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IMPRINT All texts are published under cc by-nc-sa 3.0 – by we_magazine Ulrike Reinhard +91 80 85675224 we@we-magazine.net
_india #2
we_india #2 / EDITORIAL
Ulrike Reinhard we@we-magazine.net
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EDITORIAL / we_india #2
Stories This we_magazine is different from the ones we’ve published before. It’s much less Internet related. It focusses much more on stories. Stories about various “We’s” I’ve encountered over the last 4.5 years living in India.. It’s also a very personal edition because all the topics we’ve covered are covered by people with whom I have a personal relationship – we’ve worked together, we travelled together, we became friends. They all have a somehow special place in my life in India. And I actually didn’t realize this until I saw the entire magazine. It took me almost one year to complete. That’s my very first project were I was absolutey running on Indian time … :-) Too many things happened that kept me away from finishing it. But now it’s there and I am very happy with the outcome. I love the stories – they show India like I experience it on a daily basis. I hope you have fun reading them!
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we_india #2 / CONTENT
Content
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CONTENT / we_india #2
60 EDUCATION we learn. 8 “INDIA FOR ME IS A BEAUTIFUL, COLORFUL MOSAIC” A photo essay Aslam Saiyad 30 COVERSTORY Rajnee – a housewife and farmer 32 MOTHER INDIA Antonella Zurini 42 A HARD DAYSNIGHT Rajesh, a rickshaw puller in Old Delhi Ulrike Reinhard 52 THE JAIPUR LITERATURE FESTIVAL Sanjoy Roy 54 FLASHBACK Mirra Savara
62 OPEN PLAY-SCAPES Bharti Batra, Mridul Batra and Shilpa Tayal 72 I AM AN ENGINEER! Anveer Metha 76 JANWAAR CASTLE An introduction Ulrike Reinhard 80 The Red Frock Shail Desai 82 Steadfastness Cassie Broadwin
88 THE FUTURE IS OPEN! Delhi’s air is the highest polluted in the world! 90 Only a community approach can fix it! Mrutyunjay Mishra 94 PRIVATE HEALTHCARE Is A Dead End Street ... Dr. Umang Mathur
100 FARMER PREM Ulrike Reinhard 114 HOW WE ARE SLOWLY KILLING LEH Shail Desai 122 ROCK ART OF PANNA What does it mean for the local people living there? Shekkar S. Kolipaka
86 A boy who skates – Ramkesh Mannan Gupta
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“India for me is a beautiful, colorful mosaic” Foto essay by Aslam Saiyad
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Chained Love Portrait of a toddler and a dog. There is equality in the picture – obviously in terms of scale but also in terms of respect. I see matching bindis, the little boy with his fatty legs wearing a man-like shirt and the flow of celebratory marigolds on the dog’s chest. I took this picture on my way to photograph a religious festival at Pandharpur. People from different parts of Maharshtra walk for 22 days to reach the Vitthal Temple. They sing and dance and pray while they are walking. These two were among them. Every evening the entire march stops and the people rest for the night. Next morning they move on. © Alam Saiyad
we_india #2 / ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER
A boy without hands enjoys the morning with his friends in the compound of the Mecca Masjid in Hyderbad. © Alam Saiyad
ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER / we_india #2
we_india #2 / ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER
ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER / we_india #2
Mumbai Lights One of Mumbai’s 125 train stations. Every day 30 unaccompanied children arrive from all over the country in one of the stations. They’re attracted by the hope that there are jobs in the country’s most prosperous city. When a single child arrives at a railway station within 15 minutes it will be approached by a predator or by a factory representative seeking cheap child labor or a brothel owner. (Source: Ashadeep project of Global Angel) © Alam Saiyad
we_india #2 / ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER
Knowledge Shared An old lady finds a “new road” at the roadside bookstall on Dhaka Street, Bangladesh. © Alam Saiyad
ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER / we_india #2
Mutual Support I watched this old weak fragile lady passing by this statue of Lord Ganesha, the god of arts, intellect and wisdom. Ganesha is widely revered as the remover of obstacles. As she walked slowly she took Ganesha’s support. I saw mutual faith between the god and the devotee. © Alam Saiyad
we_india #2 / ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER
ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER / we_india #2
Adam and Eve Pandharpurchi Wari is a big religious festival. Farmers from all over Maharashtra pilgram to the Vitthal Temple. They walk for 22 days. They stop every ten kilometers. Generally they rest in an open area close to a village. They sing, dance, play, eat and get ready for next day’s walk. This cute couple is taking a little rest in a vineyard. Š Alam Saiyad
we_india #2 / ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER
Suicide Maharashtra, a western province in India is facing a drought for the last three years. Harversts are very poor. Therefore Maharashtra has the highest number of suicides among distressed farmers all over India. The death toll on December 31, 2015 was 3,228. In many cases, even a loan as small as Rs 10,000 is enough to push the farmer over the edge. Š Alam Saiyad
ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER / we_india #2
Frames After having street food at the roadside at night I went to wash my hands. There I saw the cook staring at me. But my eye caught attention to the a huge garland and the framed picture of the community guru. I loved how the garland ran across both of the frames. Š Alam Saiyad
we_india #2 / ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER
Sun and Saree A dog enjoying some shadow under a saree. Ladies are drying their garments at one of the biggest Hindu gatherings in Maharshtra. © Alam Saiyad
ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER / we_india #2
we_india #2 / ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER
Mobile Kitchen Pandharpur, Maharashtra. © Alam Saiyad
ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER / we_india #2
we_india #2 / ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER
Flower Urchin A young girl selling flowers on Marine Drive in Mumbai, the city of dreams. © Alam Saiyad
ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER / we_india #2
we_india #2 / ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER
ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER / we_india #2
Striped A young man relaxing on the heap of melons in front of Charminar in the month of Ramzan. © Alam Saiyad
we_india #2 / ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER
Photographer Aslam Saiyad trying to be a friend.
ASLAM SAIYAD / PHOTOGRAPHER / we_india #2
Aslam Saiyad Age: 39 Born in: Mumbai Living in: Mumbai Profession: General Manager / technical head at an animation school in Mumbai / Photography Trainer / Documentary Photographer Passion: To make photography valuable to many more people. What makes you tick: Traveling to places and exploring and enjoying different cultures and values. If you would have one wish free, what would it be? People should finally start to respect life! That will create respect for everyone irrespective of race, color and religion. Favorite photo: The Napalm Girl, the iconic picture of a nine year old girl taken during the Vietnam War on June 8, 1972. Photograph by the Vietnamese-American photographer Nick Ut. This picture started the anti-war protests all over the world. Favourite photographer: Czech photographer Josef Koudelka Why Koudelka? Koudelka says he never stays in one country longer than three months. Why? Because he is interested in seeing, and if he stays longer he will become blind. Photography is all about seeing. Three things that bother me in India: 1. The destruction of forest in the name of development. For short term goals we are risking and losing our earth. 2. Communalism: Poet Rabindranath Tagore, the Nobel laureate, once said about India: “She has tried to make an adjustment of races, to acknowledge the real differences between them where these exist, and yet seek for some basis of unity.” I feel that the rise of a particular community under the guise of ‘Indianness’ has subsequently given birth to other religious and linguistic hegemonies – in protest to this glorified ‘Indian-ness’. This is deeply threatening India’s secular plurality. 3. Unequal share of wealth: The nexus between corrupt businessmen and corrupt politicians is killing transparency and competition.
we_india #2 / RAJNEE CAFE
COVERSTORY Rajnee, 35, is married for the second time – she has no children. She is living in Chenini in the buffer zone of Panna National Park, Madhya Pradesh (MP). She does farming and runs a small coffee house where she serves the best Mungh Dhal Pakora I’ve ever eaten. 30-35 families are living In the village – there is no electricity and sanitation. She has never been out of MP.
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MICROECONOMICS
Rajnee – a housewife and farmer Regarding her income Rajnee is heavily dependent on her husband. He is working as a waiter / barkeeper in a close by wildlife lodge and earns 4000 INR (roughly 70 USD) per month. That’s the money she has for managing the entire house. Her coffee house hardly generates any income – the place is hard to find for foreigners who usually only come to this area to see “the” tiger. It’s basically only me bringing guests in. All of them love the simple food and the outstanding hospitality Rajnee is offering. She and her husband are living with their extended family ... four goats and seven dogs in one house., so they don’t need to pay rent. She is spending 500 INR / month for her cell phone. She re-charges it with a small portable solar panel which she lays on the roof of the house. And sometimes she gives it to her husband to charge it at his working place. Besides wheat she has to buy everything they need for food out in the market. There is one weekly market close by in Madla (4 km) or she is taking the bus to Panna (20 km), the next bigger town. The bus ticket costs 30 INR one way and it takes 30 minutes. In the house there are no furnitures. Only two char-pies. Rajnee’s day starts at sunrise. She takes her bath at the public water pump which is right in front of her house. The water for tea is cooked on a small open fireplace. There is only space for one pot. The dough for ciabatta is rolled out on a stone, it’s the same stone were spices and and vegetables are ground. I love the smell of this stone. Rajnee is fast with her hands in preparing food. She seems to love cooking. And she is cooking well. After breakfast she takes care of her four goats and washes clothes. Then she goes into the field or if needed to Panna for shopping. One kg of rice – depending on the quality costs 20-40 INR. A pair of sandals 150 INR. Sometimes in the afternoon she is sitting with the other women in the village – and sometimes her in-laws from next door drop by. At nightfall she gets ready to go to bed. In wintertime it gets very hold – so they make an open fire to warm-up and hopefully fall asleep before the fire burns off. In the summer month it’s hard to stand the heat – but surprisingly in the second room of the house, at the far end, it stays pretty cool. This room has no windows. Then they sleep in there. When ever I come by Rajnee is smiling. And I love to sit with her. She says he accepts life for what it is and is not looking forward to any change. She says, we take things as they come.
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Mother India by Antonella Zurini
Antonella is a philosopher. She is founder of DEVIDINE, an NGO in France and Italy.
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I first came to Bundelkhand in 1982 – back then there was nothing in Khajuraho, the temples were a hidden treasure. Khajuraho was a sleeping village. Maybe you could call it a small town. There was only one 5 star hotel, the Chandela and the Khajuraho people weren’t spoilt and corrupted by tourism yet. I felt in love with the landscape – somehow wild but still untouched. And certainly abandoned. I felt in love with the people. And all the contradictions. I’ve been coming back to this place since 1997 on a regular basis and now I spent every winter (October –March) here. My first travels in India were a shock. In 1982 the general conditions of the population were really difficult and bad, and without the help of my friend with whom I was traveling, I probably would have fled. It was hard to stand, and even harder to understand. But something was also very attractive to me. Maybe it was the philosopher in me who got drawn in. In 1997 I became more free in my job and I was able to organize my life in a different way. It was then when I started to come to India regularly. It was simply to be in contact with the Hindu culture. In 2003, some friends gave me Euros 750 and ask me to do something useful with it! For them philosophy wasn’t something useful, they thought it was a waste of time. Anyhow. I could have given away the Euros 750 here and there, but I felt that I could do something better. One day I accompanied some tourists to Raneh Falls – a beautiful spot 12 km away from Khajuraho. During monsoon Ken River falls deep here and the gorges are full of water. Wild water. Breathtaking views. Incredible sound. In this protected area someone invited us to visit his village (Dhongwa), a tribal poor village close by. While the tourists were mainly interested in taking photos, I noticed a baby in severe malnutrition. I decided to come back with a doctor to cure him. At this place under the old Neem tree there was a small statue of a goddess repre-
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senting Mother Earth. My french friends who gave me the money were members of an association called “Isis” ... So I felt that this was the right place to begin. The baby boy’s name was DEVIDINE – meaning “given to god”. He is still alive. And it is because of him that I have called my association DEVIDINE. It is because of him that I’m still fighting for these people. In 2010 – just before my yearly departure for the European summer, I’ve asked my social workers to find me a place where “real poor people” live. I knew that the poorest are not easily to reach out to but I had a strong desire to choose for our new program the poorest of the poor. After a few months of inquiries my social worker wrote to me: “Madam, I’ve found the right place. The village is called Kundarpura and it is only 8 km away from Khajuraho. A real poor village. I believed him and we started our work.” Kundarpura, this so beautifully sounding name of the village carries a lot. The simple name indicates its population, it’s the people’s identity card so to speak. Pura means village and Kundar is the tribe of Adivasi (adi = earliest, vasi = inhabitants) living there. The other villages and even the smallest settlement around Kunderpura are inhabited by different or scheduled castes – they are the only Kundar in the district. And this is was characterized them most: they are and have been totally isolated. A belt of contempt has been strangling them, bad reputation which so important in Hindu society, has branded the village. “They are dirty”, “they are illiterate”, “they are alcoholics” and “they are Adivasi” – it was an insult and a sufficient explanation for every problem. It was the brilliant and welcome excuse for government
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officers, even for the teachers of the public school (“they cannot learn” was their preferred refrain) for not doing their duty and following their responsibilities. Adivasi are India’s indigenous people. Many of these Indian tribes have their own language and their own habits. In Kundarpura though they speak Bundehli as spoken in all the Bundelkhand area, even if with a particular accent. And don’t expect to find there different wild dressed people – in Kundarpura there is no such a thing as folk. The village looks just like any other “chicken breeding Indian village”. Adivasi have been abused more than any other “outcasts” in India’s society. I would even go so far and say that Adivasi are only surviving because of an intelligent policy of the central government. Since the first days of India’s Constitution strong laws are protecting the Adivasi. One of these laws has been and still is the main tool to save their lives: land alienation is forbidden by law (excepts for some particular reasons). But as usual, all the social plans launched by the government (local or national) have never been implemented. Multi layered corruption is the name of the game. There is not enough farmland available in this area and because the population keeps growing and growing many people are forced to emigrate regularly to Jammu for a few months of the year. So depending on the season the village feels like a tiny little ghost town. This seasonal “movement” might be good in terms of economic issues, but it causes a lot of social problems. Among the most alarming consequences are the children’s literacy, the general health conditions and the destruction of the social ties among the families and within the entire community.
