DATELINE CHAIBASA (JHARKHAND)

DATE 24 DECEMBER 2009
TIME 9.30ish

A CLOSE ENCOUNTER WITH INDIA IN TATTERS

I travelled to Chaibasa district in Jharkhand to meet a person I had befriended over the phone. Aim was to meet this phone friend in person and also to mobilize recruitment for a domestic help placement service initiated by my friend Kalpana basically to provide employment for women in need.

During our rounds through areas inhabited by the lower classes around the place we stayed, I came across a young woman who was lying in a cot outside her very humble home. She held on to a copy of Bible resting on her chest. I couldn’t walk away from her. I discovered she was ill for a long time and had no clue what ailed her. Her mother with a swollen face served her.

I ended up promising young Putli to organize some medical attention through my friend Shakeel. Putli was in a bad shape and lamented about nobody ever sitting with her, comforting her. Her nails were dirty and overgrown. Another young girl a friend of Putli came around. I reprimanded her for not taking care of Putli and asker her to cut her nails.

By now I realized, perhaps fear also played a big role in Putli being neglected and that’s why Putli’s friend was so reluctant to go close to her. With a promise to be kept, I returned to Shakeel’s place and told him about Putli. He had a very busy job running immunization programs for an international welfare organization. The weight of the promise weighed heavy on my conscience and I waited for the desired response from Shakeel which was not happening.

One evening as we sat around in his living room talking about this case, he said, ok let’s go. We, six of us, Shakeel and his two young children, house help Mono (a local tribal girl); Kalpana and I filled ourselves in Shakeel’s Maruti van. Together we reached to Putli’s house. There we were confronted by a family who seem to be living in a cesspool of domestic violence, drug abuse, ignorance and hopelessness. This too was very much India, an India perhaps no tourist would like to hang out with.

When we reached Putli’s house it was locked from inside with some light filtering out. Mono took courage and knocked at the door. She told us not to worry she being a local. The door was opened. In the front little space, Putli’s mother was lying in a cot with eyes swollen and a fresh bloodied cut on her forehead. Her father was in another little space. He greeted us, a gaunt looking thin man. He guided us to Putli who was lying in a cot in one big room space. Also a young man lay on a cot next to Putli. Their belongings were all sort of displayed in the room. Some shining utensils kept on a side shelf. There were lot of small and big TVs stored in the house. We wondered about why they had so many TVs.

While Shakkel attended to Putli, organized medical checkup etc for the next day with the district hospital doctors, Kalpana and me talked to rest of the family. It so happened that Putli’s father used to beat his wife every day. His lament was that his wife was not taking good care of him and the house and was drinking every day. He worked as a safai karmachari (Cleaner) with local municipal body and earned enough to fend for his family. His son, one could gather was too depressed. He was missing school and worked occasionally. Little money he earned, he didn’t give to his mother but spent on it looked like on some intoxicants etc. For a young boy of his age, he looked forlorn and resigned to all encompassing hopelessness.

Putli’s undiagnosed sickness added to the woes of this family and added to the violent bickering between his parents. Neighbours, who by now were spilling out of their homes, told us they were aware of this family’s misfortune but didn’t know how to help the family. They tried to reason it with Putli’s mother to restrain herself and be more cooperative with the man in the house. But it seemed nothing worked and this was going on for sometime and everyone seemed to be used to it. Putli was taken to doctors, her parents also fought over treatment for her, Her mother changed the treatment often as she wanted her to get better soon while father insisted on sticking with one treatment for a while.

Shakeel's two young children – a boy and a girl felt too uncomfortable in seeing all this. Shakeel had the courage to expose his children to one such crude reality of India. These children studied in good schools and had almost every wish provided for.

We felt so helpless. We couldn’t do much except to use tact and talk to console these people and hoped there might be some impact, hoped there might be some improvement in their behaviour. We really hoped that once Putli got better; she would be able to get her house in order. And that’s what we could do. And we left.

Later after few months I called up Putli. They had a mobile phone in the house but didn’t know how to use. Often ringing mode was inadvertently put on silent mode. So after trying perhaps 15 times over a period of four months, I got through. Putli had recovered but was in no mood to talk much. She was not satisfied with the medical help we had organized. We felt bit disappointed for fretting and worrying about her and her family.

I don’t know what is the status now. If Putli, as we fervently hoped, has been able to get her house in order? If her mother is taking in less of beatings? If her brother has mended his ways? if her father has sobered down a bit etc?

I will never come to know unless I visit her again. Till then that night confronting that India in tatters shall remain ever etched in my mind and heart.