Protesting Rape in New Delhi

Running away from tear-gas (the smoke that you see).

Tens and thousands of protesters with placards lined up the avenue from India Gate to the Rashrapati Bhavan, all the news channels reported, to demand justice for the gang-rape of a 23 year old in a public bus who is still in a critical condition at a hospital in Delhi. The politicians, the law enforcers, and the public, for once seemed to be on the same page in terms of condemning the brutal attack. I had to see it for myself for this, I felt, was a sign of a progressive India that would not stand for such heinous crimes.

Yes, there probably were about a hundred thousand people there, may be more.  It was heartening to see so many people out on the streets. The news channels called it the largest protest against rape in Delhi.

The warm fuzzy feeling in my heart subsided soon. Here is why:

Damper 1: Blood Lust

One of the many lamp-posts "occupied" by protesters.

Alongside the cries of “We Want Justice!” were the following slogans and placards:

-          Rape the Accused

-          Hang the Rapists

-          Goli Maro Saloko (Shoot the bastards)

-          Delhi Police Ek Kam Karo, Churiya Pehenke Dance Karo (Delhi Police do one thing, wear bangles and dance)

-          An Eye for an Eye – So, what for Rape?

-          Yes it is another story. It has to be the last story. Only Death Sentence

-          Law for Rapist – Hang till Death. Or no Vote.

-          Capital Punishment is not a Solution. Make the accused rapists suffer Castration.

-          We want Justice for the Innocent. Hang them to death.

While you could probably find a few who were against capital punishment, the popular demand of the day was for death, along with some sexist chants about effeminate policemen. They all seemed to be out for blood.

Damper 2: Aggressive Policemen

The protesters were out for blood, yes, but all they were doing was chanting and marching up and down. There were some who were trying to break down a barricade that the police had set up, but largely it was a peaceful protest. Yet, the policemen that surrounded the Presidential Palace felt the need to use tear gas and water cannons on the crowds. If the crowds were unruly, it was only in situations where people tried to escape the police attacks.

I was surprised. I could not understand why the police would behave this way. Do people not have the right to protest in democratic India? At a time when state officials spoke along the same lines in terms of condemning the rape, why do the state representatives on the ground (aka the police) behave differently?

Damper 3: Gnawing Questions

1. If Delhi is the Rape Capital, why was this the first time that people came out on the streets in such large numbers? “Because it could’ve been me,” said a friend. And that is the harsh reality. When a rape takes place in a capital city, in a public bus, to an urban, middle-class woman, people identify with it and they protest. There is no such empathy for rapes that occur in rural areas and slums, for Dalit rape victims, for adivasi rape victims, rape victims in Kashmir or in Chhattisgarh. So, perhaps there will be some justice in this case, but rape will probably still go on.
2. To what extent was this rape a product of “neoliberal India”? This was a case of poor fruit vendors and petty salesmen raping a middle-class woman. Were they reacting to the woman or to the system that creates these harsh inequalities in such a brutal fashion? Has the system, by focusing on economic wealth only, neglected those who were left behind, who can only find expression in such unimaginably cruel acts?

There is a silver lining, however: Today, the whole of India seems to be against rape. That may not be good enough, but it is a start; a start to understand that rape is not only about individual responsibility, but also about social responsibility.

 - Saturday, December 22, 2012

The New India

When I went to India as part of the "Group of 27" in January, I had wondered whether the India we were experiencing was the "real" India as we tried to grapple with its many contrasts – the fancy hotels adjacent to slums; the 'mega' malls next to makeshift tea-stalls; the Mercedes-Benz riding alongside a bull-cart. In our attempt to understand the essence of India, we rode the metro, cycle-rickshaws, and auto-rickshaws, we shopped in crowded bazaars, bargained with road-side vendors, drank tea at rudimentary tea-stalls, and ate at road-side dhabas.  Even then, many of us came back to the US feeling that we did not mingle enough; that our presence was a bit 'imperial'.