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Don’t expect a warm or at least friendly welcome. Ignorance and indifference is what you receive. They’ve watched and observed us over years. They’re used to see people who come, speak and make big promises during election time and then – after election – disappear from the scene. No one has ever started to working there long term. Unfortunately this is a very common situation for India’s Adivasi. Having a nodding acquaintance with them doesn’t reveal anything. You have to stay close with them and you have to be there. Continuously. Only then you can reveal their different nature. After five years living and being with them I slowly begin to understand. There is no leader or chief in the village which makes it difficult to settle disputes. Many of them are totally illiterate, they have no access even to the simplest information. Earlier there were hunters but today they are no more. Bigamy is admitted. Dowry is not a habit, but you will find greedy men asking for it. Kids are totally free, incredibly dirty and they usually do not go to school. They prefer to run in the fields and play with the goats. There is only limited electricity available. No television, no movie. And until one month ago there wasn’t even a comfortable road going there. You were literally crawling out of the car or off the motorbike and putting your bones back together once you’ve reached. A rough dance between and over huge potholes. Bumpy and dusty. No bus or public transportation – so this village really remained in isolation. Within the Adivasi community they have NO CASTE. This is the main difference to the rest of the Hindus. They are Adivasi and that’s all. They have no particular gods. They are connected to the nature and for them god is “the protector”. They’ve adopted the Hindu god Hanuman – the son of god
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of the wind – and as a local god so to speak they worship the Maharaja from Orchha. In ancient times Kunderpura was included in this Maharaja’s empire. They are hard workers. Widows or destitute women face proudly their condition and are able to work and to earn their living. Their lack of confidence in anyone, even in their own peoples, and the lack of consciousness about their rights as Indian citizen, makes it difficult to settle solutions at the community level. After three years of being constantly present, providing one regular meal per day to the kids, curing them, accepting them in our coaching classes, bringing them to doctors, understanding what they really need – after three years of hard social work finally one word has expressed the new born confidence “namasté, bahin” (“Hello sister!”). Even though I am far to old to be called sister by them – but they did it! And this made me smile. I am very happy! They’ve finally understood that we are not there to cheat them. This “unusual” confidence which we are experiencing over the last two years has become the compost and the basis in the community and makes new solutions possible. It is exactly because of this that things now are slowly changing and these peoples are revealing their own qualities of courage in a better and so far unknown way. There’s no road map to understand them, no “how to do” recipe. Only your intuition and your open heart can guide you and open the communication doors to ultimately reach (a new) understanding. For me to approach them and to slowly understand them is the real and true trip to the deepest hidden and forgotten roots of India. Beyond any sociologic explanation, beyond any of our economic patterns which we normally use to drive and explain rural economic development, the pure existence of this population opens us the path to our future: deeply rooted in nature, fed by their land MOTHER INDIA, without castes and gods, they are the primary energy of this country and they show to the 21st century Indian society a way of being. From the ancient starting point of this oldest population India can scroll down a new menu with unlimited issues.
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we_india #2 / RICKSHAW PULLING
A Hard Days Night Rajesh, a rickshaw puller in Old Delhi
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Photos by Vinit Gupta
Text by Ulrike Reinhard
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A Hard Day’s Night was the name of a song and an album by the Beatles, released in 1964. Rajesh, the ricksha puller in Old Delhi, wasn’t born then. The song’s title originated from something said by Ringo Starr: “We went to do a job, and we’d worked all day and we happened to work all night. I came up still thinking it was day I suppose, and I said, ‘It’s been a hard day ...’ and I looked around and saw it was dark so I said, ‘... night!’ So we came to ‘A Hard Day’s Night.’” I am sure Rajesh gets this feeling every day. Just with much less money in his pockets. We spent a day with him in January 2016.
RICKSHAW PULLING / we_india #2
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We started kind of late. Delhi was still cold in the mornings. It was mid January and the winter wasn’t yet over. In fact it had come late this year. So wearing a warm jacket was mandatory. But during daytime it would warm up to 22-25 degree Celsius. Nice and comfortable until the afternoon, around 4 pm, when the temperature dropped again. Tricky weather for rickshaw pullers though. Rajesh had health problems. His bones were constantly hurting and he often had a hard time breathing. His physical efforts make him sweat. And the moment he’s done a ride his soaking wet shirt makes it easy for him to catch a cold. To pull a rickshaw through these bumpy, narrow, jam-packed, overcrowded, stinky, dirty Old Dehli streets isn’t an easy job. It takes a lot of grit and I suppose a certain kind of ignorance to survive in this exciting and always surprising Moloch. We arrived around 10 am at the rickshaw “garage” a friend of ours had pointed out. It was within walking distance of the New Delhi Railway Station. At this garage 1000 rickshaws are available for rent – many of the rickshaw pullers don’t own their vehicles – they rent them out at places like this for 200 INR per day. So the owner makes quite some money – every day more than 900 rickshaws are out and about. It was there we met Rajesh. He was one of the 10-15 rickshaw wallas hanging out at the place. Vinit explained our idea to the “manager” running the garage. The other rickshaw wallas were only bystanders while the two were negotiating. We were planning to “follow” one puller through the entire day – so we were looking for a volunteer who was willing to be photographed and interviewed. And we needed another rickshaw for ourselves to follow him. This idea must have sounded pretty weird to them – at least that was my impression watching the scene. All the rickshaw wallas were on their feet around Vinit and the manager. I myself observed the happening from a little distance but even so it was obvious to everyone that the foreign lady was somehow involved. This probably raised the fee. It took them like long 10 Indian minutes to find the two pullers and agree on the charges of the day. Finally all was set, Rajesh was the “puller of the day” and we were ready to go. These garages are much more than rental stations. They are THE meeting points for the rickshaw wallas. It’s the place where their day starts and ends. They eat there, read the newspaper, talk, smoke their Khenny (local tobacco) and party in the evenings drinking the local booze. Many of them live close by sharing shabby rooms between five or six people. “But this is perfectly fine”, Rajesh said, “we are only there for sleeping”. Rajesh is from the Motihari district in Bihar. He doesn’t know how old he is, he said he was 30-35 years old. He looked older from the distance, but when you looked in his face you could see that he was still quite young. He only came to Delhi for work. At home he couldn’t make enough money to feed his wife and their five kids. “Why five kids?” I’ve asked, “If you only have little money”. His answer was pretty surprising. It wasn’t the expected one that the kids one day will take care of him. “No”, he said; “I didn’t know about family planning, so that’s why we have five children. Three boys and two girls.” They’re all living together with the extended family in their own house. Only one of the kids is going to school – the other four can’t because there isn’t enough money. He usually goes back home every six months. In between he sends money transfers. On average 5000 INR a month. On a good day he makes like 500-600 INR in Delhi. From this hard earned money he has to pay 200 INR rental fee for the rickshaw, he needs roughly 100 INR for food and drink per day, and he pays 500 INR monthly rent for the shared room. Still, it’s better than back home where he would work as a farm laborer and earn just 100 INR a day. Before he came to Delhi he was in Tamil Nadu, in southern India. He was working in a factory, but he said this work was even harder than pulling the rickshaw and also it was much further for him to go back home. So he moved to Delhi.
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It was past 11 in the morning when we finally left the garage. Rajesh dusted down his rickshaw and pulled off towards the railway station where we came from. It didn’t take him long to find his first clients. A middle aged couple climbed on the back seat. Their destination was located in the heart of Old Delhi: Hauz Khasi. It took Rajesh hardly 15 minutes to get there. There wasn’t much traffic yet – the local stores and markets were just about to open. The first 20 INR were made. From there he went to a waiting stop for bicycle wallas, it was at gate 3 of the Jama Masjid, the largest mosque in India, built between 1644 and 1658. It’s amazing how much space opens up behind these huge walls. Once you’re inside, it’s hard to imagine how narrow and packed the surrounding alleys and lanes are. When we got there, the muezzin was calling for midday prayers. Plenty of men followed his call and entered Jama Masjid through gate 3. Old Delhi is an area where Muslims and Hindus have been living peacefully together since partition. No clashes, no tensions. A nice colorful mix. You can’t feel any nationalism there. All is just like it has been for decades. A nice feeling actually.
Slowly the traffic increased, and with the traffic the noise level went up. It’s an incredible cacophony of auto rickshaws, worn-out trucks, cars, rattling motorbikes and scooters and hundreds of horns blowing. And in the middle of this bedlam people were making phone calls and chatting. After 10 minutes waiting time at the mosque, Rajesh found his next customer, a woman who wanted to go to Chandni Chowk. Chandni Chowk is the main street in Old Delhi which runs from the mosque to the Red Fort. The latter is the focal point of the former capital of the Mughals (1206-1526). Along Chandni Chowk are the oldest and busiest markets in the walled city. Less than 20 years ago this used to be a residential area but now the entire area is commercialized. Shop besides shop besides shop. You can buy anything in the surrounding markets – from flowers to spices, from designer sarees to jewelry, delicacies and sweets, paper and books. You name it – you get it there. It’s an incredibly lively and crowded place. All your senses are challenged, especially your sense of smell – the smell is a dangerous blend of exhaust fumes, rotten garbage and all kinds of street food. It took Rajesh hardly 15 minutes to reach and he had another 20 INR in his
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pocket. Little money for very hard work. To navigate the rickshaw through these bumpy alleys without getting stuck in a pothole or the knee-high garbage is an art in itself. Rajesh managed fairly well. Monotonously he carved his way through the Old Delhi jungle and as if by a miracle we didn’t see any accidents. Somehow it looked like that there was a higher order in place to keep everything running. The pedestrians seemed immune to the surrounding chaos. So were the stray dogs. Nothing could disturb their sleep. Astonishing. On the non-existent sidewalks men were sitting in front of their shops, waiting for the next customers. No one was bothered by the stinking black smoke rising from the smoldering garbage
heaps. I am sure it was highly toxic. When people saw us taking photographs they thought we were journalists documenting the garbage crisis. They were saying: “We are living in hell and nobody cares!” It certainly looked and smelled that way. We learnt that a political power game was being played out – once again on the backs of citizens. Delhi is governed by the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) but Delhi’s Municipal Corporation, which is responsible for the garbage collection, is still in the hands of Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) – so the BJP was using the Municipal Corporation to make the AAP look bad. What to say? We didn’t wait long at Chandni Chowk because Rajesh wanted to move on to another waiting point. So we moved westwards towards Majid Fatehpuri, a 17th-century mosque. The rickshaw wallas never wait long at one point. They are always floating around. I don’t know why and I
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didn’t ask, but I believe it has to do with the extreme density you find at these places. When Rajesh was going around with his bicycle he certainly was in a world of his own. He only came out of his shell, so to speak, when needed. And this was when a new customer came along. His eyes were the connecting points. He didn’t speak much. On our way to Majid Fatehpuri, the third client boarded the rickshaw. Once again a couple. This time an older couple. Surprisingly – at least to me – they never argued or discussed the price, they jumped on, hopped off and paid 10, 20 or max. 30 INR. If I board an auto or a rickshaw the first thing the drivers do is quote me a price which is way above the regular price and then they start haggling. I think
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RICKSHAW PULLING / we_india #2
they do it with every foreigner, it’s a ritual. And certainly it’s a lucrative way to make a little extra money. I can say that after this day I will surely always pay the rickshaw wallas more than average. It’s a tough job. In Old Delhi every now and then you see tourists and most of them are going around in rickshaws – it’s obviously the way to explore this part of town. And the rickshaw wallas see them as a “better” income source than locals. Probably just like at any other tourist place. Rajesh again made 20 INR. So far, after more than two hours, he had earned 60 INR – not even one Euro. When the passengers got off I also got out of my rickshaw. It was high time to stretch my body and sort out my bones. It’s not the most comfortable way of going around – especially if you’re sitting for hours on a hard wooden bench. The moment I got out, Rajesh had his next customer. A young man with a huge package. No time for a break. So I jumped back in my rickshaw and we were on the road again.
It’s amazing what these guys can carry on a rickshaw – packages over packages. Sometimes the stuff is so heavy that the wallas have to push their rickshaw. No chance to ride them – way too heavy is the load. The streets were now packed. The word “traffic jam” is inadequate to describe the chaos. Small lorries parked on both sides of the street unloading their freight. Auto rickshaws and the new electronic rickshaws, motorbikes and scooters, bicycles and pedestrians – everyone aiming to be first. A narrow two lane street easily becomes a six lane street – with not a single millimeter of space to maneuver in. It’s a tough fight over the next move and one kilometer can easily take half an hour. The guy on the rickshaw left and only paid Rajesh 10 INR, complaining about the traffic. As if it was an unusual thing at that time of the day in Old Delhi or Rajesh’s fault. At our next stop I bought our rickshaw drivers fresh apples – I loved the way they bit into them. They truly enjoyed the surprise snack. With all this freshly won energy the next customers came quickly – quite a few in a row.
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we_india #2 / RICKSHAW PULLING
We were standing at a corner waiting to make a left turn when an elder woman said in a low voice to Rajesh: “Don’t think when you deal with foreigners you will make good money. Drive slowly, be careful!” Vinit translated what she had said – and we both tried to figure out what she meant. Hard to tell. Rajesh didn’t even take any notice of her, maybe he hadn’t heard her at all. The left turn took us into Old Delhi’s Saree Market. What a festival of colors! It’s one of the biggest saree markets in India. You’ll find sarees from 500 INR up to five lakh INR (Euro 5.500) or more. And for the first time today we saw women in the streets. Plenty of women shopping and carrying big shopping bags. What a change in the street view! At 3 pm sharp – as if it were planned – we reached the Lal Qila, the Red Fort. The road right in front of it was extremely busy and the customers in the rickshaw, three people, insisted that Rajesh crossed the street and let them off on the other side. It took us 15 minutes to do so. He didn’t get any extra tip from the customers. Instead they yelled at him because he didn’t want to cross the street. Business as usual. In front of the Fort we took a longer break – I asked our two rickshaw wallas if they were ready for lunch, but they said no. I was slowly getting hungry. But their hunger for the next customer was bigger. Rajesh hadn’t made enough money yet. But he wasn’t bothered. He knew the best time of the day – rush hour – would come soon. For the first time I saw him talking to another rickshaw puller who was also waiting in front of the Lal Qila. The conversation was interrupted a couple of times by potential customers but obviously nothing worked out. Most of them asked to go far – which the wallas refused. They only go inside Old Delhi. Probably 10 bicycle rickshaws were waiting there. One hundred meters further down the auto rickshaws were waiting. They’re a different crowd. And then there are the new electro rickshaws which cruise silently through the narrow densely populated alleys – huge competition for the traditional bicycle wallas. I couldn’t help thinking (and regretting) that soon these silent four seated cruisers will shape the street view in Old Delhi. But maybe I am wrong.
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RICKSHAW PULLING / we_india #2
The next passenger brought us back to the railway station – close to the place where we started. It was past 4 pm and the temperature was falling. It was chilly. We put on our jackets. Now I could convince the guys to have something to eat. I was almost starving. We told Rajesh it was his choice where we go. So he took us to a street food place in one of the little alleys around the train station. We bought samosas – two for each of us. They tasted great. Then we sat down at a local tea stall and had some Chai. It was an astonishing place. Nice clean cups, a few old shabby tables and chairs – but everything neat and clean in this dust-filled environment. The place was run by an older man – and three teenage boys served the guests. There was space for probably 10 people. I sat in the far corner so that I could get a good view of everything. It was really cozy. It was there that Rajesh started to talk to me. He was smiling and it was almost like he felt somehow comfortable with us. He was asking me what I do and where I live. He was surprised to hear that I live in Madhya Pradesh. If there was any chance to work there, he asked. “The rickshaw puller job is too hard for me to keep up forever”, he continued. I had to say no. He said: “Just keep it in mind”. When we left the tea stall it was already starting to get dark. We asked our two guys to drop us at the railway station. We were done – after 8 hours in the rickshaw. They dropped us right in front of the entrance of the yellow line at New Delhi Railway Station. Exactly where we started in the morning. It was cold now. We paid them off … 700 INR each. Rajesh would probably call this day a good day. Extraordinairy. In addition to the 700 INR he had made so far 200 INR and the rush hour was yet to come. So he would end up with more than 1000 INR – 14 Euros. He will be very, very happy. We promised to be back and show them the story. That is what we will do. I can’t wait to see their faces when we show up again. We’ll give Rajesh a copy of the story. I doubt he can read. But it doesn’t matter. I am sure he will be very proud. And he will smile again. It’s then when his face looks really young. The two of them left for rush hour customers. Another three hours before they go back to the garage and chill out with their colleagues around the fire. That’s what they do seven days a week. They probably will have some extra local booze tonight. And an extra Kkenny.
