I had was burnt down. I saw only black soot in place of my pucca house,” said Faiyaz Ahmed.

Over the last three years, the residents have almost given up. They have become unnaturally comfortable in the camps, which has to weather the changing conditions of nature almost everyday.

“We can bear heat and cold but rain is the worst. The diseases spread due to water logging here. Many of our new-borns have died during monsoon,” said Sabra.

The UP government has made some quick-fix arrangements for them. It has arranged for a temporary school and two teachers for the children living in the camp a month ago. Two para-medical staff also visit once every week. But that does not say much as most of these residents stay outside the government’s glare.

Some of them have been given compensation by the UP state government but most have been left forlorn as they keep trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to fend for themselves.

Despite such acute conditions, the poll issues are different. While the BJP took off from a communal standpoint, the non-saffron parties look at these people as an insecure vote bank. In the space that lies between, the displaced riot victims try to bargain for the best they can get.

Photo Story: Singrauli’s Legacy of Tribal Displacement

Singrauli, a district in Madhya Pradesh, has seen widespread displacement of tribals whose rights are compromised in favour of mining.

Singrauli, a district in Madhya Pradesh, has seen widespread displacement of tribals whose rights are compromised in favour of mining.

Singrauli (1)

Jhingurdah Coal mine, oldest coal mine in India’s power capital Singrauli. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

Thousands of people in Singrauli have suffered recurring displacement due to industrial and infrastructural development. But for the first time, an entire town will be brought down for mining. The Coal Bearing Areas (Acquisition and Development) Amendment Act 1957 is threatening to wipe Morwa, a town in Madhya Pradesh, off the map. The Act has become the focal point of conversation in the region – be it hoteliers, residents or tribals, living on the outskirts of the town. Northern Coalfields Limited (NCL), a subsidiary of Coal India Limited, is set to acquire the entire town and ten adjoining villages under the Act, turning the area into a coal mine. It is situated at the heart of Singrauli, which is home to abundant reserves of power grade coal and is known as India’s energy capital. The town developed in the 1950s when rapid industrial development in the region displaced people by the thousands. They flocked to the eight villages in Morwa, and gradually the area mushroomed into a bustling township with 11 municipal wards and a population of 50,000.

Forest area inside NCL coal mine. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

Forest area inside NCL coal mine. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

In June 2016, local media first reported that ward number 10 of Morwa and eight villages dominated by the Gond and Baiga tribe would be acquired to expand the coal mines. The move would affect areas on the outskirts of the town and displace 400 families. According to Down To Earth magazine, “the ministry of coal issued two extraordinary gazette notifications under Section 4 of the Act for the acquisition of 19.25 square kilometres of area in two phases. This is an emergency provision that allows immediate takeover of land and will cover the entire town. The residents protested the takeover, claiming that the acquisition notice violated many legal provisions. As the Act allows the residents to file their objections within 90 days of the notice, they sent a letter to NCLin June. But NCL refused to even talk to them.”

 Inside the coal mine. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

Inside the coal mine. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

Sadly, the regions that are rich in natural and mineral resources often have a poor record in holding up human rights – suffering long histories of exploitation, deprivation and development-induced displacement of local communities so others can access those minerals. Singrauli is no exception.

Fly ash, the by-product of coal combustion directly mixes with air. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

Fly ash, the by-product of coal combustion directly mixes with air. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

In 1954, the construction for the Rihand Dam began, displacing 200,000 people from 146 villages in Uttar Pradesh and Madhya Pradesh. Many of them migrated to Morwa.

In 1973, the Special Authority Development Area, a municipal corporate body, was established in Singrauli to regulate the acquisition of land for future projects. It facilitated legitimisation of projects and pushed new development projects.

A village in the area. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

A village in the area. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

In 1977, the World Bank loaned US $150 million to the National Thermal Power Corporation for the construction of the first coal-fired power plant in the region. Around 600 families, already displaced by the Rihand Dam, were forced to move to Morwa.

In 1985, Northern Coalfields’ Dudhichua coal mine displaced about 378 people, mostly tribals.

