Killed and hushed up...as we speak

Am not talking of India alone. There is a feudal world operating out there, that deems women as mere machines that produce kids...nay `sons'. God decided to create man and woman. A lot of men decide to create only `men', and initiate a mindset among their women for that too. If women get lucky to be born, they make sure those women are killed, inside the womb, outside the womb, on the roads, in buses, at homes, others' homes...anywhere. They are killed, in the name of `burden', in the name of God, in the name of money, in the name of `caste', class, `honour', `shame', love, hate....just about everything.

My friend Hema, who is an incredibly brave woman herself, chased the following story for a whole year, because villagers would not talk. Hats off to her persistence. The woman in me cries at these brutal murders.

Here is the link to her piece that appeared in Vijaya Karnataka
http://vijaykarnataka.indiatimes.com/articleshow/17364714.cms

Here is the translation:

Born to die...lost in the woods

H. Hemalatha

“Akka, this time too it is a girl…whatever we did, the child did not die…we left it near the ant hill…’’ said a woman casually. For a moment, the women who were pulling out weeds in the turmeric field froze.

A barely audible sigh emanated from them. When they heard a loud voice demanding to know why no work was going on, their working hands resumed their activity again…pulling out weeds.

This is not a new in Sundaralli, Martalli, Jaageri, Koodluru, Kavalli, P.J. Palya, Raamapura and many other villages in Kollegal taluk of Chamarajanagar district.  Killing of baby girls. It is an open secret.  In many villages of Kollegal taluk, female infanticide has been going on incessantly for decades.  If you go in search of such people or incidents, no one will give you a straight answer.

Try rephrasing the `killing’ question, and Jeevika (name changed) says, ” What can one do? There are no girl children in our village….they die soon after birth….they are fine one day and gone the next….if one girl child is born, they rejoice.  The second girl child is also somehow tolerated; if the third is also a girl, they do not let it live, they kill the child.  They kill it with a hammer or something else.  They take it to the fields and bury it there.”

Before Jeevika says anything else, the others in the group try to hush her up.  They feel it is none of their business. They do not want to be caught on the wrong foot, if things went awry.

The first born of Sonam who lives in Martahalli is a girl.  At the time of birth of her second child, she waited with bated breath to know the child’s sex.  The minute she knew it was a girl, she burst into tears. When asked why she cried, she said, ``If all the children are girls, where will we get the money to take care of them? Feeding them is itself a big task, can one educate them? We need money for their marriage too.  If we think of the difficulties that lie ahead, I feel this is far better,” wiping her tears, implying the baby will get killed.

‘Which mother would want her child to die? If we say we want a girl child, they will throw us out. If I do not listen to my mother-in-law and husband, can I live? Many times, we do not know what they do or how they do it,” she wailed, helpless.

Both the men and women work.  Half the household earnings get thrown into the drinking habit of men.  Not only do they spend their money, they snatch away money from wives too.  Physical abuse is common.  Running a household is extremely difficult. 

When these women are asked if they would want to keep the child, they look vacantly into space; silence is their answer. When the same issue is raked up, the woman rues, ``Will we be able to live if we oppose family? All are our people, there are not outsiders. How can we speak against them? It is not possible.” 

Walking around these villages, we mostly see groups of boys moving around. There are no girls to be seen.

The village women say, “We do not get brides for our boys. We go to Shira, Tumkur to find brides.  Our children say that if we keep killing all the girl children, it is obviously going to pose problems when boys want to get married”. 

“That there are no girls available for marriage is proof enough for the existence of female infanticide and foeticide since decades.  If a girl child is born, the child is taken home, much against our wishes, within two hours of being born.  Often, the new mother comes alone for the check-up. This should be questioned.  The new mother says that the child died all of a sudden.  This is infanticide, but it cannot be proved, we are helpless,” says the doctor at the Primary Health Centre. 