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we_india #2 / THE JAIPUR LITERATURE FESTIVAL
The Jaipur Literature Festival The annual Jaipur Literature Festival is one of the world’s largest literary gatherings. It presents the finest of Indian writers, artists and performers.
Sanjoy Roy, festival producer
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THE JAIPUR LITERATURE FESTIVAL / we_india #2
Sanjoy Roy In a country like India which is so rich in culture/arts/literature – what is the secret to get the right program up and going?
Right programming is the key to any festival of this kind. Namita Gokhale and William Dalryple work to ensure that their list of speakers present diversity and choice across regions, issues, topics and countries.
What was personally your biggest finding at Jaipur LitFest ever? And why?
That knowledge should be made available at no cost in places like India where there is such inequity. And the only way to create equality is through eduction and dissemination of knowledge.
If it was only you Sanjoy – what would you love to change at the LitFest?
Continue to grow the space to ensure that all our hundreds of thousands of visitors are able to go away with an incredible experience which enriches them many times over.
I really liked the mix of all the people who visited the festival – and I was amazed by the number of students and scholars roaming around. Do you run special activities/programs for the youth?
Yes we do. We have a number of outreach programs run by our CSR partners Pratham books and the Yuva Ekta Foundation. This year we welcomes over 30.000 children from schools which were unable to access The Jaipur Literature Festival. We also created a street play to reach out to the children.
To produce such a huge event and to service it a lot of different talent is needed. What are the biggest challenges regarding this or is it an easy task to find the right people?
We have been lucky to have some of the finest people working with us. My 100 plus colleagues at Teamwork are impassioned and efficient. We run a year long volunteer program where we interview over 1.700 applications to choose 350 – 400 volunteers who are in turn trained for one week prior to the festival. We have over 1.200 people working at the festival plus security.
Is there a specific reason why Jaipur?
It boasts of romance, intrigue, war and peace and is the perfect heritage city to host festivals.
What kind of role plays the LitFest in the ecosystem of India's literature / book market?
This year Jaipur Literature Festival sold approximately 120.000 euro worth of books of the speakers and authors present on the ground in five days plus an additional 50.000 Euros via online. The literature festival helps to throw light on difficult issues, provides space for emerging writers, gives access to new languages and is a great motivator in generating sales and interest and bringing in more authors and new writers.
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with / by Mirra Savara
Flashback
we_india #2 / 45 YEARS LATER ...
45 YEARS LATER ... / we_india #2
I’ve met Mirra Savara in September 2015 – she came to meet me at the Kumbhathon in Nashik. In the middle of our launch for our environment kit (see p. ) at Kumbh Mela we’ve spent a few days together, went to see the Swmaiji’s and had a couple of drinks at night on the roof terrace. We’ve had interesting conversations, somehow it was like we’ve known each other much longer. Mirra is a strong woman, she raised her two children alone, made a remarkable career as a researcher and never hesitated to touch uncertain terrain. I like the sound of her voice, her open laugh and the way she throws her thought snippets into a conversation. She hardly stays long with a topic and a thought, snippets as I’ve said, but I feel there is a lot to read between the lines and to think about. When she sent me this text she has written 45 years ago I’ve had to make it part of this new we_India and ask her a few questions about it.
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we_india #2 / 45 YEARS LATER ...
The Sneha Yatra Youth Festival, 1971 And that article made me a writer ... I became a correspondent for the youth magazine Junior Statesman. It was a period of writing about artists, music, just about anything. Desmond Doig was an editor par excellence, he would meet us in the Mumbai Statesman office and every idea would be laughingly welcomed, grown, watered and each writer felt the flame of excitement which gave work that needed zing. I used to take the photographs too and this article got me a letter from Desmond, welcoming me to the small group of photojournalists in India. That made my day, month, year ...
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It was the cold night breeze, the mountains all around, the green living trees, the feel of the earth and grass beneath cement weary feet. Like Dylan sings, ‘because the wind is high it blows my mind.’ And the wind was blowing even higher, even cooler, cleaner, and stronger at the Sneha Yatra at Malavli, the three-day youth festival that everyone had been waiting for. Anyone who came looking for a Woodstock, a rock-beat whackout and a pseudo imitation of the West were most disappointed. It was simply the first time in India that youth – mainly from Bombay, Poona, Delhi, Goa, Calcutta, Madras, Bangalore, Nagpur, Surat, and Hyderabad came together for the three-day youth festival at Sneha Yatra, Malavli – 80 miles into the ghats from Bombay. They came mainly for the atmosphere – three days to be just what you feel like with thousands others like yourself. To be among 2,000 people of your own age is quite an experience. It was holiday time and so everybody – working people and students – could make it there. It was the time for festivals – Diwali of lights, New Year of happiness, Bhai Tikka for brothers, and Ramzan Eid to start eating regularly again. Ramzan Eid – especially famous for the moon that night, an iota of a silver lining in a semi-circle curve. Everyone knew – it was just in the air – that it was a time to feel together.Surprisingly, there were many
45 YEARS LATER ... / we_india #2
girls, about 1,000 out of a total of 4,000 that came at some time or the other to Malavli. There was Anita, in bell bottoms who came blazing in behind a zooped up motorbike; there was a teacher of social work with three students, who had come to sleep on a blanket under a zillion stars. The guys present were of all shapes and kinds – straight, squares, intellectuals, pseudos, movie makers, writers, advertising men (unavoidable), engineers, school dropouts, music bugs, and radicals. Foreigners were present in a larger dose than usual – for once, it was them adding color and spice to a purely local happening. Yes, there was music, music of all kinds, to immerse yourself, to forget oneself, to feel together. First, the unforgettable cold. The days were warm, what with the sun out. At 5.30, the sun started its daily trip down behind the mountains, blazing red. With the skies becoming a deep blue and the first wishing star appearing, one started to feel the nip. Out came the sweaters, the blankets, and music was in the air. Twos and threes huddled under blankets to keep themselves warm. There were the beat-rock-acid groups: Country Funk Revival, Atomic Forest, Twilight Zone and Brief Encounter. More people, Savages (all from Bombay), Windfall, Inventions of Mothers, Odyssey (from Poona), Human Bondage from Delhi (without lead Suresh who was sick), Mara from Bangalore, and High Noon, way up from Calcutta. Impromptu groups also sprang up. As promised, there were other types of music. Soloists, mainly in the folk style were Ronnie Mistry (who will be on Polydor soon), Sharon Prabhakar (how deep and beautiful she sounded outdoors), Ajit Singh and Remo Fernandez (“Bye Bye Mr. American Pie” was great), Siddharth from Pondicherry, and Ganga Waters.
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we_india #2 / 45 YEARS LATER ...
And there was the classical Indian music. It was for the first time since the Delhi JS Musical that classical musicians played in an atmosphere like this. I’m sure the audience had been into classical music at some time or the other, but it was the first time it was being presented to them as part of “the scene.” Sure, there were two or three rowdy groups that shouted and made things embarrassing and annoying. But for most of the people it was the most enjoyable part of the show. Ustad Amjad Ali Khan (sarod) with Latif Ahmen on the tabla was the undisputed hits. Latif played a tabla solo, and then Amjad began Malkauns. When he put down his sarod to walk off-stage, there were waves of screams “We want Amjad!” Sighs of relief swept as he came back and got into a Bengali folk song – its galloping rhythm had everyone clapping to one of the most beautiful, lyrical tunes there is. Raga Bhairavi followed as the final touch. Others in the classical scene were: Mohammad Rashid Khan and Mohammad Sayeed Khan who sang lyrics of Tansen. The lyrics were difficult to understand, but they were wonderful melodies. Panna Mehta played ragas on the guitar, Kumari Mangala (a student of Vilayat Khan) played the sitar, and there was Shri Shekhar (sarod) and Ashok Bellare (santoor) with Uday Raikar accompanying on the tabla. The highlight came when the person next to me could stay still any longer. The jugalbandi (duet) was getting faster and faster. He just had to get up, and start dancing. It was just great. All musicians, for the love of music and youth, played free. There were discussions during the day, led by Prof. Raman from Tata Institute of Fundamental Research, Prem Shankar Jha (assistant editor of Times), Kabir Bedi, and Vasant Deshmukh, (a noted Marathi writer). The apathy that exists among us today was a central theme in all discussions. This was not planned, it just happened. “It just is, because we don’t care to do something for ourselves.” “Why not?” Asked Jha. Kabir was questioning the students, “why don’t you as individuals get involved…do something to change the wrongs that affect your own individual lives?” The reasons were the usual ones – security, we won’t get jobs, no effect, we will be branded … The most vocal, most angry, most anxious to do something were those who had not been affluent in their lives. The wrongs of the system hit them harder and they were more engaged in the conversation. Editors of the Bombay University paper, ‘The Movement’, suggested that students send letters to them to gather strength around a particular issue, so that they can question the authorities. It is nothing more than a scratch, he said, but it is a start in the direction. Only when we begin to get a sense of identity, a sense of belonging to something that is here and now, a sense of what one is capable of, only then will we begin infusing social responsibility. Here we were brought together by the music, by the atmosphere of feeling together. It was just a start in the search for an identity.
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45 YEARS LATER ... / we_india #2
Mirra today ... 2016
You end your post with “It was just a beginning in the search for an identity.” Did you find something? And if so what?
The times were different. This was the first generation after independence. Parents had come out of nationalism all around, we were to be the builders of modern India. So the question was in everyones mind: what will independent india be. This sort of feeling, hope was the background of that feeting. All this relates to a search for an identity. We had to create our own as independent India. After 50 years we are seeing that kind of energy and feeling in the youth. They feel that they can do something, they can live out the dreams. This is occuring with jobs for youth, traveling for colleges, bikes. The music scene is very much alive and we see many different kinds of festivals going on. In those days it was sort of a first – so it was written about.
Among a few other things Woodstock clearly stood for sexual liberation – was there one major issue at the Sneha Yatra as well?
Maybe there was some discussion about it. It was a time of change. And this is an issue which is discussed at that age, when you are in your 20s.
I dont believe in these cliches like sexual liberation – what does it really mean?
Change is always there. Always. Its been extremely volatile especially in the last 20 years, with the internet, social media. So what has changed? Life has changed, and youth have changed with that.
You also write you were surprised to see so many women at the Sneha Yatra. Would you still be surprised by today?
Media feeds us all these images. At that time, women were portrayed as staying at home, kitchen, blah blah blah. Therefore the surprise. This was an insight that shaped a lot of my research on women. Women in India are extremely diverse, to see them as a single category as oppressed victims misses the diverse ways that women choose their lives. Today I would not be suprised.
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we_india #2 / WE LEARN
Government schools in India hardly meet the expectations of a growing number of Indians who are sending their kids to school. That’s why private education has become a billion dollar market, and it’s rapidly growing. In urban areas as well as in more remote areas. The market is a highly competitive one – the glossy brochures of the single institutions are “selling” education in a ready made format. They have become very creative in defining their USPs and finding their niches.
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we
WE LEARN / we_india #2
One rule fits all: The more expensive, the better. It’s much more selling a brand to parents than providing a learning experience for the child. Something has gone completely wrong and India is facing a deep crisis in NOT having the talent the country needs for its further growth. The following articles will give you an idea of what is going wrong and how it can be fixed.
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we_india #2 / OPEN PLAY-SCAPES
Open playscapes Interview with the founding team of Prakriti, Noida Bharti Batra, Mridul Batra and Shilpa Tayal. By Ulrike Reinhard
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OPEN PLAY-SCAPES / we_india #2
Prakriti is a way into happiness. It is a way into contentment, finding the direction and larger meaning of my life. Prakriti is knowing one’s own swabhav, one’s inner being. When we are in connect with our inner self, our intrinsic compass guides our way through our life. The decisions we make, the risks we take in life are supported by the inner wisdom. Accepting failures, overcoming fears and taking challenges with a constructive frame of mind makes us a happy being!
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we_india #2 / OPEN PLAY-SCAPES
When I first walked into Prakriti, I was amazed – because I saw what we were practicing in a much more freestyle way in Janwaar. I’ve met Bharti and somehow we stayed in touch. I invited her to experience Janwaar and figure out what we can do together. Bharti and Mridul came and shortly after we welcomed the first group of Prakriti kids and parents in our village.
Thinking on my feet; playing harmoniously
How did you come together and conceive Prakriti?
MRIDUL: It was 2009 and the three of us were almost, or so it seemed, at the edge of our corporate careers. Bharti had spent 10 years in the technology space and myself and Shilpa had already quit our plush banking jobs. The space on which Prakriti stands today was getting ready to be built as a primary school based on a traditional model. We all jumped in at the right time I think, guided and powered by our instinct to change what was being taught and the way things were being taught at schools. A lot of this learning had already been assimilated through our experience of learning with Mirambika, where Shilpa was a parent. Also, I think my personal journey of studying design at the National Institute of Design at Ahmedabad gave me an entirely new perspective of learning through experience. SHILPA: Having experienced an environment at Mirambika that stimulates interests, provides freedom of activity, encourages creative expression, and stimulates the child to seek new experiences, thereby optimising learning, going back to the traditional system of education was no longer an option! The plan for the physical space as well as philosophy of the school underwent a complete change.
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OPEN PLAY-SCAPES / we_india #2
BHARTI: Prakriti opened its doors to children in May 2011. It was envisioned as a space that enabled each child to develop like the inkblot – spreading wider, percolating deeper. Freedom and self-discipline went hand in hand to create classrooms without doors, open play-scapes, and, toughest of all – unbelievably small teacher student ratios. We started with 2 kids on May 4, 2011, and never looked back.
Why is the Prakriti concept needed – besides the “traditional” school ?
MRIDUL: The existing system of education fit the need of the time when the industrial revolution created a demand for a massive pool of compliant workers, trained with standardized skills to work in factories or the military. The traditional school model is a factory based model
To search is to find
where children in large number are prepared to eventually serve the industrial economy. It is driven by strict disciplining, following of rules and everyone learning the same content at the same pace, not valuing individual differences. While the industrial era has paved way for a knowledge economy, schools have unfortunately stayed the same. BHARTI: The purpose of education is to enable individuals to discover their true self, their intrinsic nature, their “swabhav”, their own prakriti. Exploration of the self and of the world around, becomes the path to discovery of their inner being.
How is Prakriti different from other schools?