A resident. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

A resident. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

From 2006 five super thermal power projects were undertaken by Dainik Bhaskar, Essar, Hindalco, Jaypee and Reliance, and were set up as private public partnerships. Around 4,047 hectares of land was acquired for mines and power plants, displacing more than 3,000 families in Singrauli. Some of these projects figure in the infamous coal scam, later cancelled by the Supreme Court in September 2014.

Facing displacement once again, Vinod Singh, a local hotel owner said, “We never support displacement – already we have a society here. Compensation rates under the Coal Bearing Areas Act are five times lower than market rate.”

Singrauli (18)

Vinod Singh. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

According to the Blacksmith Institute’s findings, “A widely cited but unpublished study by Electricité de France reveals that Singrauli’s thermal power plants release about 720 kilograms of mercury per year”. The UN cited an Indian Central Pollution Control board estimate that “17% of power plant mercury emissions are from the Singrauli region.” Fly ash, the by-product of coal combustion, is also a significant problem. The coal-burning power plants release about six million tons of fly ash a year, making land unfit for cultivation. In parts of Singrauli, the fly ash lies in piles five feet thick.

“Section 4 under Coal Bearing Areas (Acquisition and Development) Amendment Act, 1957 imposed in 11 wards and 8 villages of Singrauli Nagar Nigam on June, 2016. If this will be executed around 50,000 people will be homeless. We will face social and cultural loss. We want to stop this kind of land acquisition.” said activist Gauri Shankar Dubey.

Singrauli (17)

Gauri Shankar Dubey. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

Morwa today has five schools, three hospitals, a bus stand, a railway station and is a part of national highway 75E which runs through the town. Most people are employed in servicing nearby coal mines as workers or as transporters of mined coal and hotel owners cater to visiting NCL officials. But the same mines that have sustained Morwa until now will expand soon to swallow it completely.

“NCL gave me a land near the national highway but the highway authority did not allow me to build a home there. Again, I started live in NCL land though I don’t have any patta (documents). Nagar nigam asked for bribes – I gave them three thousand. Where will we go?” says Urmila Baiga, a member of Baiga community.

Urmila Baiga. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

Urmila Baiga. Credit: Tanmoy Bhaduri

“We will not give any land for mining, we have been  displaced since 1965 when the Jhingrudah mine opened. Then we got Rs 200-500 per acre. We made this land fertile. What will we eat if this land is acquired?” says an old tribal leader Roshan Singh Tekab from Jhingrudah village which is populated by the Gonds.

Tanmoy Bhaduri is a freelance photojournalist. 

Since Last We Met: Painting Agha Shahid Ali’s Couplets on Kashmir

“Here are a few couplets of mine that I had written keeping you in mind. I want you to paint them when you have the time.”

“Here are a few couplets of mine that I had written keeping you in mind. I want you to paint them when you have the time.”

Credit: Masood Hussain

Credit: Masood Hussain

Shahid – Agha Shahid Ali (February 4, 1949 – December 8, 2001) – and I met in the summer of 1997 when he was working on his celebrated collection of poems, The country without a post office. He wanted to use my relief work as the cover image for his book. The cord of similar thoughts, ideas and love for Kashmir that bound us in a deep friendship live on in my heart.

I clearly remember my last meeting with him in the summer of 2000 at his residence in Rajbagh in Srinagar. He was sitting on the veranda overlooking his garden, typing away on his electronic typewriter. After a couple of minutes, he handed me three sheets of paper, saying here are a few couplets of mine that I had written keeping you in mind. I want you to paint them when you have the time.

To my surprise, the couplets were about the beauty of Kashmir – they presented a contrast from the nature of our works which largely were a testimony to the ongoing turmoil in the Valley. These couplets gave me a feeling of hope at a time when there was none.

I kept the three sheets of paper safe in a file that was never far from me. Our last conversation, in 2001, was held across continents – he was in a hospital in the US where he was undergoing treatment for brain cancer and I was in Srinagar. I telephoned him to enquire about his health; he asked me to pray for him. The next news I received was of his departure from this world, on December 8, 2001.