Through the National Rural Health Mission scheme, many deliveries are conducted at the primary health centre.  Such killings happen in spite of Asha workers and NARs regularly visiting and keeping an eye on pregnancies.

“On village visits, we talk to people.  We explain to them about the facilities provided for the girl child.  We threaten them saying that infanticide is punishable by law.  The killings have come down in number compared to few years before. But they have not stopped completely.  We should cleverly convert them to our way of thinking.  Else, they will not even let us anywhere near the villages,” says a health worker from Palya.

Literacy levels have significantly increased in the State, to to 75.60%.  The 33% reservation women has ensured that in villages and village Gram Panchayats, there are women members.  But, there are not many, even among those women whose infants meet their end, who raise their voice against this practice of murdering girls. 

While going around these villages, you see a population that does not view infanticide as a crime, let alone an offence.

How do they do it?

Generally, an elderly woman kills the girl child. The infant is fed with some powdered seeds, by mixing paddy grains in oil, throttling the child with a rope, wrapping it in damp cloth and exposing it to cold weather, and so on. 

Often times, the half-dead children are left near ant hills, buried in the fields and thus silently finished off. They take care to see that people outside the house are not aware of the child’s delivery. They go to great lengths to make everything look normal.  Many families where such killings have taken place, have gone off to Tamilnadu. Once time has passed enough and faded public memory, they return to their villages.

Where have all the girls gone?

When you calculate the gender ratio of children below six years of age in Chamarajanagar district, there has been a significant decrease.  For 48,854 boys, there are only 46,005 girls.  In the 2001 census, for every 1000 boys, there were 964 girls.  National level statistics show that  a decade back, if there 927 girls for every 1000 boys, today, there are 914 girl children. 

From 1991, though there has been an increase in the gender ratio, as far as the 0-6 age group is concerned, census reports sa that since 1961, the number of girl children has steadily decreased. 

What does the law say?

Femal infanticide was banned in the 19^th century.  In 1805, among the Jadeja clan of the Saurashtra Rajputs, it was seen that there was an increase in female infanticide.  In 1808, there were no girl children in a village in Uttar Pradesh.  The chief officer of Baroda, Alexander Walker called a meeting of the village elders, and made them sign a letter admitting their guilt in continuing the practice of female infanticide, and that they would not do it henceforth.  In 1870, a law prohibiting female infanticide was passed by the British Government.  In 1898, this was considered a crime. 

The Indian Penal Code considers infanticide, homicide.  All the laws that are applicable to homicide apply to these cases too.  Section 318 says keeping the birth of a child secret and secretly burying the body is a punishable offence. 

Table: There has been a significant decrease in the female:male ratio in seven districts.  Chamarajanagar leads the statistics on this front. (based on Census reports)

Districts	2001	2011	Percentage of decrease
Chamarajanagar	964	942	-      22
Davanagere	946	931	-      15
Raichur	964	949	-      15
Chitradurga	946	939	-      13
Haveri	957	945	-      12
Bagalkot	940	929	-       11
Yadgir	952	942	-      10

The last word

Female infanticide takes place in other parts of the world too. In Arab countries and China, this is more in number.  During 200 BC, the practice of female infanticide was so rampant that among the 6,000 families that lived in Delphi, less than 1 percent of people had two girl children, according to the political sociologist, R.J. Rumel, who has mentioned this in his book “Death by Government”. 

Come to think of it, perhaps Goddess Seeta escaped infanticide as a child – Janaka finding her buried in a pot in the ground. 

Attempts at saving girl children do get reflected in an incident at Ramapura of Kollegal district about 10 months ago.  When a young couple who had come to the Primary Health Centre of Ramapura had their fourth girl child, they urgently packed up to return home from the hospital. 

The doctor, who was aware that female infanticide took place in these parts, got alert and advised the young couple against it.  Simultaneously, the doctor alerted the Child Welfare Committee of the District. Members of the Committee rushed to the sport and counselled the couple. 