BHARTI: Prakriti intends to provide an environment where children develop a lifelong love for learning. Nature programs us for learning; infants and toddlers learn without being taught. Then why is it that when children reach schools, learning becomes a chore. We all have experienced in our lives that when there is a desire to learn something, learning is easy and effortless. Learning at Prakriti follows the same principles – nothing can be taught, it can only be learnt, by experiencing, by igniting a desire within to learn, by showing the path to discovery when that desire is ignited.
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we_india #2 / OPEN PLAY-SCAPES
Whole is bigger than the sum of its parts
SHILPA: The education system remains overly focussed on the development of academic capacities, the learning of facts and figures. This completely ignores the great adventure of being human! The challenges, the obstacles, the potential for greatness! If the goal of education is to prepare a child for life’s journey ahead, and it should be, then academic learning is only a part of it. MRIDUL: Increasingly, parents and teachers all over the world are realising that schools are not preparing children to live their lives happily. The ability to think independently and creatively, arriving at solutions to one’s own problems, express one’s self without reservations, be a confident decision maker, and resolve conflict, are key abilities that don’t come intrinsically, they have to be fostered.
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OPEN PLAY-SCAPES / we_india #2
Who says maths is only about numbers
What does curriculum mean at Prakriti?
MRIDUL: Broadly speaking, our curriculum is driven and designed by the context that children bring to the classroom. There are broad themes and goals that are defined by the country’s National Curriculum Framework which we keep in mind. The ultimate objective of following an ageappropriate teaching methodology is to go beyond the incomplete understanding to deeper appreciation of concepts. In identifying the education goals we follow the overarching principle of consulting the child in the development process rather than imposing what other schools impose on the peer group. In doing so, we ensure that the academic goals prescribed are met within the years identified for early education.
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BHARTI: The emotional climate of our classrooms is loving, helpful, safe, respectful, and encouraging. This enables children to begin taking on challenges with confidence. When faced with life’s personal and professional challenges, we do not find ourselves relying on academic teachings, instead, we draw from the emotional understanding of our environment and of ourselves. Prakriti believes that the school has an important role to play in developing the individual’s awareness of one’s emotional state, learn how to manage it, learn to relate to others positively, and build healthy relationships. We cannot prepare the road ahead for the children; we have to prepare children for the road ahead. Practical spirituality emphasising inner peace and compassionate action are core to our work with both adults and children at Prakriti. When we allow ourselves to be guided by our inner compass, we take the responsibility of our happiness in our own hands, and feel intrinsically connected to creating a happier world around us. As we move into adulthood, it brings a sense of meaning in our lives, that takes us beyond the minutiae of daily existence. SHILPA: Physical education is often taken up as a co-curricular activity in schools, but at Prakriti, it is an integral part of the curriculum. The aim of physical education is not to produce champions or winning athletes, but to train the body and perfect it into an instrument capable of fulfilling its highest potential. Music, theatre, art, stories, are all extraordinarily powerful means of self-expression, self-exploration, and are a part of everyday life at Prakriti. They are woven into every theme, every project that classes take up.
What has been your biggest challenge so far at Prakriti?
BHARTI: Having consciously chosen to be out of the factory model of education, not creating an assembly line gets questioned almost everyday! With an outwardly focussed psyche, competing with oneself as a concept sounds alien. Another challenge has been in developing an insight into parents on how to assess growth in their own child, especially when they do not have extrinsic assessment tools developed to assess the strong foundation and conceptual knowledge of a child.
How do you build empathy and life skills in children?
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MRIDUL: Self-introspection and checking within whether I am really happy with my actions, speech or thought. To get the correct answer, we need to keep asking this question repeatedly till we feel content with the answer. Working in small teams, delegating tasks, assuming responsibilities, thinking deep keeping happiness of all at the centre, resolving conflicts in house at fire urgency mode, open talks with each other and most importantly, being real at real things helps children accept the diversity life throws at us.
OPEN PLAY-SCAPES / we_india #2
Independent learner, joyful learner
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we_india #2 / HOW I BECAME A PRAKRITI
How I discovered my Prakriti My earliest memories are of three year old me, standing on a wooden stool, chalk in hand, pretending the bedroom door is my blackboard, teaching my imaginary class (of three year olds!) whatever I had learnt at school that day. My mother never had to ask me what I studied at school; I would spend a couple of hours each day writing on the floor, the doors, everything that I wanted to teach my class. In class V, my teacher had to rein in my teaching instincts, when I created my mini-class of “weak” students, and proceeded to correct their notebooks and give them homework! With such strong instincts, I should have chosen education as my career, right? Wrong. A chance conversation with a young, 20 something lady, who sort of became a role model, simply because she was so impressive, totally turned me away from what was my true inner calling. The education system did nothing to bring me back, in fact, all components of society around me consciously pushed me away from a lifetime of teaching. I was a good student, good at co-curriculars, always near the top of the class, Shipla Tayal, principal at Prakriti everyone expected me to head for a career that required “brains” and would help me earn a couple of degrees followed by a fat pay packet. Class toppers don’t become teachers – I understood that quite clearly. More importantly, if I took up teaching, it would mean I wanted to become more “marriage-worthy”, because I could “manage” the needs of the family (aka kitchen and children) while earning the family a “second income”, without being overly ambitious about my career! For self-respecting, ambitious me, this description was so repulsive, that I clamped down on any inner voice raising its head in dissent and decided: I will never become a teacher! I proceeded to study finance, much to the initial disappointment but subsequent delight of my parents. The day I stepped into the workplace, I realised how meaningless being the class topper was! I knew nothing about managing teams, resolving conflicts with unfriendly peers, time management and managing bosses! My “education” had started. Five years later, when I got selected for an MBA at Insead, France, it seemed that life couldn’t get any better. There was only one problem – I couldn’t seem to answer myself satisfactorily: why did I want to do an MBA? I didn’t want a higher paying job, I didn’t want a more stressful job, I didn’t want to quit finance at that time to move to another discipline, I didn’t even want to change streams within the world of finance! The arrival of my daughter saved me from progressing further down that path. After my baby break, a few years in Australia and after having experienced what people would call a corporate career, my inner self had started to get sufficiently jaded with doing something I wasn’t enjoying any more. Something had changed while we were in Australia. I was drawn into an education system that was at least more child-friendly than the pressure cooker schooling we were used to in India. I gradually developed respect for the Australian way of life and schooling that at least thought about “creativity” in children, encouraged them to express, indulge in outdoor and messy play, and in fact, didn’t want to send kids to school till they were six years old! On our return to India, we searched for a school that wouldn't confront our daughter with fixed, preconceived ideas and standardized testing. And we were happy to find Mirambika – the alternate education school run by the Aurobindo Ashram Society, Delhi.
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HOW I BECAME A PRAKRITI / we_india #2
It was then that the second phase of my “education” began. Each word of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother’s teachings is a lesson in unlearning, undoing the conditioning that we were consciously and unconsciously subjected to during our childhood and school life. Their three principles of education · nothing can be taught, it can only be learnt, · the mind has to be consulted in its own growth and · always go from near to far, known to unknown, concrete to abstract turned all our knowledge upside down and started connecting us to our inner wisdom. We watched the diyas, as the teachers are affectionately called there, spellbound. They would work and interact with the children in complete devotion and with full attention, gently guiding and moulding them – never interfering in their work. The children enjoy immense freedom to explore their interests from the very first day, and that is how they start to settle down. Ingrained in this freedom are the seeds of self-discipline. The school requires parents to keep coming and spending the entire morning in school till the kids happily, willingly, say bye! With no academics for the first two years, the focus is on emotional strengthening, physical development, spiritual awakening – integral education. Three year olds started differentiating between gadbad soch and achhi soch (incorrect and correct thinking), started listening to their andar ka dost (inner friend), and receiving valuable lessons in doing everything “pyar se”(with love). I never once saw a child being rebuked, I never once saw a parent go scot free. One of my most important learnings was that I cannot provide solutions to my children. It is often a treacherous time for a parent when a child is struggling with a problem or a friend or is having a tough day. What I’ve learnt is that what they really want mostly, is a listening ear. Sooner or later, they will find their way. Our solutions usually won’t work for them. Having experienced an environment that stimulates interests, allows choices, encourages creative expression, and supports the child to seek new experiences and thereby optimizes learning led to the fact that working within the traditional system of education was no longer an option for me! It was then that Bharti, an IT professional for the past 10 years, and the leader of the Prakriti project. The space on which Prakriti stands today was getting ready to be built as a traditional primary school. We completed a program on early childcare and education conducted by Mirambika Resource Centre, Mirambika’s adult education wing. The plan for the physical space as well as philosophy of the Prakriti school underwent a complete change. Prakriti opened its doors in May 2011. It was envisioned as a space that enabled each child to develop like an inkblot – spreading wider, percolating deeper. Freedom and self-discipline went hand in hand to create classrooms without doors, open play-scapes, and, the toughest of all – an unbelievably small teacher student ratios. We started with two kids on May 4, 2011, and never looked back. I soon realised that being a Mirambika parent was my way discover my Prakriti. Children are the same everywhere. The challenges for parents are the same everywhere. Not a day goes by when the trials and tribulations of parents don’t strike a chord in me. Having gone through (and still undergoing) the process of unlearning and learning afresh, I didn’t realise when I became a conduit to sharing the wisdom that had made parenting more meaningful and joyous for me. This resonated with Bharti’s training in mindfulness through Vipassana, enabling her to establish a deep connect with every child as her own. Not being a parent herself, adopting an observer’s stance and understanding the working of the human mind, she is able to provide a broader platform to individuals to resolve their own conflicts, accessing their own inner wisdom. A core element of our vision for Prakriti is to help human beings just to “be”, irrespective of the number of steps they have walked on this planet. Prakriti has steered our inward journeys to finding the real me within ourselves. The seeds are being sown at Prakriti for many more journeys to begin.
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we_india #2 / I AM AN ENGINEER
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I AM AN ENGINEER / we_india #2
I am an engineer! One day Anveer send me an email. He found me on the Internet, he wanted to volunteer at Janwaar Castle (see page 76 ) and teach the children skateboarding. He stayed with us for six weeks and brought in all the soft skills he has and which he didn’t learn at school :-) 73
we_india #2 / I AM AN ENGINEER
Tell us a little bit about your family background and the way you were brought up.
Both my parents were based in and around Bombay so I grew up there till the age of 10. My mother taught home science at SNDT University in South Bombay back then, and my father sailed in the merchant navy for about 26 years. He quit sailing shortly after my younger sister was born. After he quit sailing, it was a slow transition which eventually got him to move his base to Goa where his newly setup business did much better. Three out of four of my grandparents were born an raised in what is now modern day Pakistan. They had to leave all their land, money and belongings and cross the border overnight during the partition. They had to start from scratch once they settled in India. So both, my mother’s and father’s side have seen a lot of struggle as well as a rise to better living standards over the years. I guess it’s because of that there is this unsaid expectation passed down to me (and my generation in the family) to go one step further and be in a position to provide at least the same kind of lifestyle if not better for our families in the future. While growing up I was always encouraged to give sports and extra curricular activities just as much as importance as academics. My parents were strict when it came to our behavior but were very loving and I would say lenient about most things. We were raised with certain cultural and religious values that we were expected to follow and believe in till we were old enough to find out and answer our own questions logically.
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What were your dreams when you were a young boy, when you went to school?
I think the one thing that really fascinated me since a childhood (and still does) was the moon. I would always think of walking on it one day. So yes, I do remember wanting to be grown up and become an astronaut. But my plan B was always something like becoming an F1 race car driver or maybe a Motor Grand Prix bike racer.
Why did you study engineering?
After graduating from school, I picked science as my stream for the 11th and 12th (Also known as high school – most Indian colleges offer a choice between arts, commerce and science) because I liked physics a lot and really wanted to know all of it. In class 11 I got enrolled into coaching classes for engineering entrance exams. This is what maximum students who pick science do. At that point, it just seemed like the option that made sense. These coaching classes were pretty hectic as they took up at least 5 hours of the day (after attending 5 hours of college). This wasn’t something that could hold my attention and interest for too long. This slowly resulted in me straying off my academics and spending most of my time playing truant, and a lot of football. As a result I was not doing well academically and was not in a position to choose the best for myself because I pretty much didn’t know what was happening. I just did what everyone around me was doing. Most of the people I interacted with (relatives, family, friends etc.) all considered doing an engineering degree like a golden ticket to your future. This was true maybe 20 years or more ago but I think that’s not the case anymore. I just went on with the flow barely questioning it and eventually after class 12 made it into an engineering college.
I AM AN ENGINEER / we_india #2
What was your experience at college/university – did you have the feeling you and your peers were on the right track during your studies?
I’d say college was so far the best part of my life. It gave me my space to do everything I wanted to and try out new things and make all my mistakes. I also made some of my closest friends during these years. The course can be really interesting but is also pretty pressurizing when you repeatedly start under performing and sometimes it pushes you to the very edge of exasperation . I recognized different kinds of students in college. A lot of them who did well theoretically, lacked practical applicability to astonishing levels. There were some who left the course midway and did much better with their new option they had chosen. I personally feel I wasn’t known in college for my academic results. I got involved in a lot of extra-curricular activities which is probably why I feel I learnt more in college without my textbooks than I did from what’s in them. Answering your question directly I don’t think all of us were completely inclined towards our studies, specially as we got to our senior years. I think we just figured out that there was more to creating your future in life than a single narrowly channelized approach like this one. There were so many other things we could do. But even within our field, there were many other approaches to becoming a better engineer.
You came back home to your parents house after you finished college. What has changed?
Almost everything. Suddenly there’s a fixed time to have dinner, to wake up, to run chores etc. It’s a big change to adjust to. But then there’s also so much more understanding between my parents and me now than there was before college. Back then I was a clueless child, now we can sit across each other and openly discuss and read each others mind cause there’s a match in mental frequency (at least on most occasions, hahaha). I think this has a lot to do with living on your own away from home. You learn to become more responsible about yourself. You have to find stability for yourself and this can only be done by reaching some level of mental maturity. I think this comes out in you from the way you talk, conduct yourself and see things. I guess they call it growing up? But the things that haven’t changed are expectations to probably get a certain kind of job by a certain age and that can get very burdensome at times.
Why did you NOT work as an engineer – and what are your future plans?
During my engineering I did two internships in ‘manufacturing an production’ in two companies which are well established globally. These were internships with such great learning environments and so much exposure to today’s mechanical industry. But at the end of them, I also realized this wasn’t something I’d want to do all my life. I found it too monotonous in comparison to what I thought it would actually be like. But there is so much more that falls under the vast scope of engineering. I plan on working in a field of my choice where I can make use of the knowledge and skills I’ve learnt in my course. I’m still exploring these options hoping to come across the best one :)
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we_india #2 / JANWAAR CASTLE
Janwaar Castle An introduction by Ulrike Reinhard
In India I fell in love with villages and their people. I find a pure innocence and simplicity in the village children which I can’t find in urban kids any more. It’s lost. And it’s so precious. It’s actually what makes them kids and adorable. Village children are happy, even though one would think that they are dirty, they don’t have any sanitation, very often not enough to eat, no electricity, no proper schools and so on. What I’ve learnt over the years is that this is only one perspective. Mainly the perspective of Westerners and city people who enjoy these comforts and who think that this makes them live better. I am not sure, yes I’d even say I doubt, that the village kids lack all these things. They don’t. Being and living to a certain extend with them made me better understand – at least I believe this – what their dreams are made of. I am talking about the children. At Janwaar Castle we unveil their dreams and try to make them reality – under the umbrella to improve basic village infrastructure. We’ve chosen to focus on the kids only – fully aware that this approach is rather long term. But therefore sustainable.