Shahid’s seven couplets remained with me for years as an unfulfilled dream trying to find the right hues to manifest themselves. In the meantime, the feeling of hope that his couplets had kindled in me, found expression in a painting titled Hope, which, fittingly, was the concluding work of my series titled Resurrection of a time past. This series was exhibited in Delhi’s Art Heritage gallery in March 2005.

It took me 14 years to fulfil my friend’s wish. The thought of not being able to devote enough time for it burdened my heart for 15 long years. Finally, when I had completed the seven canvases, they came close to being destroyed by the 2014 flood, a fate suffered by many of my works. I kept this precious bundle, work born of the words written by Shahid years ago, in the only place the water would not be able to reach.

The wish of my friend is now fulfilled.

My friend, Kashmir still looks hauntingly beautiful to me, but every beautiful thing still reminds me of the misery and pain that never leaves us alone.

§

At the gates of paradise

Yes, that is where you are. Open them softly…and you see that you can multiply variety: what carvings, what intricate designs, what refinements of paisleys! Kashmir awaits you at its gates and only hospitality is our style…

∼ Agha Shahid Ali

Credit: Masood Hussain

Credit: Masood Hussain

In this painting, I have painted a red kani shawl flying in the sky, casting a dark shadow over the gates of paradise. The kani shawl depicts a craftsman’s lifetime of painstaking work that is clearly visible in their intricately woven designs. It is a fabric that has covered the wounds of Kashmiris for generations. Its red colour is symbolic of bloodshed, death and destruction.

§

Autumn refrain in Kashmir

What measureless measures, the colours of fire clinging to the chinars, to the reflections of chinars, to your eyes as from them you see the last grand crimsoned spillage…

∼ Agha Shahid Ali

Credit: Masood Hussain

Credit: Masood Hussain

The chinar tree, which has for long epitomised Kashmir, is one of its kind in grandeur, volume and height. It is almost as if these trees have been watching over the whole of Kashmir, witnessing our history since the age of the Muhgals. The crimson tinge of fallen leaves around the trunk spread out like a carpet, reminding me of a wounded man being dragged by someone on the leaves, leaving behind a trail of blood.

§

When it’s early winter

Such tinted distances that you can touch the shades that have disappeared till summer! The coming cold testifies to the earth’s fidelities, stronger here than anywhere else…

∼ Agha Shahid Ali

Credit: Masood Hussain

Credit: Masood Hussain

To paint on the theme of this couplet I was not content with the sketches of mountain ranges that surround our Valley. I also never imagined that there was much more to see beyond these ranges until I visited Gurez Valley in 2013. That visit, which needed special permission, made me feel as if I was a foreigner in my own land.

What I saw was huge pyramid-shaped mountain in the centre of Gurez Valley, with the tinted shades of mountain ranges behind it vanishing into the sky. The early morning sun that rose behind the mountain cast a strong reflection on the crystal blue river flowing in front of it, forming a perfect square, half in water and half in air. To me it seemed as if the four corners of the square have been witness to the four seasons since the days of the famous Kashmiri poetess Habba Khatoon – Nightingale of Kashmir – after whom this mountain has been named. The 16th century poetess is believed to have disappeared in this mountain looking for her lover Yousuf Shah Chak, ruler of Kashmir, who had been imprisoned by Emperor Akhbar.

I could not have envisaged a better subject for this painting. The red and orange shades that dominate at the foot of the mountain are symbolic of human intervention that has destroyed the delicate ecological balance of this valley by installing a power project in the area.

§

Deep January

Snow gleams as if a lover’s gaze has fallen to earth. How the season whitens! Even the evergreens are peppered with salt, and only love can take the place of the mountain.

∼ Agha Shahid Ali

Credit: Masood Hussain

Credit: Masood Hussain

The moon appears from behind the clouds, its strong light falling on the snow and isolated homes, making them glow with a yellow and orangey light. They somehow remind me of the shadowy gunmen crossing the snow covered fields surrounding these homes. Through a loudspeaker they demand that the residents, who are in deep slumber, assemble in the open field and sit on the crispy snow for an entire day, their feet numb with cold.

§

A mind of winter for the vale

Find the invincible summer in your heart when you, in the depths of winter, come to the slopes of the Vale where even gods have sought refuge…and then regard the frost and the pines crusted with snow.