“Even after talking to them for more than an hour, they insisted that they be sent home.  Finally, the mother said that they did not want the child.  We convinced them that if they did not need the child, they should not harm it, but hand it over to us.  We got the child and have left it in the child care centre.  We have the satisfaction of saving the life of a girl child,” says Lochana, the President of the Chamarajanagar Child Welfare Committee. 

Backyard heaven

The last time `backyard' meant heaven, was in my ammumma's home at Chromepet Chennai. Yesterday, seven years after her home vanished to realtor monstrosity, I found a backyard heaven.

But for that, I had to do something I hadn't done before.

``Don't go into the woods,'' warned my husband before he left for a pre-hurricane errand, when I got ready with my camera to get some Fall pictures of trees near home. For long after a friend tipped me off on the woods behind our community, I wanted to venture out there. The trouble: we also get warned about not going out after dark, for fear of being mugged. And this, in our own community!

Somehow, the fear of being mugged or attacked is so pervasive. Irrespective of, whether such things happened near you that is. We do pay heed to warnings, because we do not know this community as much as people who lived here do.

I moved out anyways, steeling myself slowly to break that inner barrier, even if it meant I would get close to danger. What if the woods are really dense? What if I get lost?

First set of pictures were from outside my door, and I moved further to the edge of our community - the point where the last set of cars got parked, and the woods began. Wow! What a sight!

This was ditto the feeling from the trip to Bear Mountain! Never thought backyards could be so picturesque! So straight out of those picture postcards and magazine spreads! They did not even look as dense as I thought they would be! I noticed two young boys chatting up in the car park. Warning beats begin.

I continued with more pictures - of leaves, colours, barks that went up into sky...the two dispersed, and one of them walked into the woods. Really? In this cold? I thought.

My neighbour had spoken about a children's park existing on the other side of the woods.

``It takes five minutes inside the woods. Don't go when it's getting dark,'' she said. Five minutes is no big deal. But big when you've not set foot outside home in a while on your own, and when you've been warned so explicitly by fellow Indians. That was in the end of summer when my health was down, which was, a month back. The thought of these colours drew me in and won over.

I step out when it's warm afternoon sun anyways. And sun, has become a rarity at that, with daylight vanishing as quickly as it came.

I decided to get a few steps into the woods. And walk back if it was too eerie. A little further. And further. I saw another kid cycling in the woods. What? Was there really so much space? To cycle?

The next thing I realised -  roads in the woods! I laughed inside. At myself. An adventure dead.

Nothing left to explore! A road ran parallel to the community edge or compound. Another connected the community to the park. The walk was a super self-treat.

Yellow and brown leaves strewn all over. Varying shades of leaves on their way to the earth, lovely different hues of green against the burnt sienna, grey-green and pale blue sky...

I could actually see the park from the apartment community end of the woods. And a family or two making their way to or from the park.

I went further. And click away to glory. 

Midway into the woods, I find a carpet of leaves which were strewn everywhere including here, but not on the ground. They fell like feathers on a fresh water stream and floated on it. So deceptive you would step on the `carpet' and go down if not careful.

Look close below. Does it look like a stream? Or simply a layer of brown leaves?

It's two streams converging into one.

The park was another delight. A grill party was on at the children's play area. To my left on reaching there, was a basketball court, busied up by kids. Just the kind of place you want to throw away your footwear in, stretch out on the grass and let your hair loose. Or run your fingers between leaves and grass. Or simply play with dry leaves that crush under your shoes. Left to me, I would carry a book to the place and stretch out on a bench to be lost in words.

A few steps on to my right was a set of three tennis courts.

The real treat was the trees and their leaves. Flower bouquets in golden tints. Reds and yellows are for Autumn as pinks and whites are for Spring.

Here it is, another view of the park, nestled in calming green.

Want some romantic quiet? There's room for that too! I've always dreamt of a space to drown in a book, surrounded by trees and feeling safe. I've loved the idea of spending time with my partner or some friend for a chat in such environs too.

And what a pleasant feeling it is, to see that happen!