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JANWAAR CASTLE / we_india #2
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we_india #2 / JANWAAR CASTLE
Janwaar is a small village in a remote area of Madhya Pradesh. It’s close to Panna, four kilometers off the main road. Close to 1000 people are living there, approximately 250 children among them. No public transportation, no sanitation, no shops – maybe five to six hours electricity a day. There is a primary school and a secondary school in Janwaar. Since 2001. Since then the same principal is running the school. Avadh, that’s the principal’s name, has put a lot of effort into the school and he succeeded that today almost 100 children are registered at the school – and on average 30-40 show up on a daily basis. When the children finish 8th grade they have basic Hindi reading and writing skills, they know about maths and science and they feel educated. It gives them self esteem and confidence. Which is a very good thing. Avadh even achieved that some of the Adivasi girls enjoy scholarships in Panna to finish their 10th grade. They stay in hostels. This is much more than any “regular” principal would do. He loves the kids and is always ready to go an extra mile. In this village – Janwaar – we’ve built a skatepark. It’s India’s biggest skatepark, and a bamboo house and a very solid and robust swing. (Almost) made in Germany :-) We call the set up Janwaar Castle. We don’t compete with the school, we rather complement it. We don’t have “opening hours” – the kids enjoy the freedom to come when ever they feel like, crap a skateboard or a book or a pencil and start with what ever they want to do. There are no boundaries around the properties and no doors at the bamboo house. Everything is open and accessible. Sometimes we run special programs with the volunteers who come to work with us. Sometimes we take the kids out on excursions and other times we welcome children from cities. It’s a colorful and lively mix of all kind of things, events and happenings. The kids and the principal and most of the villagers embraced Janwaar Castle quickly and over the past one year Janwaar has changed in a way that people slowly began to understand that there are choices and possibilities out there and that they are within reach for the children of Janwaar. It’s way to early to say where we will end up but the winds of change can easily be felt. What we have done is we’ve set up a sandbox so to speak for which the principles are clearly defined (without being taught or said) and inside this sandbox everything is possible. It is up to the children what we take forward. The options are manifold. And our main goal is to get the kids ready that they can live a propper life in their village, at their homes.
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JANWAAR CASTLE / we_india #2
Our principles at Janwaar Castle Systems over objects We believe in networks and we think in networks. Janwaar Castle is a network based model. Therefore we put systems over objects and constantly ask ourselves how do we responsibly participate in the village and the area around us. Emergence over authorities We don’t tell the children what to do. We let them do, observe and then guide them in the things they’ve chosen to do. It’s not on us to decide what will be done or what is right or wrong. And they don’t need to ask for permission. They can simply go ahead and do. Pull over push Janwaar Castle pulls from the network as it needs it rather than keep everything in stock. We are agile. Resources one considers as assets actually become liabilities when one wants to be agile. Resilience over strength It is not the fittest or strongest who keeps Janwaar Castle running, it’s the one who is ready to go the long distance if needed and to achieve balance within the Janwaar Castle ecosystem. Disobedience over compliance This is a tough one for India. You don’t win Nobel prizes for doing what you’re told. We need to create environments that are resilient to the automatization of the world, and that require disobedience and encourage to ask questions. Compasses over maps At Janwaar Castle it’s much more important to navigate and find your own way in life than following a pre-defined path or a standardized curriculum. Learning over education Education is something what you do to others. Learning is what you do to yourself. And this is what Janwaar Castle is all about. Practice over theory We do. We build stuff. We fail. We do it again differently. We might fail again. Then we do it again. And we learn by doing so. We succeed. This way the kids for instance have learnt to fix their skateboards, to use their tablets and to skateboard. Without instruction. What they’ve learnt will stay with them. We over me Janwaar Castle is community oriented, it doesn’t focus on the individual. This is a natural outcome of the network and the system thinking we’ve embraced. How all of this looks in practice I could write long stories. Instead I’ve decided to let three of our volunteers speak who have written about their experiences at Janwaar Castle. I think these three stories show nicely what we are up to.
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we_india #2 / JANWAAR CASTLE
The Red Frock by Shail Desai Balloo sat in one corner of the skatepark and watched the boys show off their tricks. These were times when the golden rule, ‘Girls first!’ was forgotten, as the thrill of play was too much of a temptation to resist at the skatepark. A stern voice from the corner ordered the boys to give back the skateboards assigned to the girls. It was Balloo’s cue to get down to business. She picked up her oversized helmet and tried strapping it on, and with some help from one of the bigger girls, it finally fell in place. She gingerly walked over to an abandoned skateboard, picked it up, and walked towards the edge of the skatepark. She pushed the helmet up, even as it dropped back down and covered her eyes. One foot on the board, a little push and the other foot was on. It was almost as if the wind was doing its bit to get her attempt underway, or at least her puffy, red frock made it look so. She was geared up in tights and blue and green ankle-length shoes to match, and looked most comfortable on the skateboard, against all odds. This was an art, Balloo was still getting used to after all. It was perhaps the slowest skateboard around the park, but this girl was cruising! The arms were out and the eyes were focussed under the helmet, that dropped down for the umpteenth time. Her frock soon transformed into a sail with the wind in it – the direction hardly mattered with focus like that, and she rolled on where the momentum would take her. Balloo’s face was lost in the moment, and nothing could end her joy at this point, until of course, the wheels stopped rolling. She waited until the skateboard came to a complete halt and jumped off, pushing the helmet up. Under it was a smile, after realising what she had just achieved – it had the power to light up your day. She picked up the board, and walked back to the starting point – it was time to hit cruise control yet again.
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JANWAAR CASTLE / we_india #2
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we_india #2 / JANWAAR CASTLE
Steadfastness Text and fotos by Cassie Broadwin
Cassie was with me at Janwaar Castle for a bit more than a week
If I were to pinpoint one thing that I learned from my time with the kids of Janwaar Castle, it would be this: steadfastness; an approach to everyday life that I had previously not held so close to heart. These are kids that are growing up well-below the poverty line. Their primary meal is a simple lunch served by the government school in the village as incentive for attending class that day. They have only one or two pairs of clothing, and many of the youngest walk barefoot before they grow into shoes the village has around. They wash in the water pump on the main road. They cannot afford any type of school supplies. But these are simply facts of life. What we commonly paint as ‘backwards’ seems radically inappropriate in Janwaar. Sure, it’s village life- but it is by no means disadvantaged. These children find ways to thrive under most any circumstance, fueled by a willpower and wellbeing that is unparallelled in any of the cities I visited during my time in India.
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JANWAAR CASTLE / we_india #2
Each morning, Ulrike and I woke up to crisp air and the familiar burnt-orange kind of Indian sunlight. The weather was just beginning to turn out of the winter months, so we took advantage of it and brought our beds outside to sleep on the deck. By mid-morning, we’d caravan with the two other volunteers, Anna and Philip, making our way by motorbike to Janwaar Village, just outside of Panna National Park. The kids would hear the bike from a mile away, and already be waiting by the road when we pulled up. “GOOD MORNING ULRIKE, GOOD MORNING MOWGLI (this is what they nicknamed me on our first day together).” And we’d high-five each of them, pick up a little-one to carry on our hip, and walk as a big motley crew up to the skatepark. There was a definite language barrier between all of us. Ulrike and the other volunteers often found themselves speaking in German to each other and would have to backtrack to explain in English to me. The kids spoke only Hindi, in their local dialect. We were constantly bouncing language around, inventing new Hinglish (Hindi-English) words, and using as much body-language as possible. And for the most part – it actually worked. At least, we were able to get the main ideas across: “No school, no skateboarding!” And “Girls First!”
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we_india #2 / JANWAAR CASTLE
These are the skatepark mantras. And though they seem at first to be directions for etiquette, these two little catchphrases are meddling in something much larger. For the first time in their lives, these kids are learning work ethic. They are being held accountable. They are learning to navigate rewards and/or repercussions. If they don’t attend school that day, they are not allowed to skateboard – no ifs, ands, or buts about it. They are learning to build bridges between their interests and their obligations – any in doing so, learning to see the value of education. At least, these are ideas that we’re slowly chipping away at. Girls are always allowed to skate first. After a quick co-ed warm-up session, the girls get the park all to themselves for the first 45 minutes before the boys are allowed to join in. The girls learn their worth and see that they too are empowered to navigate the world on their own terms. The boys learn that common courtesy and respect extends across the gender-divide. And by extension, across the ethnic divides that exist in the village as well.
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JANWAAR CASTLE / we_india #2
For those who best lived-up to these park rules and managed to distinguish themselves in some way, Ulrike had the idea of rewarding them with a trip to New Delhi. Though I was not a part of the selection process, I came to understand why we chose the kids we did to be a part of this special trip. Ajay, Priyanka, Little Priyanka, Brijendra, and Doctor Kuch Kuch really are a riot, in the best way possible. These kids were ready to make waves in their own town, and prove themselves in Delhi, too. We arranged everything to the best of our abilities, (even wine-and-dining the school principal) in order to take these five kids on the trip. Even then, we had to pull a little jugaad into the equation. On the morning of, I arrived in Janwaar with the taxi driver and wrangled the five into the vehicle – “Toothbrush? Backpack? Skateboard? OK.” We peeled away from the park, past the school, with the rest of the village kids chasing after the car waving goodbye and tapping on the car windows as we passed. There was no jealousy, mostly curiosity. We didn’t make it very far. These kids may not have ever been in a car before, and their stomachs were increasingly uneasy with each bend in the road. We must have made ten stops for puking, and then dry heaving, but in time we made it to the train station in Khajuraho. The five kids, Ulrike, a puppy from the village!, and myself took our own cabin on an overnight train to Nizamuddin Station, New Delhi. The idea was not to take the kids on tour. Rather, it was to let them craft a learning experience of their own- whatever it may be. Intentionally, we did not brief them on any of the areas of town we were taking them to, the people we were to meet, the school we were to visit. We simply gave them the tools, resources, time, and confidence to engage with these areas of town on their own. Partially, this was because of the language barrier. But even more so, this approach is grounded in Ulrike’s philosophy about education all-together. Like them, I came to Delhi for the learning experience. With twenty other students and two professors, I was shepherded around the city and instructed about the history of monumental structures, guided by mapped routes, and basic Hindi-language lessons. But this method was very different than what the Janwaar kids were to experience. The trip wasn’t about the history lessons and cultural exposure, it was about enabling them to better get to know themselves. And sure enough, they brought their unwavering, sure-fire enthusiasm into building their interpersonal relationships with each other and learning about their own strengths and weaknesses. At the end of the trip, I briefly interviewed each child with the help of a translator and dear friend, Vivek. I asked Priyanka what she learned on the trip, to which she replied, “I learned about making friendships. Especially with the teacher in one of the classrooms. It was my favorite part of the trip.” To the same question, Ajay replied, “I learned to jump on a skateboard. There were some older boys at the park, and they were friendly and taught me how to jump.” It was this kind of socialization, these interactions that they will take back to Janwaar- mentorship, building relationships with their teachers, recognizing how far their enthusiasm and openness to learning will get them. It’s been three months now that I’ve been back in the states, but I still think about the lessons I learned during my time spent in Janwaar, almost daily. These children really did uphold what I call steadfast goodnature. They proved their loyalty and faithfulness to each other, their families, and village. They recognized their nationality. I saw their commitment to a system of shared values that extended well beyond relations at the rural skatepark. I saw a sense of dignity and a constant source of joy and eagerness towards learning. These kids had morals, and in terms of emotional intelligence- were leaps ahead of the city kids. They were devoted to self-improvement and had high hopes for themselves and for each other. As I’m gradually putting together a film about this entire experience, I get to relive moments through skimming old footage. I really do feel fortunate to have built a connection with this community- however rapidly it must be changing and growing on the other side of the world. Janwaar Castle is a project and a people that I couldn’t help but pour my heart into. They’re truly doing something radical in their own community, and across new generations of skateboarders in India. I press you to pay attention to the symbolism of their actions. This is momentous.
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we_india #2 / JANWAAR CASTLE
A boy who skates – Ramkesh by Mannan Gupta A young boy loves to skateboard. Like a ninja, he swings, swivers, drops and effortlessly glides from tall walls and curves. There are only a handful of kids in India who are as skilled as him. So what are the first thoughts that come to your mind when you read this? That he surely must be a city kid? Any guesses on how old this kid is? 12? 15? Even he doesn’t know exactly. Nor do his parents. He will soon write his third grade exams which entails that he must not be more than 9 years old perhaps. When I first met him he barely spoke a word or two, unlike the other kids who took an interest on any new visitor immediately. It was not that he was shy, but something else restricted the kid – was it the social restrictions I wondered. He was not alone in this situation. About eighty per cent of the kids in the region hail from the socially backward, poverty-ridden Adivasi Tribe of Janwaar village of the Panna National Park in Madhya Pradesh. I, being a rookie skater, asked the kids to teach me skating. Spending time with them, where I was the learner and they were my teacher, made them my friends in no time. Ramkesh picked me up twice when I fell while practicing and started opening up to me. This young skateboarding aficionado Ramkesh was born to a family of labourers and wood gatherers. One of the children, Ramkesh and his siblings have to work along with their parents to make ends meet. His father is a daily wage labourer, his mother gathers wood, the kids cook, clean, wash and most important of all, fetch water. Last year, it didn’t rain enough, so the region is still witnessing a draught. But life has been tougher.
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JANWAAR CASTLE / we_india #2
Ramkesh’s life has completely turned upside down with Janwaar Castle — India’s largest skateboard park made by a group of professionals from all over the world and lead by one Ulrike Reinhard from Germany. The purpose of the castle is to uplift the lives of the villagers in Janwaar, especially those of the Janwaar children.Although life didn’t get any easier, it became a whole lot more promising. Ramkesh found his passion in skateboarding. He still helps his family in every way he can, but now he has an impetus something to look forward to. Between school and daily chores, he squeezes some time out to skateboard everyday. Without any professional guidance, Ramkesh started riding the board for fun. Slipping and falling countless times, injuring bones and collecting new bruises now and then. He doesn’t remember the pain or wounds, but only everlasting moments of joy. He would spend hours and hours in the park, trying to master newer skills, or just to show-off new tricks. Within a few weeks’ time, Ramkesh and his friends were pushing towards tougher levels of skating. By the time I met him his board had become like an extension of his body. The most interesting aspect though is that Ramkesh has started taking interest in his studies. With the skateboard park’s rule – No school, No Skating — he not only goes to school regularly, but also enjoys it. Although the school facilities still need a lot of improvements, but with his own efforts and interest he can speak, write and read tit-bit of English, much better than most of his older counterparts. When I asked Ramkesh what he wanted to do when he grew up, he was mostly silent about it. All he said that he hoped to travel to Delhi and compete with the city. With the roots from where he has come, people don’t really talk about future although he is much more hopeful and keen with the self-confidence and passion he found with the help of his new friend – The Skateboard.