∼ Agha Shahid Ali

Credit: Masood Hussain

Credit: Masood Hussain

In the deep winter months, humans – and their minds – are cocooned in deep slumber to blot out any violent noise and to protect themselves from the harsh iciness of their surroundings. The gods, too, seem to have done likewise, taking refuge in the lonely temples.

§

The blossoms return

Again, the festival of blossoms: first, the almonds, those ancestors of paisleys. And then? Hold your breath for the naricissi, the magnolias, the roses, the gladioli…

∼ Agha Shahid Ali

Credit: Masood Hussain

Credit: Masood Hussain

In a perpetually snowbound state it may appear to be wishful thinking on my part, and on the part of millions of others like me, to raise our eyes heavenwards and pray that the long winter which has chilled us for so long, makes way for the fragrance of spring to spread far and wide – the fragrance of hope and of peace.

§

The elements conspire

They conspire so that someone, on the shores, awaits the vendor of flowers. And the other side of earth awaits Kashmir’s sun, its message that water and fire are at peace.

∼ Agha Shahid Ali

Credit: Masood Hussain

Credit: Masood Hussain

‘So that someone, on the shores, waits…’ I see the long wait, from sunrise to sunset, of the shikara walas, who return home disappointed every day as there are no tourists to take around or sell bouquets to. The shikaras parked on the shores of the Dal Lake seem to give a misleading impression of calm in a world that has long been burning.

Photo Essay: Scenes of Grief and Devotion From Jayalalithaa’s Public Viewing

The day of the public viewing saw enormous crowds gather to catch a final glimpse of their beloved Amma and also capture the frenzy on their cellphones.

The day of the viewing saw enormous crowds gather to catch a final glimpse of their beloved Amma and also capture the frenzy on their cellphones.

On 4th December, after mixed reports from TV channels, AIADMK party workers celebrate the statement that their leader was still alive. Credit: Gayatri Nair

Mayhem occurred as soon as rumours of Jayalalitha’s death spread like wildfire on the evening of December 4, 2016 . Supporters gathered at the AIADMK office to show their solidarity. The news of her sudden cardiac arrest and her critical condition created panic in the state, especially in the capital city, in spite of her being hospitalised for over two months. Credit: Gayatri Nair

 

Supporters outside Jayalalithaa's home. Credit: Maveeran Somasundaram

Jayalalitha supporters got emotional for their beloved Amma (Mother) near her residence at Poes Garden, Chennai. The area was cordoned off as soon the official announcement of her death was made. People moved quickly from Apollo hospital, where she had been admitted for treatment for the last two months, to Poes Garden in the middle of the night, just to get a glimpse of her. Credit: Maveeran Somasundaram

 

Jayalalithaa's casket. Credit: Shuchi Kapoor

Fondly known as Amma and also as the Iron Lady of Tamil Nadu, Jayalalithaa was an iconic politician in Dravidian politics and a former film star known for her feminism and tightfisted control. Her casket was buried next to her mentor MGR’s off Marina beach in Chennai. The burial is also considered to be a departure from her Brahminical roots. Credit: Shuchi Kapoor

 

Sasikala, Jayalalitha's closest aide. Credit: Shuchi Kapoor

Sasikala, Jayalalitha’s closest aide, stuck firmly by the chief minister’s body during the public viewing at Rajaji Hall in Chennai. She was like family to Jayalalithaa and is now speculated to be the next general secretary of the AIADMK, even though she has not held any formal position before. Credit: Shuchi Kapoor

 

A staunch Jayalalitha supporter wears an Amma ring made in gold. Credit: Shuchi Kapoor

A staunch Jayalalitha supporter wore an Amma ring made in gold. Most of her supporters are known to be obsessed with her image and carry personalised mementos of her. Jayalalithaa’s politics was also one of dominance and self-promotion – the vast number of billboards and life-size signages of her, stickers of her face on schoolbags and other freebies donated by her government, even on rice sacks that were distributed during the floods were widely noted and criticised as well. But Jayalalithaa’s charm created a strong support base that doesn’t just idolize her, but worships her. Credit: Shuchi Kapoor

 

Police struggled to control crowds. Credit: Gayatri Nair

Chennai and Tamil Nadu grieved the loss of their beloved chief minister. Many publications claimed the state was orphaned by the loss of their Amma. There was a near stampede as huge crowds thronged to get a last glimpse of her as her body was kept at Rajaji Hall for public viewing in Chennai. Credit: Shuchi Kapoor

 

Police had a tough time controlling the crowd and had to, at times, resort to lathi charges to control the hordes of supporters who wanted to get a closer look at their mother-like chief minister. The conspicuous absence of women in the crowd, whose upliftment was one of Jayalalithaa's primary agendas, was a bit surprising.