This time, unaccompanied by my American colleagues, I wondered what would happen. And now that I am here, I am somewhat overwhelmed by all the glitz. I realize that as absurd as it may sound, my experience in January was one where I saw more of the "99%", if you will. Here are some examples:

·        Last time, the fanciest store we saw was Fabindia – a socially responsible local clothes store. This time, all the malls I've been to are much like the malls in the US, with even the same retail stores. From Puma and Diesel to KFC and Chilis, neo-liberalized India has it all!

·        This time, several people made comments to the effect "money is not an object", "money is not an issue" during conversations/negotiations, something I admit I only heard in movies till now. Some lessons in humility, perhaps?

·        Last time, we didn't get a good sense of the difference that caste makes. Perhaps I didn't look at the right place. The 5-page "matrimonial" section of the weekend edition of the Times of India not only highlights the importance of caste, but also class. The different ads are classified according to the key desirable criterion: Brahmin, Khatra, Aggarwal, Bisa Aggarwal, Sikh, and so on (I have to admit that I don't know what some of these even mean: what does it mean to be an Aggarwal?).  Most are accompanied by phrases such as "high status and respectable business family desirable". Invariably, the ads are placed by "extraordinarily beautiful, slim, and fair" women and "well-qualified, clean-shaven, handsome" men who are engineers/NRIs.

·        Last time, I didn't realize that Delhi wasn't a "safe place for women". Also, in some ways, being surrounded by white Americans had its advantages: no one would dare harm a foreigner (read white foreigner).  This time, I have to be more careful about what I wear and how I look. To add to the worries, the Chief Minister stated that "women should not dress provocatively" (ah, if a mullah had said this, all hell would've broken loose).

Jewbiquity

Early in the trip, we went to Auroville, a utopian community started by a woman called The Mother to live by the teachings of a sage by the name of Sri Aurobindo. Sri Aurobindo was educated in Great Britain, but later renounced his active life and settled in Pondicherry. He died in the early 1950s. His spiritual companion, the Mother, led the community and supervised the building of the shrine you see here.

Processing

Like many of my fellow travelers, I imagine, I have spent the days since we landed re-acclimating, trying to right a wayward stomach, to persuade my circadian rhythm of the fact of Eastern standard time. Many times the past few days I have been awake when I ought to have been asleep (and vice versa, of course) and it is in these waking moments that I have given the India trip my most sustained thought. Much of the thought has been intellectual, but some of it has been purely visceral. I have felt profound relief and gratitude opening the tap and drinking the clean Hamilton water.

If potable water seems a luxury, all the more so a pantry full of food and a warm house whose construction has long been complete. A stable internet connection—something that eluded me the entirety of the trip—seems positively decadent.

Taj Mahal: Where Love and Death Meet

It is difficult to write something about Taj Mahal that has not been said already. Anyone who has been there knows that the photos and the postcards barely do any justice to this magnificent monument. It is something that must be experienced, not just viewed.

The only parallel I can draw is this: it is the same kind of sensation as you look up at the falls from the Maid of the Mist at Niagara Falls. The difference is that at Niagara Falls, there are two falls; the wonder of the Taj Mahal is really a series of wonders.

As you enter the first gate, you can’t see the Taj; its dome quietly enters the visual space as you move towards the main gate: the gates of paradise. If heaven could be on earth, it would look like Taj Mahal.

As the structure with the four pillars, with the pool in front and the mosques (one real, one a façade) on the two sides mirroring each other confronts you, you are transported into, yes, paradise! You can only gape in wonder as you move closer and realize how intricate the details on the structures are, how symmetrical the entire composition is, and how much effort, resources, and love must have gone into building it.