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we_india #2 / THE FUTURE IS OPEN!
Delhi’s air is the highest polluted in the world! Source: WHO. Ambient (outdoor) air pollution in cities database 2014
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THE FUTURE IS OPEN! / we_india #2
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we_india #2 / THE FUTURE IS OPEN!
Only a community approach can fix it! Interview with Mrutyunjay Mishra (MM), India Open Data Association (IODA) by Ulrike Reinhard
The India Open Data Association (IODA) has taken a firm stand to contribute to and fix the Dehli air pollution problem. Their approach is the first of its kind in India: it’s open in its true sense, it shares the data publicly and it has a community building process built in to raise awareness and trigger action. IODA has clearly understood that collecting data alone doesn’t fix the problem. We do need awareness and above all common action to solve this severe problem. Ulrike Reinhard has spoken with Mrutyunjay Mishra (MM), one of the founders of IODA. For more information please visit: http://www.indiaopendata.com
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THE FUTURE IS OPEN! / we_india #2
You’ve started this initiative India Open Data Association (IODA). What is it all about ?
MM, IODA : Our cycle is so to speak Data.Knowledge.Action. We collect data. We make it publicly available in an easy-to-use and easy-to-understand way and – knowing what the data is all about – we trigger action to solve problems which are of public interest. Let me give you one example. Our environment project. We started it last year at Kumbha Mela. Back then we’ve tested our open hardware machines for collecting various environment data such as dust, … The results of this field test helped us to fine-tune our machines, make them more accurate and sustainable and we optimized our software – meaning sending the data to the server and make it available. The new prototypes were ready for the odd-even experiment in Delhi in the first half of January 2016. There we’ve had the chance to compare at specific locations the measurements of our machines with those costintensive machines of the government. And it turned out we were absolutely competitive – not as precise as the high-end machines which cost more than one cruore INR, but within an tolerable variance. Government officials told us this. Our next step is to cover with at least 40 of our machines more locations in Delhi, send the data to our server and make it available on our website. We visualize the data so that it is easy to understand for the public and we provide it in cvs-format so that everyone who wants to play around with the data can use it. With more machines out there and with more location-based data coming in we can serve the public better and provide knowledge how good or bad the air in Delhi is. We assume once people know how horrible air quality at their own place is and how it affects their health – they will chance behavior. This is when our cycle Data.Knowledge.Action. is completed.
So the India Open Data Association functions as a platform …
MM: Yes, I’d like to call it a platform. Because its role is to connect ideators, makers, financiers and users. We’ll be able to very clearly show that Juxt SmartMandate, which is my existing business and one of the founders of IODA, led the role of the ideator in this environment project and also brought in some seed funding. We connected with makers in China, where we bought the open source hardware for the machines and we found makers in India who assembled the hardware and designed a handy box. A new start-up is selling these boxes out of Gujarat. Other makers were working on the software and developed a mobile app which users can download to receive real-time environment data of various locations. So this model is working. What we need to do now is to scale it. For this we need more money … but we believe we delivered a strong proof of concept.
… and IODA is setup as a membership model, a non-forprofit company. Why have you chosen this structure? Why would a for profit company join?
MM: The organizational structure allows us to have maximum 200 members – these can be individuals and these can be organizations who are really interested in the open data ecosystem in India. To become a member you pay an annual fee and the one-time joining fee which is very nominal – I think it’s 5000 INR one time and 10.000 INR annual. So it is affordable for many. And because the legal structure only allows 200 members we’ve created one additional layer called “associate members” which allows us to include more if needed. Members have one voting right. So the structure is a more democratic one. We’ll see how it evolves. Initially we are looking for academics who are working in this field. We are looking for organizations and open data enthusiasts who have been doing groundbreaking work. We are looking for mentors, people who can guide us in this whole initiative. So there is a set of initial 15-20 members coming in. Hopefully also some financiers who provide a small fund to initiate projects. That is the answers to the first part of your question. The second part – why would a for profit company join? We truly believe in the power of networks and in the power of many. The problems which we are planning to address and hopefully solve – as I said earlier – are problems which are relevant for the public. For all us. These are BIG problems
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like air pollution, waste, network-coverage – problems which can’t be solved by a single company, a single maker or even a single government. They can only be solved when we collaborate and cocreate in a transparent manner – the ideaters, makers, users and financiers. And this is why we’ve chosen exactly this structure – it’s for us the best existing legal structure to achieve all this. That’s our basis. So now suppose you are the ideator of an open data project – and “open” is the premise – and you run your own private for profit company. Just like my company Juxt SmartMandate does in the open environment project. You define the skill set needed to make this project possible. The goal is that within IODA you’ll find the makers who are interested in your idea, you’ll find scientist who evaluate your data and so on. If the idea is good enough it will be translated into a product and/or service and we’ll find funding – meaning all the people will get paid. Everyone is working for profit. So the people who are making this project happen are all for profit. But the frame set in which all of this happening is a non-for-profit entity – it provides the basic management and the platform. So it’s a fairly good structure that way.
Where are the potential revenue streams for a company?
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MM: For us at Juxt SmartMandate we see various revenue streams. Our core business is data analytics – so for us it’s business to analyze big data streams, to reduce complex data and translate the emerging patterns into easy to understand graphics and visualizations (meaning not losing any information while reducing the complexity), we structure data and provide downloadable datapackages and we might even develop desktop or mobile applications for the end-user. The person who developed the environment monitoring kit for our first project started meanwhile his own business and sells these boxes. So there are plenty of revenue streams … I am sure.
THE FUTURE IS OPEN! / we_india #2
You were also saying that everyone can use the data – meaning also people/ organizations who are not member of IODA?
MM: Yes, that’s true. We’ll provide all the data we are collecting on our internet platform in cvsformat. Everyone can download the data packages and play around with it and explore and build. All the data collected in any of the IODA-projects will be published under the a Non Commercial 4.0 International Creative Commons license, which allows the data to be shared and adapted as long as the appropriate credit is given to the creator and all the changes made are clearly mentioned. Commercial usage remains with those who initiated, collaborated and funded the project.
What is the current status of IODA?
MM: Regarding IODA as an organization I can say, that it is registered under Indian law and ready to practice. The bank account is opened and we can now invite the first members to join. We’ve already spoken to a few organizations and people and we are happy to announce our first members soon. Our website with the basic information is ready for launch. Juxt SmartMandate will bring in the environment project I was talking about earlier. The status is that 40 boxes including the software are ready to be rolled out all over Delhi. The project website is ready for launch and the mobile app can be downloaded. For a successful start it’s crucial to increase the number of users.
What other projects can you envision ?
MM: I can only speak for my own company. We are planning to bring in at least two more projects once the environment project is up and running. One is the crowdsourcing of network coverage problems and analyzing the main reasons why in India the network is so fragile in order to achieve a more stabled infrastructure. Another one is the mapping of crimes let say in the city of Chennai. The data is publicly available but it is provided in a way that it is basically of no use. We are planning to visualize it in a way that let’s say women can see on a map which areas in Chennai are known for which kind of crime at a certain time of a day. So they simply can avoid going there. This doesn’t mean that they can’t become victim in a crime – but it can certainly increase the chances NOT to become a victim. I am sure other people / companies have many more ideas … I am really curious to see IODA taking off.
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we_india #2 / DR. SHROFF’S CHARITY EYE HOSPITAL
Private Healthcare Is A Dead End Street ... Dr. Umang Mathur is the medical director at Dr. Shroff’s Charity Eye Hospital. He joined Shroff’s almost immediately after his training as an ophthalmologist 18 years ago. He got interested because his grandfather was an ophthalmologist as well, and incidentally he worked and was trained in this very hospital in 1938. During his training Umang created reasonable doubts with the way medicine was practiced. At the LV Prasad Eye Institute in Hyderabad, where he was a fellow, he saw a different way of looking at medicine. There the poor would get the best treatment and had access to cutting edge medicine. Just like the people who can afford it. For him that was a very interesting experience and he understood that compassionate good quality healthcare is possible.
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Dr. Shroff 's Charity Eye Hospital, Delhi
... says Dr. Umang Mathur, medical director at Dr. Shroff’s Charity Eye Hospital. When you look at an entire nation, especially such a huge nation as India, it cannot be that more than half of the population cannot afford healthcare. But this is were the privatization of health care is leading us. Umang is demanding a subsidy model in which everyone is enjoying high quality services and well trained doctors. And Shroff’s is proofing right that such a model is working well. Even on a very broad basis. 95
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we-magazine: At Dr. Shroff’s Charity Eye Hospital you are practicing what you call a cross subsidy model for eye care? How does this work? Dr. Umang Mathur (UM): In a cross subsidy model you have patients who pay and you have patients who don’t pay. But all of them get the same quality of services – and this quality has to be high so that people would choose to come to you. Delhi is not an easy place to practice. You have boutique clinics, you have corporate hospitals, you have government hospitals. Why would someone come to you if they have other choices? They will only come if you provide very good patient care, if you have the skill set and the technology. This doesn’t mean you need the cutting edge latest on the market high end instruments which a hospital only needs in 2 or 3% of their cases. For these services if really needed – people can go somewhere else. But the basic services you provide they have to be quality services. And then people will come to you. And then they start recognizing you as a place where they would get good treatment. And they will be willing to pay for it. And with that you are able to subsidize the people who cannot afford good quality eye care. So the fundamental focus is on quality, that you have to raise the level of services to a level that is the best in the field, and then people would choose to come to you. And those who can pay will pay. This is what we’ve found out over the years. People don’t tend to gravitate towards the free service if they can pay. And we as the hospital, we don’t make a judgment. We don’t tell anyone that you’re wearing gold or you have a mobile phone, or you’ve come in a car so you should pay. We allow the patient to make that judgment and we’ve never had a problem. we-magazine: What are the options for a patient when she or he walks in? UM: If a patient opts for the paid services then he or she can choose the doctor, they can take an appointment. In the waiting room there might be air conditioning and there will be a little less waiting time. On the subsidized side it will be first come, first serve. Whoever is the doctor available – he / she will see you. But it will be the same doctors … you just can’t choose. However the medical systems converge. The same level of equipment, the same operation room, the same systems whether you pay or don’t pay – we do not differentiate. The safety standards remain the same, the quality standards remain the same. we-magazine: And the entire hospital is financed this way? UM: Yes! We can cover almost 95% of all our costs including new equipment and everything. To bridge the gap we have to raise funds. Sometimes we wish to have a little surplus – we need good equipment, technology and infrastructure. So for that we have to look for support. But currently we cover with 40% of paying patients all our expenses. 60% of the patients that we operate are not paying anything for their service. So that’s not too bad. And with the funds we raise we are growing at about 30% per annum. Growing in the number of patients as well as in revenue. And we expand our services into the village areas.
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we-magazine: Tell us a little but about the staff and the organizational structure. UM: All our doctors are all full timers on salary. We do not get a fee per procedure. And I think that’s fundamental. I very strongly believe that doctors should not get a fee per procedure. The moment you start this you start getting more than what’s required. And to maintain ethical standards, it’s important to have the doctors salaried. At Shroof’s we are about 400 employees in the system – in all our locations. And they are all on salary except few things are outsourced like the housekeeping and the cafeteria. We are basically supporting the government’s work by taking care of patients who cannot be looked after themselves. The healthcare scenario in the country unfortunately is moving very close to a very privatized model. And for the poor it’s becoming really difficult to look after themselves. Most of the poor are spending a third of their income on medicine. One person in the family falls sick, the whole budget of the month goes out of control. So it is important that the healthcare system really needs to be looked into. we-magazine: And this get’s even worse when you leave the cities … UM: Yes, there is this a big divide in the quality of healthcare available in larger cities versus the rural, even tier 2, tier 3 cities. And that is essentially because of the quality of life that is available in these areas. Once doctors get trained, they don’t want to leave big cities – 15 to 18% of the country’s ophthalmologists are in Delhi alone. We do struggle to find doctors and paramedics to work in our satellite hospitals outside of Delhi. So what we do is we look for young bright girls essentially from rural areas where we open these hospitals – ideally when they’ve finished 12th grade because then the chances that they might drop out are lower – and we train them. Part of the course (4-5 month) is done in Delhi. part of the course is done in our satellite hospitals. These girls are trained in becoming ophthalmic nursing assistants or vision technicians. They can do refractions, slit lamp examinations, pressure tests, identify basic pathologies like cataract, glaucoma, and they know when to refer a patient. We’ve also introduced a counseling school – we need to assure that he patient understands what the doctor is saying. Many patients probably understand only 20% of what the doctor is telling them. So after the doctor has made a diagnosis and written a prescription, the patients need to be explained what they have to do. If there is a surgery they have to be explained about the surgical procedure and so on. These counselors are very important for patients to get satisfied and for them to understand what they have in their eye, what kind of intervention is required. And apart from all the technical skills we also train them in life skills so that they become confident individuals. It is not just that they become technicians. They are girls who have had a very difficult life, they have very low self esteem. Their confidence has to be built up. They have to start feeling good about themselves. We also train them in English and in computer skills. So it’s more a holistic approach. Once a girl is with us in a few weeks time you realize that these girls become very confident individuals and they feel very proud of what they are doing. And soon they start contributing back. After their initial training in Delhi they go back to our secondary centers where further training happens with the medical team there. They start going for outreach camps. They start doing refractions. They start assisting in surgery. And if you look at a doctor in the clinic, if
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we_india #2 / DR. SHROFF’S CHARITY EYE HOSPITAL
DR. SHROFF’S CHARITY EYE HOSPITAL Dr. Shroff’s Charity Eye Hospital was started in 1914 by a very charismatic Zoroastrian Parsee doctor who, after his training in the UK, came to India. At Chandni Chowk, a very busy market place across the Red Fort in New Delhi, he began to practice. Soon he became very popular. The then British government gave him the land in Daryaganj, where the hospital is still located today. On its board were a lot of very important doctors like Dr. Ansari. Shroff’s hospital started off as a pure charity hospital, and for the next 50+ years it became one of the most important eye care hospitals in Northern India. Right from Lahore in Pakistan to Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh, and beyond. This was the place that people would come to for their eye check-up. As it happens in the life cycle of organizations this hospital started to degenerate by the end of the sixties. It was not able to keep pace with technology and the quality of services, the attitude of people – everything deteriorated to the extent that the board was finding it difficult to run the hospital. They were in fact thinking of giving it back to the municipal corporation in the mid-nineties. That’s when Eicher, a corporate group, stepped in. At that time, a gentleman with the name Steven Roy, a sports’ medicine doctor practicing in the US had given up practice and had moved to India and was working at Eicher Consultancy Services. He became the CEO of the hospital. And with him and Eicher’s support, the hospital came back on stage. All the faculty was young faculty that had just come out of their fellowship trainings or residencies. Those who stayed were sent to some of the best places in the world for training. The infrastructure of the hospital was significantly improved, new equipment was bought and advanced systems were integrated. And it was then when the hospital moved from a pure charity model to a cross subsidy model.