Such spots are common to any picnic-worthy area out here in the US. Wish we had them in India too!

Content with having spent an early Saturday evening in such superb company, I walked back home slowly, madly clicking the woods on my journey back. Watching and soaking in the colours at every step.

The real dream came true on my way back. Just what would you do, if you came face to face, with  a creature you love, but find only in zoos?

I missed clicking pictures of it on earlier occasions - either I did not have the camera on hand, or it was too far for a click. So this time, my hands worked super speed. Sports Mode on Nikon. Whew!

Here it is! A genteel deer!

I may put up more pictures of this one, in Cerebral Toothbrush. Meanwhile, am bracing up for Sandy, the super Hurricane! And keeping fingers crossed on the power-cuts front. Pray. Pray. Pray that Mother Nature who is so loving, spares us all.

Pictures: Radhika M B
For permissions to use: radiscribe@gmail.com

All pics are signed with `radi'
If you want a blow up for your wall-paper, do write in.

Navarathri/ Navaraatri: Dandiya, dolls, and dreams!

It's Navarathri time. And an excuse to indulge in festivities. I still miss the Dandiya nights of Mumbai when every housing society compound got lit up in lights and reverberated songs of the Goddess, and the Kolu of South - dolls galore that found their way from trunks to tables and benches that became steps for display.

Decking up for a festival where I live is a challenge, if not impossible. Flowers are a rarity unless they are part of bouquets. And bouquets, are super-expensive. I am not in the mood to celebrate festivals at home, but love it when I get invited over.

A little effort on, my hubby and I managed a visual treat for ourselves, replete with desi essence and grandeur.

For two weekends over Navarathri every year, Newark Avenue of Jersey City comes alive with a crowd, and is closed for traffic. What's so special did you ask? Newark Avenue is the official name for what is really India Street at Journal Square. Decked in desi lehengas, ghagra cholis and sarees, hundreds descend on the street these two weekend nights for a party. Kids, parents, grandparents, young men and women, tourists...Americans who love a dose of Indian culture...

An orchestra, aarti for the Goddess and loads of sponsors from this retail hub for Indian clothes, foods and other products. And a free walk-in to the street unlike ticketed Dandiya Raas events elsewhere in New Jersey State and the US.

A kid was kind enough to pose for me, with her kolattam sticks.

The event is not complete without a soulful aarti. The aarti sung here was very soulful, in spite of notes that went awry in the song.

These are pictures of the aarti being performed before the canopy of the Goddess. In the rear is the stage for singers, sponsor announcements and the like. One of the singers in the pictures below, is someone who sees with his heart, not eyes!

And a shot of the deity that I managed, jostling in the crowd. Aarti time is break time for dandiya revelers.

A group of friends poses for a picture (photographer on the other side). And then resumes the party. We're talking post 12 am!

Does this look any different at all from an Indian street? Am reminded so much of Commercial Street in Bangalore.

The crowds below are a matter of envy. I chatted with a couple who travelled from Secaucus. ``It's the only street in entire US where people do this,'' said Jayesh Balsara.

``We have been visiting here last four years. Before that, the scale was smaller. People dance in the cold, in rain, even if it snows,'' says Neha Balsara, his wife. Their daughter was out there on the street with friends, dancing. What a happy site it was! To see a street cordoned off, with huge crowds in colourful costumes!

On the cold night, people decked up in their finery, but covered up in a jacket or winter coat nevertheless.

Prior to the Dandiya night events, this street's umpteen clothes stores get decked up with the colourful dresses, hanging outside their doors, just like it happens in my home cities of Mumbai and Bangalore.

We travelled to Jersey City from Edison, but not before catching up with some home fervour at my friend's place in North Brunswick. Gombe Habba, Navarathri Kolu, Bommala Kolu, the names are many. And creativity, inifinite.