Apparently, the popular story about Shahjahan building this as a symbol of love for his wife Mumtaz is a myth; instead, it is for self-aggrandizement. Even if that may be the case, today it is certainly a place where lovers become starry-eyed, and irrespective of whether the true intentions had anything to do with the pain of lost-love, the Taj Mahal has become a monument of love. Yet, it is difficult not to think about mortality. Why do we wait until someone dies to really appreciate that person, and yes, build a monument in her honor?

If you have been able to keep thoughts of mortality at bay until now, you will no longer be able to as you reach the last gate, the gate through which you enter the tombs. The beautiful Arabic calligraphy reads something akin to “get prepared to meet your maker”. It serves as a quick reminder that death is perhaps the only thing in life that you can take for granted. “That and taxes,” as Eliza Kent said.

Food for Thought: How can we reconcile the anti-idol-worshipping stance of Islam with shrines that appear to do just that?

Photo: The Gate of Paradise by JKlein

Roads and the bus ride

I am terribly behind in blogging--between sporadic internet and just no time! So I will add these thoughts from two days ago...

Monday was a strange day for many reasons. First–and this not be overlooked in judging my reactions to what follows–is that it was long. We arrived at the hotel from the airport at 5am, jet-lagged and exhausted (always a bad combination!); most of us were down for breakfast by 10am.

Day 1 reflections

Image via Wikipedia

After arriving in Chennai, India, formerly known as Madras at 5 am yesterday morning (Monday 2nd January) after almost two days of travel, it was time to get moving to explore parts of this wonderful country. It is needless to say that I did not get much sleep last night. I am still jet lagged and I am sure I will be paying for this later today. 


Read more here: From Chennai to Pondicherry

The Journey Begins

Here is the first short clip of the journey from Hamilton to India. You can also find it on YouTube.

April Baptiste

Glorious plants

We have only been in India for six hours and I have already seen about 20 species of plants-both the familiar (Ficus, Eucalyptus, Caeselpinia) and unfamiliar.

There is a lovely garden that attracts parrots, flycatchers, the overly familiar grackle and lots of snails. I have my binoculars ready for botanizing and birding from the bus (on our way to Ponducherry)...although it is very likely that I will be fast asleep.

Day before Departure

Having a developing country background I am always excited to see other " third world" nations. Trinidad and Tobago has a dynamic south Asian ancestry and so for me, this is a great opportunity to visit one of the main countries that has a large diaspora of the Indian sub continent. Will the food be similar, will the phenotypes be similar? Will I feel at home in a new land or will I feel disconnected? As I prepare for India lots of things are going through my mind.  What will I see? How will I react? Will I handle the poverty? What are the environmental concerns?


Suitcases packed - Checked
Immunizations, Passport and Visa - check...
Rupees - check....

All set to go!!! !

how many trees does it take to gobble up 15,000 miles of carbon?

In just 12 days I will be boarding a jet at JFK International Airport, bound for India.  As we lift off from New York, there will be a lot of things on my mind about the trip---what will we see? what will we eat? when do we get to meet Aishwarya Rai?  Finding out the answers to these questions is going to be an amazing adventure.  But there is one question I have already figured out: what is the "carbon footprint" of sending 27 Colgate faculty to the other side of the world, and back?

Twelve Days until Departure

As you’ll know from the title of this blog, Colgate University is sending twenty-seven of its faculty members to India for two weeks in January in order to “enrich the Core curriculum.” I am one of the lucky twenty-seven, and I confess to being utterly daunted.

India and the utopian sprit

The Fall semester’s planning has been interrupted by a series of stimulating conversations that give a foretaste to what we have to look forward to in India: a series of discussions of the Mahabharata and the Bhagavad Gita with the Core 151 faculty, a performance by Bharatanatyam dancers, Vijay Palaparthy and Nalini Prakash (Vijay was a student of Bill Skelton, an extraordinary Colgate professor who led generations of students to Chennai on Colgate’s India Study Group), and a discussion of Aravind Adiga’s Booker-award winning novel, The White Tiger.