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DR. SHROFF’S CHARITY EYE HOSPITAL / we_india #2
you have 3 or 4 assistants like them, then a doctor can very easily see about 75 to 80 patients in a day. Otherwise if the doctor has to do all this by himself, then they would probably see about 15 to 20 patients properly. we-magazine: Your are talking about eye camps, earlier you’ve used the expression vision centers, secondary hospitals – have you set up an entire “line” so to speak from rural to urban? UM: We do eye camps in village areas, but we are slowly shifting form eye camps to a vision center model. A vision center is a permanent clinic in a village area. There we train a vision technician and provide basic infrastructure. It’s run by a technician. They are not allowed to prescribe any medicine except over the counter medicines like lubricants. But they can do refractions, they can dispense glasses, they can do a quick examination of the eye to tell whether you are normal or you have pathology. These vision centers are connected to our secondary hospitals – so the technician knows where to refer to, and they setup that referral. What happens is that if a surgery is needed the patient would go to the secondary hospital but the preop/post-op happens in the vision center. This way we ensure that the patient is taken care of when any trouble occurs. We couldn’t provide this quality when we were only doing eye camps. So overall the quality of care improves. And this leads to a different behavior in the community itself. They start looking after themselves. And besides eye care patients can also do a blood pressure check, a sugar for diabetes in these centers. we-magazine: Can the people afford the travel costs between these centers? UM: That’s a very important question. So what we’ve noticed is you have to get control even on that. If you do not provide the travel, if you don’t make it convenient for the patient they will drop out. And they drop out for a very simple and easy to understand reason. The problem in the eye care happens either in the pediatric age group or the geriatric age group. So these patients become dependent on somebody to take them. So that person who takes them loses his daily wage since most of these people are daily wagers. So you have to understand that they are forced to drop out. This is why we control that as well. From our vision centers we have once a week or once a fortnight a bus service to transport the patients to the secondary centers. And then we drop them back after surgery. And we look after their food and their stay during that period.
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we_india #2 / FARMER PREM
Farmer Prem studied philosophy and then went back to his roots: farming. His ideas about farming are deeply rooted in the co-existence of mankind and nature. A philosophical approach.
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Farmer Prem by Ulrike Reinhard
Prem Singh is farmer from deep down in his heart. He was born in Badokhar Khurd, a small village close to Banda (Uttar Pradesh) and grew up in the Mahoba district in Utter Pradesh (UP). He was the first in his family who studied. All his forefathers have been farmers. And his father insisted that he would become a farmer as well. But he was the one to break the line, pushed by his wife who sold her necklace for ₹ 1,200 to finance his studies. Prem became a good student and as his educational journey went on, his father changed his mind and envisioned a career as a government officer for him. With a degree in philosophy from Allahabad University, Uttar Pradesh, he returned to Barokhar Khurd, Banda, UP, where his family was living. His decision to become a farmer was a tough one and very hard for his friends and family to under-stand and accept. A university degree meant basically a free ticket out of farming, it meant a different life as an officer and it certainly meant a career including an upgrade in society. His decision was against all odds and once again against his father’s conception. This time just the other way round. Prem started as a conventional farmer following his ancestors’ footsteps. After two years of learning, discovering and understanding he realized that most of his income was only there to pay off obligations. Bills for fertilizer, insecticides, pesticides, seeds, corruption, a bank loan for tractors – although the production was high and with the current status hard to increase, the profit was close to zero. This was the moment when he turned away from the government supported and initialized Green Revolution and started to think about alternative ways of farming. He was purely driven by the necessity to cut down costs.
Before / After The numbers you find throughout the text – seperated in before / after – indicate the changes Farmer Prem has realized in various areas in his own farm after starting Aavartansheel Farming. 101
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GRAZING LAND FOR CATTLE Before: I spent ₹ 40,000 / year for the vet treating my 20 cows. After: Today my cows are healthy. I have 40 of them and no more vet is needed. Costs are down to zero. The first thing Prem decided to do was to plant trees. And he started with mango trees. This turned out to be a very efficient way to save labour and to increase income. One acre of mango trees is much more profitable than one acre of rice or any grain product. It’s actually 8-10 times more profitable! And it requires much less labour. The second decision he made was to get rid of all the chemical fertilizer. Almost 15% of his income by then went towards the chemical industry. He started to make his own fertilizer. And the third decision which turned out to be right was that he sold all the tractors he had, because of their expensive heavy diesel consump-
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The cattle at Prem Singh's farm only eat what the farm provides.
tion. Soon after he started his own production unit with pickles from the mangos, murabba from the Indian gooseberry and pooridge from the wheat. A new income source was created. And this was only possible because he generated this one big income come source at one time, the mango harvest. Prem’s risk management so to speak turned out to be successful. Within a few years he managed the turnover and he became profitable. He could pay off the loan, his farm was running and he was ready for the next step. Aavartansheel Kheti Farmer Prem was writing a diary during this transition phase and his notes allowed him to track his decisions and all the outcomes. Based on his notes he developed the concept of what he calls “Aavartansheel Kheti” which roughly translates as periodic proportionate farming. The important thing to remember though is not the name but the process it stands for which includes much more than farming. It’s rather a guide to a farmer’s lifestyle.
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In honor of farmers
Abdul Kalam Azad, at that time the President of India, delivered a 45 minute lecture in front of farmers and during the Q&A session one student asked him why he encouraged students to become doctors, engineers, bureaucrats and NOT farmers? Why is being a farmer not a desirable job? There was dead silence. And the President didn’t have an answer. This made Prem think. He realized that farmers are hardly honored for their work and contribution to society. Intellectuals, politicians, tyrans, kings, all of them are cherished in museums – but not the farmers. In contrary farmers are rather seen as backward, foolish and dumb people. Why is this so? It’s rather surprising because without farming people cannot live a single day. People need doctors sometimes. They need advocates sometimes. They need engineers sometimes. But farmers they do need daily! Still no one is honouring them. To redefine at least India’s view on farmers Prem founded this museum. One half of the museum shows how our society has been divided into producers and nonproducers from the early days of humanity until today. The other half gives space for Aavartansheel Kheti. Prem’s farming method is explained as a solution to balance the consequences of of this division: climate chaos, cronycapitalism and the ever increasing gap between rich and poor. While giving a museum tour Prem argues that 2-300 years ago 24% of the entire world economy was fired by Indian farmers. They were playing a very vital role worldwide. But this has dramatically changed as the money and power was withdrawn from the producer into the non-producer class. The latter has become exceedingly powerful and doesn’t hesitate to use its power and money to remain where they are. Prem explains further during his tour that Aavartansheel Kheti is a way for the farmers to by-pass the dependency on the powerful and to achieve self-sufficiency and independence. And if enough farmers do practice hi sfarming method the pendulum would swing back towards the producers and empower and disenthrall them, climate chaos problem would be addressed and obviously a new balance between nature, animals and mankind would emerge.
LEARNING CENTER Before: Zero After: Humaine Agrarian Center and Kisan Vidyapeeth. Our doors are always open for the farmers.
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Mango garden at Prem Singh's farm
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“A success story in parched Bundelkhand” by Omar Rashid, The Hindu, April 26, 2016 http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/otherstates/a-success-story-in-parched-bundelkhand/ article8524731.ece
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“In UP’s parched Bundelkhand, one farmer scripts a success story, sets example” by Eram Agha, May 1, 2016 http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/lucknow/ In-UPs-parched-Bundelkhand-one-farmer-scriptsa-success-story-sets-example/articleshow/ 52066720.cms
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Video Aavartanshell Kheti as published by The Hindu, April 27, 2016 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pI7Lt729LSA
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Prem’s main premise is that farming is not possible individually. Farming should be the subject of an entire family, of a community. He says, “we need a farmer community in a village just like we need a Julaha community or a smith community – we all need to work together hand in hand on a daily basis.” If you are not in touch with your neighbour farmers you can never do good farming – and if you do so farming becomes a festival! “Everyday we have a festival here at my farm”, he says. “Every day we sit at least one or two hours with our neighbor farmers and we talk a lot about our society, our nation our family problems. We sort out our problems with each other. We eat together. For me, society farming is the heart of Aavarthansheel Kheti.” Farmers are the biggest society in India. 60-70% of all Indians are farmers! And the small and marginal farmers bring close to 80% of all the food and vegetables into the markets. So if Prem Singh’s Aavarthansheel Farming will drive change in this community the change all over India will be visible and tangible. And there is hope. Because he is successful, many farmers come and listen. Just recently a very good article in The Hindu,(1) followed by a much weaker one in the Times of India,(2) and a video (3) increased his outreach and spread his remarkable success story to a broader audience. His farm is green, he has enough water and his cattle is happy and healthy – and all this in parched Bundelkhand where many farmers commit suicide because they cannot make a living any more.
FARMER PREM / we_india #2
Biogas system
FOREST / GARDEN Before: No garden, only farmland. After: 1/3 of farmland converted into garden. Income from this 1 acre multiplied by 8-10 with significantly lesser costs. In addition to that I have dry wood, better manure and Ayurvedic medicine.
MACHINES & DIESEL Before: One tractor (₹ 7,00.000 one time investment + ₹ 2,00.000 / year for interest and depreciation) After: One small power triller (max. ₹1,00.000 one time investment + ₹ 28.000 / year for interest and depreciation). Savings: more than ₹ 5,00.000 + 1.5 l (= ₹ 100) diesel / hour 107
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FERTILIZER Before: 15% of income was spent on fertilizer. After: Today 0 % of income is spent on fertilizer. I produce my own manure at no cost. Within this frame set of society farming Prem Singh’s first advice is that the farmer must convert one-third of his land into a garden. Let it be fruit trees or a forest, let it be grazing areas for the cattle or growing medicinal plants – one-third should be converted into a garden. The result will be a much higher output with much lesser input than any kind of crop would achieve. For example: If a farmer plants mango trees in one acre of his land, these will be 50 mango trees, the minimum production of these trees will be half a ton per tree. The harvest of one acre land will be at least 20 tons – this you will never ever gain from any crop or rice! Grain would be most likely the highest in the Bundelkhand area with an output of 2.5 tons per acre. And the price which can be achieved by mangos is much higher than the price of grain or rice! So this is easy maths!
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And on top of that the farmer enriches the soil when he starts planting trees. “Every tree acts like a mineral pump”, he explains. It takes the minerals out of the soil, enriches it and gives it back for example with the falling leaves. The leaves can be used and mixed with cow dung to make natural fertilizer and give it back to the soil. It’s a complete circle which nature has created and which we have destroyed with our conventional methods of farming. We need to re-invent nature and learn from natural cycles and adapt our methods.” The farmer can get good quality manure in his own land without any additional costs if he considers to plant differently. Same will work out if a farmer would plant several Ayurvedic medicinal plants and when he adds grazing land for the cattle. In Uttar Pradesh, where he is living, he and his team have succeeded and it became a government scheme that famers who convert 30% of their land into a garden receive financial support over a period of three years. Promising results you can already see in his village: 22% of the land has been converted. 22% of the whole village land! This are almost 1000 acres. And pretty proud he adds: “I think this year we will reach the 30% because all my neighbours have planted trees. So I think this village will find a very good natural balance.” Animals are a basic need for every farm. Therefore Prem’s second advise is to keep a sufficient amount of cattle. Ideally one third of the farmland should be used for grazing. On his farm the cows and buffalos have their own guest house and they welcome every day 20 cows and buffalos from the neighbors. They graze in the mango garden, rest in the mud in their feeding ground and are completely integrated into the farm life. The cattle not only provides cow dung for the homemade manure, it’s also good for ploughing and last but not least for producing milk. The milk will be processed into ghee and then sold. To process the raw material so to speak into a product is Prem’s third advice for the farmers. His mango tree garden enabled Prem Singh to start his own processing unit. Today he manufactures 20-25 products, has his own brand (GAON = Village) which sells all over India. All products are produced according to his farming philosophy. They include hand milled daal, urad dhal, moong daal, pooridge from wheat, besan, several types of pickles – you name it. And he could sell much more than he produces. Another reason why he is eager to convert many more farmers into Aavarthansheel farmers. Already 100 farmers bring their harvest to his factory where they receive 20-25% more money than the conventional market has to offer. And if they even start to process in their own farm, Prem even pays them more. It’s a win-win-situation for everyone.
GAON (Processing Unit) Before: Selling raw material at fixed market price – e.g. Indian gooseberry ₹ 5 / kg. After: Selling my own GAON products at my own price – e.g. gooseberry jelly for ₹ 100 / kg at ₹ 65 costs. 109
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POND WATER Before: Underground water. After: 50% less energy costs. Far better water quality which results in 30% more productivity.
Pond at Prem Singh’s farm
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Singh’s concept of Aavartansheel Farming is embedded in the deep understanding that in nature a model of co-existence and collaboration is at work. Darwin’s theory of the Survival of the Fittest has no place in his thinking. For him there is no profit and no loss in nature. There is only prosperity for all. And he argues that our actions should not depend on loss. There is always qualitative growth. Look at soil for example: soil is very rich and all the plants withdraw what ever they need from it. And in a circle nature has created the plants give back to the soil and always much more than they’ve taken. Plants qualitatively improve the soil. So the soil becomes richer and is therefore able to be fruitful for the plants again. Same holds true for animals. What ever animals take from the plants, they’ll enrich it and give it back – cow dung is an example for that. It contains a lot of microbes which increase the fertility of the soil for the best of plants and animals. And all of this is happening in proper balance and proportion. And this is what farmers should cherish! If they perceive that there is coexistence in nature their perception for farming will change.
FARMER PREM / we_india #2
SOLAR ENERGY Before: Monthly electricity costs: ₹ 25.000 + ₹ 20.000 back-up / repair due to electricity cuts. After: ₹1,00.000 investment. Yearly electricity costs: ₹ 7.200
Prem’s model would be incomplete without the demand that education, justice and health should be free for all of society. They should be either provided by the government or they should be under self-governance of the citizens. He argues that they are fundamental for citizens in general and for the farmer’s survival in specific. In the existing government structures there is too much corruption – and at the end of the day the consequences of this corruption cost the Indian government and economy much more than these free services would ever require.
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Outcome and Outlook It has been quite a journey for Farmer Prem. 20+ years ago he started the transformation process on his own farm around which he then developed the Aavartansheel Kheti concept.
The concept of Aavartansheel Farming
The numbers we’ve given throughout the text in the Before / After blocks show how significant and successfull the outcome of Aavartansheel Kheti is. Today Prem Singh is a rockstar famer and has a voice in Uttar Pradesh’s agriculture eco-system. Together with his neighbour farmers he celebrates farming every day. At the so to speak “reception area” of his farm house you will see them sitting, eating, discussing and laughing – especially during the early morning and early evening hours. Under the shadows of an Amla tree farming has become a festival. There is a constant flow of visitors from all over India – they want to see and feel his farm and learn from the transformation he went through. His doors are always open.