Kolu is the doll exhibition of the many Hindu Gods and Goddesses in neatly arranged steps that are covered ideally in a white cloth. Most dolls are made of clay. Many homes also make space for a little park spread out on the floor. A recent trend has been to use some space for displaying kids' toys such as cars, Barbies, and the like. My friend Prema and her family converted their basement room into the temporary display room.

Here are pictures from my dear friend's home:

Note the lovely aquarium that they did not disturb, and adds its dash to the space! Steps are usually arranged in odd numbers, three, five, seven, nine or more...if you do not have ready-made wood shelves, it takes all your resourcefulness to muster up something to show for steps. The result however is rewarding.

The `park' is usually placed by the side of the Kolu in other homes. Here, it makes for a lovely base step.

 Saraswati, the Goddess of learning has gone straight on to the second step, with her books. The quite learning baby or student picture that would not quite form part of traditional displays looks the most perfect companion for the Goddess here.

Below the lovely Durga applique, is the cute set of Patta Gombe or wooden dolls that are a must in most homes with doll display.

Back home, my mother had a little collection of saints clay dolls such as that of Swami Vivekananda, Raghavendra, Sai Baba. I added one of Tukaram, from one my trips to Belgaum, and also that of emperor Shivaji.

Here, it is Gandhiji and a charkha that find place! Wow.

And here is a picture, of a part of the park, with a mini zoo.

Some craft work by a little one comes in handy too, in the form of these tea lights made of paper.

But the one that takes the cake of all, is what I call `Organic eggs turned chefs!'

Aren't they cute!

The weekend did its bit to set me off on creativity dreams, thanks to loving friends who made it all possible. Prayerfully yours!!!

Pictures: Radhika M B
Related post: Navaraatri South Style
Write to me if you want pictures that are not watermarked.
Thank you Prema!

Outdoors turn paintings

Before the cold comes the colour. It's the Fall. Of leaves. Before the white of snow sweeps your vicinity.

It's when paintings pervade every green gift outside the window. Hues innumerable, of yellow. Hues in hundreds, of happy red. It's when these colours fuel Fall tourism.

When people pull their jackets out, tuck their hands into pockets, but venture out anyways, to catch those last days of outdoor air before winter weeks jail them in.

My friends were happy to give me a ride to see some Fall colours for myself, colours that I saw only in picture postcards as a kid, and screen pictures on the World Wide Web. Off we headed, to Bear Mountain State Park, a two hour ride from my part of New Jersey.

Here's a glimpse of what it felt like:

Cliche says -- your journey is the destination. Delight, is when these wayside trees that turned out like flower bunches for a while, and the sky's lovely pale blue greet your eye.

This spot, where the trees were lit up so wonderfully by the afternoon sun, is very near the entrance of the Bear Mountain State Park. Meditative. Foresty froth.

I love the woods. Any day more inviting than myriad mansions and malls in metros. Makes me want to rush into the trees.

Blessed are we humans, with such beauty in our midst. Mad are we though, to chase brick and glass to satiate our thirst. This river, is Hudson. Yeah. The all famous Hudson that marks the Manhattan skyline, makes for a prop in countless movies...

...Hudson, that meanders so gently in the middle of these hills and trees, that it sets you off on a dreamy thought trail, makes for the most perfect place to throw your shoes, let your hair loose and stretch out on the golden green grass.

All you need, is a tree whose leaves turn flowery red, water that glitters in afternoon sun and a hill with umpteen green-yellow-orange tree-bouquets... what more to make a Sunday? 

Besides the camera of course!

That's the dream riverside one would die for. The trouble with paradise is, everyone wants it. Notice the crowd on this walkway!

Foliage of love.

And some company to cheer about. With some beer and grill in tow...

I'd call this heaven on a Sunday afternoon!

Pictures: Radhika M B
For permissions to use, contact: radicreative@gmail.com
Location: Bear Mountain State Park, New York State
All pictures are watermarked.

A related post to be available on Cerebral Toothbrush blog soon.

Do check out Imprints Handmade too, for a crafts related post.