fieldnotes

the scourge of hunger and tuberculosis

2012-01-21T22:24:00.005+05:30

Raja Baiga is 9 years old and weighs 10.8 kg. That is the normal weight of a two year old child. He has tuberculosis, as do both of his parents. His father has completed treatment, the mother was only recently diagnosed to have sputum positive TB, and weighs 27 kgs herself.

A passive and sad looking child, Raja spent three weeks at Ganiyari with us. At discharge he weighed 12.4 kg, his appetite had improved, and he was more active and cheerful.

He and his mother will not go back immediately to their village Kurdar which is on top a mountain and inaccessible, but will stay at the foothills in the village of Karhikachar where his grandmother lives. There he will be enrolled in a day-care centre run by JSS (normally only for children between 6 months and 3 years of age). His diet at home will be supplemented by daily eggs and khitchdi with oil, as well as sattu.

We hope that the anti-TB medicines and the improved diet will help him overcome this infection. Is there some treatment for his chronic hunger as well?

hungama over hunger

2012-01-15T16:57:00.007+05:30

the recently released hungama report tells us what we already know: almost 50% of children are underweight, which means that nearly half our children go to bed hungry every night. a national shame, if there was one.

seen here is shiva of chaparwa village, grinding garlic to make a gruel to give his younger brother vishnu who was crying with hunger. there is nothing else edible at home, and both parents have gone out to work. shiva, 5, is confident he can wait till the parents earn, buy some food, and come home in the evening. he hopes the garlic and water gruel will help vishnu, 2 years old, to stave off his hunger pangs for a while.

2011-12-03T22:56:00.022+05:30

naresh baiga, 10 years old, with tuberculosis of the foot and leg bones, was unable to stand when he first was brought to our clinic at bamhni. fortunately he has responded well to treatment.
when we visited bahoud last week, i went to his house to see how he was doing. we found him in the street, playing in the dirt with his friends.

choitram baiga, 38, however, has not been so lucky. he has multi-drug resistant tuberculosis, and continues to be unwell in spite of over a year of treatment. he is being provided with what are called second-line anti-TB drugs, which are expensive, and need to be given for a longer period of time than the usual course of medication.
earlier this year he had sold his few his goats and pigs to raise Rs. 6000 in order to hire a tractor to help till the 5 acres of land he has been given here at new bahoud. in spite of that, the rice yield has been poor, and will last his family of 8 for three months. the BPL rice does not last the entire month for the family. the oldest son, 18, works and keeps enough money aside to buy a kilo of arhar daal every fortnight for his father.
choitram's main worry now is how his family will survive this coming year. he is now unable to walk and drags himself around on the ground once someone helps him off the bed.

tuberculosis continues to be a serious and widespread problem in rural india. this small village of bahoud has three patients with severe forms of tuberculosis. the risk of death due to TB increases as the body mass index of the patient reduces. that means that a malnourished person is more likely to die of tuberculosis than a well-nourished patient is.

Resettlement, two years on.

2011-11-28T14:50:00.015+05:30

Bahoud village, relocated from within what is now the Achanakmar tiger reserve, to a place several kilometres away. It sits in plain view of the road from Bamhni to Khudia, neat rows of whitewashed buildings, complete with electricity poles along the street and wide cemented roads. This is the village that has been showcased as an example of the Government's resettlement and rehabilitation policy - surely these neatly laid out concrete houses and broad streets are far better than the inaccessible village the Baigas inhabited earlier?
Two years on, most houses have a fence of twigs around them; now in December, several houses have the rice harvest in, ready for threshing.
I visited the village on Friday, to follow up some patients we had seen in our clinic.
What struck me was the solar powered street lights at the corner of each street: why this in addition to electricity, I wondered. Each house has a ceiling fan fitted, as well as a CFL in two of the four rooms. Each house also had a small solar lamp they had purchased at a discount from our NGO, and this was their only source of light at night.

Tugur Baiga sits outside his house warming himself in the sun. I ask him about the solar panels and the electricity poles and wires. There is no provision for electricity supply to our village, I am told. None of the villages nearby have power either.
He has been given five acres of land in this new location, but it is on a slope and does not retain water. So the rice he has harvested is the same quantity as he would get on his 1.5 acres within the forest. After the harvest, we used to supplement our income with forest produce like sal seeds, but now there is nothing, he says. Given the choice would he like to return to his original village? I ask him.
Choice? When do we ever have a choice? he answers. We were bundled here in trucks and left under a few trees, and had to live through the summer and the rains while the houses were built. Now our house has a number.
Do you own your house? Do you have any papers for it? No, he says, nothing.
What about the patta for the five acres? No, there is no talk of giving us a patta, he says. I dont know anything about it.
Why don't you ask for it through your Gram Sabha? He thinks for a while. When our Gram Sabha met, we raised the issue of another drinking water source - this large settlement has only one borewell at one end of the village. The Government had also promised to help with tractor facilities for five years to clear our land of stones, and we have asked that they be reminded of that. But it is two years now, and they have not done it, I wonder if they ever will. Tugur sounds discouraged and resigned.
It is the same story in every household I visit.
I visit the anganwadi centre in some anticipation: one of our staff had reported on CGNet Swara earlier this year that the centre was not receiving rice for the children's meal, and that they had to make do with chana and murra. This had received quite a bit of publicity, and when he visited the village three weeks later, he found the children being given cooked food to eat. We felt encouraged - our report had made the difference, we thought.
The centre is run in one room of the house belonging to the helper. It was brightly decorated with charts on the wall and a mat on the floor, and scattered about it were grains of murra. I asked the helper how many children she had cooked food for that day. There are 30 children who attend, she replied, but I don't cook, since there is no rice supplied. I asked about the rice that was served in April when my colleague visited. Oh, that was the time of the Gram Suraj Abhiyan, when all the officials come to every village, she replied. Before their visit a 50kg sack of rice was provided. But after that, there has been nothing. Indeed, when I look at one of the registers kept there (no growth register or immunization register was available), the last three entries are a flurry of visits in April, with recommendations and remarks: made, no doubt before the bureaucrats and politicians descended on Bahoud for a day to listen to the problems of the aam aadmi.