Police had a tough time controlling the crowd and had to, at times, resort to lathi charges to control the hordes of supporters who wanted to get a closer look at their mother-like chief minister. The conspicuous absence of women in the crowd, whose upliftment was one of Jayalalithaa’s primary agendas, was a bit surprising. Credit: Gayatri Nair

 

While Chennai seemed like a ghost town with uncharacteristically empty roads, the day of the public viewing saw enormous crowds gather to catch a glimpse and capture the frenzy on their cellphones, including the policemen as seen here. Perhaps the delayed formal announcement of Jayalalithaa's demise abated the intensity of people's emotional response towards the unfortunate event, but it was surprising to see people more concerned with taking photographs than their sense of grief. Credit: Shuchi Kapoor

While Chennai seemed like a ghost town with uncharacteristically empty roads, the day of the public viewing saw enormous crowds gather to catch a glimpse and capture the frenzy on their cellphones, including the policemen as seen here. Perhaps the delayed formal announcement of Jayalalithaa’s demise abated the intensity of people’s emotional response towards the unfortunate event, but it was surprising to see people more concerned with taking photographs than their sense of grief. Credit: Shuchi Kapoor

 

A supporter reacts emotionally as soon as he gets a view of his beloved Chief Minister, J Jayalalitha as her body is put in the casket and is being taken to be put at rest at Marina beach. Credit: Shuchi Kapoor

A supporter reacted emotionally as soon as he got a view of his beloved chief minister, Jayalalitha as her body was put in the casket and taken to be put at rest at Marina Beach. Credit: Shuchi Kapoor

 

Enormous crowds at public viewing. Credit: Shuchi Kapoor

Huge crowds gathered at Rajaji Hall to bid adieu to their chief minister who passed away on December 5, 2016, in Chennai. J. Jayalitha (19478-2016) will continue to remain one of the most iconic women in Indian politics, whose struggle cannot be disregarded in spite of the corrupt tag that she carried. Credit: Shuchi Kapoor

 

Huge crowds gathered at Rajaji Hall to bid adieu to their chief minister who passed away on December 5, 2016, in Chennai. J. Jayalitha (19478-2016) will continue to remain one of the most iconic women in Indian politics, whose struggle cannot be disregarded in spite of the corrupt tag that she carried. Credit: Gayatri Nair

Huge crowds gathered at Rajaji Hall to bid adieu to their chief minister who passed away on December 5, 2016, in Chennai. J. Jayalitha (19478-2016) will continue to remain one of the most iconic women in Indian politics, whose struggle cannot be disregarded in spite of the corrupt tag that she carried. Credit: Gayatri Nair

Photo Feature: Life in Ayodhya, 24 Years After the Babri Masjid Demolition

The gentle rhythms of the religious town of Ayodhya continue as they have for millennia.

Ayodhya

The gentle rhythms of the religious town of Ayodhya continue as they have for millennia. It is a sleepy little town, where life slows down to a halt by dusk. Nobody stopping by would guess that this place was the epicentre of an upheaval that rocked India just 24 years ago, when frenzied Hindutva mobs demolished a 400-year-old mosque claiming that it was the birthplace of Ram. The scene of that destruction, that changed the country forever, is now sealed off pending a Supreme Court judgement on what will be built there, but the topic is never far from discussion, and not always in a constructive way. Security is visible, to ensure that matters don’t get out of hand. Shome Basu brings images from Ayodhya that remind us that the past is always with us in the present.

Ayodhya

Ayodhya

Ayodhya

Ayodhya

Ayodhya

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All images by Shome Basu.