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Prem’s farm is running without him being actively involved in the daily procedures, his processing unit is selling Aavartansheel Kheti products (GOAN) and his Learning Center (Humaine Agrarian Center) is attracting more and more students. No wonder he is up to new endevours. His thoughts are all on how to scale the concept and get many more farmers involved. His next steps are already very much defined. He will establish a famer producer organization (FPO) which will tie the bonds between the member farmers closer and make them stronger as a community, he is thinking about a farmer incubator for which he will raise funds to support single famers to start their own transformation processes and he has already established a Kisan School. In September 2016 the first Aavartansheel Kheti management course will be held. It encourages young people to become farmers and give them the opportunity to learn the necessary skills to tackle the future challenges of agriculture. During the three week course the students will learn the basic principles of Avartansheel Kheti. It aims to train (young) people to become successful farmers – no matter if they work on their own farm or on someone else’s. Furthermore the school provides contacts to land owners who are looking for farmers to run their farms and connects the students with them if necessary. All selected land owners are committed to Avaratansheel Kheti and they will pay a fair salary to those who run their farm. The three week course is split into three parts. During the first week the students will learn and discuss the theory of Avaratansheel Kheti. In the second week they have to translate the theory into action on a farm. This includes the collection of topography data of the farm area, weather, local transportation, social and other available infrastructure in the area. During the third week the students will design a Avartansheel Kheti model farm guided by agriculture, water, soil and energy experts and based on the data they’ve collected. The journey continues. No doubt. His will continue to fight the Green Revolution and other policies which played a big role in dismantling the traditional structure of farming and pushed the farmers to the mercy of unsustainable methods. And he will re-vitalise the devastated morale of the Bundelkhand farmers and guide them into a prosperous future.
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The stunning landscape is a major draw for visitors
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How we are slowly killing Leh by Shail Desai (text and fotos)
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Shail (left) is a Mumbaibased writer who seeks to explore the unknown.
The region of Ladakh is one of the northernmost parts of India in the state of Jammu & Kashmir. It’s closely related – both culturally and geographically – to Tibet, from which it is separated by the mighty Himalayas. There was a time few outsiders visited these parts. Leh, which is the major town of Ladakh alongside Kargil, was a hub during the Silk Route days when trade flourished in these parts. The most prized possession was the famed Pashmina wool, which came from the sheep and goats that grazed on the high pastures, and a lot of locals depend on it to this day.
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The city of Leh lies in the shadow of the Leh Palace
With Tibet across a few high passes, the area also transformed into a major learning hub, and a number of monks and students of Buddhism passed through the region, spreading and gaining knowledge alike. Ladakh was opened up to tourism as recently as 1975, and that year, some 500-odd visitors made the long trip here. The barren landscape and virgin lakes captivated adventurers, while the monasteries enchanted those who were inclined towards spiritualism and learning. But there were few takers back in the day due to the gruelling journey here. “I would say there
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The villages around Leh such as Ulley are located in some of the most pristine settings
would be a maximum of five trekking groups each summer,” says Nasir Ahmed, who has been in the trekking business for the last three decades. “Since no one had been here before, it held a mystery of sorts for outsiders, few of whom had been exposed to such diversity,” he adds. The dusty slopes descend into valleys, some of which are green today – an oasis in the middle of a dry desert – after locals settled down here, and through a well-laid out irrigation network, took to cultivating the land. Then there are the high peaks that are snow clad around the year, while regions such as Nubra Valley even have sand dunes and Bacterian camels. The mighty Indus, which has its source in the Tibetan Plateau, flows across this region, before meeting the Zanskar River at Nimoo and continuing westwards. For six months of the year, Ladakh, which has a population of around 2.7 lakh, gets isolated from the rest of the country when the passes get snowed out, and the only way to make it here is by air. The solitude made it the perfect breeding ground for wildlife such as the elusive snow leopard, the wolf and ibex among others. “This area may look like it has not much to offer,
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but it has abundant wildlife with a few endemic species such as the Ladakh urial as well,” says Snow Leopard Conservancy-India Trust’s Jigmet Dadul, who has been a snow leopard tracker for the last 17 years. What’s on offer then is a delight for travellers and tourists alike, and boom time, come summer for the local tourism industry. Such is its popularity that a lot of the youth puts education on the backseat to chase the new-found money. The extra income has handed the locals a better standard of living with access to modern amenities in homes and vehicles. It has also made education possible for the children, with a number of them studying in renowned institutions in cities such as New Delhi, Bangalore, Srinagar and Jammu. “It’s a quick buck to make, especially in the summer. In fact, most hotel and guest house owners close shop during the winter as they make enough money during season,” says Wasim Ahmed, who runs the Palace View Guest House.
The Chadar trek saw close to 7000 visitors this season
And there lies all that’s wrong with Ladakh at the moment. In the summer, Ladakh sees close to a 50,000 visitors, which is great for the local economy but has proved to be a serious deterrent when it comes to environmental conservation. While 119
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The melting snow and ice is one of the major sources of water for the town of Leh
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the demand has led to several new establishments, which tax local resources, it has also increased the vehicular traffic to various tourist hubs such as the Pangong Lake and Nubra Valley. These increased numbers have been an additional burden on the bare necessities, which are already running scarce for the locals here. The offseason that was winter too draws a lot of people now. The Chadar trek – one of the most stunning walks on the frozen Zanskar River – saw about 7000 trekkers between the start of January until mid February this year. Sanitation was a major issue during this time on this fragile ecosystem with no plan in place, while the sheer numbers meant an increase in the garbage generated. There was additional stress on the frozen ice, which was broken in parts due the weight on it, in additional to the changing climate. The lure of money has come at the cost of the environment. Ladakh’s remoteness means that it has to be self-sufficient for all its needs, whether it’s water or garbage disposal. With changing weather patterns, the perennial streams that originate from the melting glaciers are slowly dwindling. Add to that the demand from the ever-growing number of hotels and guest houses, and Leh is looking at an uncertain future. “I remember there were about seven natural sources of water around my guest house. Just three remain as the rest have dried up,” says Ahmed. The locals then decided to tap the ground water, and each establishment dug their own bore well to source water. But that too seems to be a temporary solution at the moment, even as the water table steadily drops lower. It’s the same story for the tons of garbage that is generated, especially with the influx of tourists in the summer. Dumping it near Saboo was thought to be the solution, which has led to a valley of trash that takes an age to decompose due to the cold weather. So now, they simply burn off most of it, leading to environmental degradation. This in turn has affected the wildlife. The human presence, construction work on roads and global warming have forced them to find remote locations, higher up the mountains. The relative isolation of their territory makes it hard to track them, which further makes it a task to estimate their numbers. This summer, Leh will once again see the crowds pouring in and it’s a matter of time before the resources run dry. Local NGOs and citizen groups are in the process of compiling a list of recommendations and presenting it to the local hill council. How they go about implementing it will decide Ladakh's future. It is worth the watch, before this picturesque region meets a fate, akin to most hill towns in India.
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Rock Art of Panna
What does it mean for the local people living there?
By Shekkar S. Kolipaka, Leiden University Some people may wonder why an article about Rock Art is published in a magazine about data. It might seem strange – but I don’t think it is. Rock Art is data. Data of a very specific kind. It has a very specific meaning to the local people. And the meaning can only be provided by these locals – nothing written or published anywhere else about it. If we learn to understand and read it right, it does make a lot of sense and provides insight and at the end understanding of people’s behaviour.
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Fig.1: Deer with arrows shot into it, hunter and a long horned bovine on the right.
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Pictographs Fig.2: Pictographs on the left and petroglyphs on the right on shaded rock face.
Rock Art in Panna – What does it mean for the local people living there? A goat herder pointing towards the distant hills of the Panna Tiger Reserve said, “You will find Khoon se bana chitre”, which translates to paintings made in blood. Surely, I did find a large panel of naturally well-preserved pictographs and some petroglyphs in rock at the site he pointed. Rock art in the form of “pictograph” meaning painted image on rock and “petroglyph” meaning an image of sorts cut into the rock surface, are found in parts of the Vindhya Hills of Central India, where Panna Tiger Reserve is located.
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Fig.3: Tiger chasing langur monkeys
Petroglyphs Fig. 2: Continued
In Panna, rock art is found in caves and along shaded parts of the rocky escarpments. Since I did not ďŹ nd literature on how local people in India constructed meaning of these old forms on rock I decided to talk to people in rural Panna to understand what it meant to people living in the area. My decision to talk to local people was also motivated by the fact that at some of the rock art sites new drawing appeared next to those that looked aged and old. There was also considerable dierence in the way subjects were drawn suggesting changing styles and variations in the practice. Does this mean that local people are actively practicing rock art even today? What are the new motifs and images that they paint? What meaning did local people construct of the images that are found on the rocks? What does the art mean to them? What may be the underlying reason behind the need to paint on rocks? With these questions pondering in my mind I started asking local people about rock art in Panna. I also found out that interpreting rock art accurately is a much specialised skill and pseudo-experts were in plenty. Since areas in Panna were historically ruled by Gond Adivasis (native inhabitants) of Central India and since remnants of their extinct, annihilated kingdom are still found it Panna, I wondered if the rock art of the region revealed interesting facets of ancient human and animal life in the area.
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Powerful spirits dwell in forests Forest dwelling villagers of Panna relate rock art with animistic spirits. They see rock art as the work of spirits and not mortals. Most forest dwelling rural people of Panna believe that powerful spirts inhabit the natural world. They believe that the spirits are powerful and have the power to harm them and also to safeguard them from dangers and hence they revere them and worship them. People described tens of different types of spirits they worship. Examples include; spirit of their ancestral Gond king “Sabbal Shah” and his invincible army of horses and troops. Others spirits include the spirit of the tiger, of the Thakur baba (headless horseman), Maata the female spirits and others. Contacting spirits is done with the help of a spirit medium. One evening, Asharam who is my guide and a local spirit medium during the course of our conversation narrated a story about Sabbal Shah, the ancestral Gond king. He told us that during full moon nights, in the very late hours, Sabbal Shah and his troops moved out in procession and one could hear the snorts, squeals, and blows of horses, the jingling sounds of bells that are tied to the horses’ ankles and the whispers of troops as they talked and walked in unison. I could see that listeners were fascinated by the narrative and some ladies shifted positions and got closer to each other. Asharam announced, “There is no reason to fear Sabbal Shah. He and his troops are out on patrol to ensure our safety. However, if a person has bad thoughts in his mind or if a person schemes against another people with intent to harm them, Sabbal Shah will punish them.” “Even I cannot save you from his wrath”, he said. The next morning I showed him the photograph of a pictograph I made in the remote forests of the area that matches every detail in the narrative Asharam made of Sabbal Shah and his army the night before (Fig: Below). He took a long deep breath and said, “Raja Sabbal Shah”. He turned to me and asked, “Where did you find this Khoon ka Chitre – Picture in blood.” “I only heard from my elders that such pictures are found in the forests. It must be a truly special site.” During our chat that continued that afternoon Asharam and other fellow villagers told me that if a spirit wants to communicate a message to people an image appears on the rocks. Such pictures are then found and interpreted of their significance by experienced spirit mediums.
Sacred animals Villagers believed that some wild and domestic animals were sacred religious symbols and some animals were special to the spirits. Animals that were considered sacred and religious were not harmed by the villagers and instead revered as holy even if the animals were dangerous predators like tigers. One villager said, “If animals that are sacred to the spirits are harmed spirts will get annoyed and unleash difficulties on to the offender”. A remedy in such a case would involve making expensive offering to the spirits to pacify them”. Most villagers acknowledged animals painted on rocks as sacred animals and even worshipped them. Some of sacred animals include cows, nilgai antelopes, tigers, monkeys, birds, snakes and others.
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Fig.4: Pictograph of people riding animals, Panna Tiger Reserve Fig.5: A animal that looks like a bull appears on a rock face in Panna.
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Fig.6: A drawing of an Headless horseman or Thakur baba, a power spirit that local people in Panna revere and worship.
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Fig.7: A nilgai antelope. A young baby in drawn on the stomach area of the antelope depicting a pregnant nilgai.
Nilgai is a Hindi word and in English it translates to blue cow. Nilgai are wild herbivorous animals closely related to the cows and antelopes but are not domesticated. However, local people commonly refer to these animals as blue cows and avoid killing or harming these animals. People also tolerate the animals when they raid and damage crops. Fig.8: Humpped cattle of India. The hump is most pronounced in male cattle.
Humped cattle of India are commonly revered as sacred animals. People who do not use them for farm work abandon male animals, which become feral and roam forests throughout India. Law and local customs prohibit their sale to slaughter houses. In Panna such male cattle are important source of prey for tigers. People in Panna refer to rock art justifying their beliefs in the bulls sacredness.
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Forest dwelling people are aware of rock art and they visit sites on special occasions but they do not actively go around and create more drawings. Only on very special occasions like spirit ritual ceremonies a symbol or two are added to existing panels by local priests. It is a widely held belief that rock art should not be interfered with or it would unleash the unknown upon people. However, some level of destruction by infusing graďŹƒti and through destruction of rock panels that hold the art are recorded in Panna.
Some villagers view rock art as sacred and as evidence of spirit prophesies. For example in one drawing that contained big cats and a hunter (Fig 7). The dotted cats are interpreted as mythical spirit animals (dotted lines) and beyond the reach of hunters. The villagers refused to accept that tigers can be killed by mortal men insisting that they are spirits and hence indestructible. They felt that if tigers became extinct in a forest that forest had lost its spiritual character. Tigers as a species went locally extinct during 2008 as a result of poaching in Panna. In 2009 the reserve management started a reintroduction program of the tigers. During a conversation with a group of villagers in Panna in 2009 they mentioned to me that the old tigers of Panna, those that became extinct, were special and that villagers had a special relationship with them. Here the villagers are referring to the tiger as a spirit and the relationship as a pact between villagers and the spirit tiger, which ensured villagers protection. They feared that the proposed
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reintroduction of tigers is a bad idea because they did not have established pacts with the new tigers and they feared the prospect of living and using forests with tigers with which they did not have established pacts. So they complained. In the summer of 2014 as part of tiger management a tiger had to be caught but proved very diďŹƒcult. To keep the morale of the sta high the reserve manager commissioned a spirit ceremony to tame the tiger. Following the ceremony the tiger was caught successfully and villagers interpreted the event as proof that the
Fig.9: Also includes above
newly released tigers in Panna could be contacted through ritual ceremonies. Villagers also interpreted the occasion as an indication that they could successfully contact and make pacts with the new tigers too. In a rural area such as in Panna, where traditions and traditional way of life still prevail rock art has relevance even today. For many forest dwelling people in Panna rock art is spiritual, it is religious, it is interpretable, and it helps maintain a sense of continuity between the present (living) and the ancient (past) and also link the living world with that of the spiritual.
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