Development with a human face.

learning BLS

2011-11-23T15:56:00.003+05:30

this is a picture of some of our staff learning to administer cardiac massage on a dummy. we plan to train a few people in each village in this life-saving technique.

The Kodekasa Kanyashram

2011-09-30T18:09:00.020+05:30

The village is set in a valley, green and verdant now at the end of the monsoon, and as you look down from the top of the road, the houses are to the left, and the various institutions to the right – first is the middle school set in a large ground, then the sub-centre, the panchayat office, and the primary school with the anganwadi in the same compound. Kodekasa is a panchayat headquarters village and the road that runs through it is in a good state of repair.

We had come to meet the ANM who lives at the subcentre here, but she is away to visit her mother who is unwell. We met the Mitanin there, a cheerful woman who has been working as a mitanin for the past ten years. We are now headed back to Dalli and I stop for a last look at the village.

I am standing outside a building surrounded by a wall, with nothing outside to indicate what it is. Only the numerous clothes drying on the wall tells me that it may be a hostel of some sort. Dr Prathap who is with me in the jeep says he would like to see if anyone there has fever (this being the start of the malaria season), and he and the driver set off inside while Temin the nurse and I wait on the roadside enjoying the sun.

They are back in a couple of minutes: it is a girls’ hostel, they say. Temin and I go inside to meet the staff and students. We are able to walk right in, through the gate, through the front door, into the dormitory, into another large room with a water cooler installed (there is no running water in the hostel), and I glimpse more rooms beyond.

The entrance to the dormitory has pictures of Gandhi and Ambedkar on it. To the right is a small board stating this is the Kodekasa Kanyashram (Girls’ Hostel), with an intake capacity of 50 boarders. To its left is a large board giving details of the number of students there. At present there are 30 of them. No other details of whom to contact, who is in charge, no name of the warden, nothing.

My knocking on the door brings three girls out from somewhere inside, and they are soon joined by some of their friends. Today being a holiday, they are not in the middle school fifty yards away.

The dormitory is large and airy, but poorly maintained, and has twelve neatly made beds in two rows. At the far end of the hall is a row of tables with six computers on them. I am impressed and ask whether they know how to use them. No, they say, the computers are out of order. Since when? I ask. The oldest resident there has been in the hostel for three years, and the computers were already there and not functioning at that time, she replies. I ask for their warden – there is no one here, they reply. Has she gone home as it is a holiday? No, there is no warden.

Who takes care of you?

There is Ahilyabai the cook, they reply. Temin goes in search of Ahilyabai, fails to find any adult in the place.

Meanwhile, I try to start the computers – none of the UPS units are functioning, nor are the computers. Understandably, the tables are left alone and everything is coated with dust and cobwebs. There is electricity though.

Some of the computers at the kanyashram.

There are 30 of us girls here, they reply to my question. I ask if there is another dormitory as I count only 12 beds here.

No, they say, all of us sleep here, the smaller ones are 2 or 3 to a bed. We join the beds together at night so that no one falls off.

The dormitory - 12 beds for 30 girls

They attend the middle school that is next to the hostel.

What happens when you fall sick?We go to the village and call our parents and then we go home, they reply.

Don’t you see the ANM who lives here?No.

Don’t you ask the Mitanin to give you some medicines?No, we just go home.

How far is home? Quite far. If we are very sick, our parents come and get us, otherwise we go by ourselves.

Who do I have to ask if I want to get someone to repair the computers?Thakur sir.

Where does he live?In Lohara.

Lohara is at least 10 km from here. No,they don't have his phone number.

The girls are happy that someone has visited, but are shy to talk. I am wary of asking probing questions in case they get into trouble for talking to a stranger. They want a picture taken with the nurse. Temin and I then leave, with all the girls crowded at the gate and waving to us. Just past the bend in the road after the hostel, barely 50 feet away, is a small shop: cycle-repair and petty shop in one, and at this moment there are five young men sitting there and talking.

I leave with many questions in my mind. Who is supposed to be in charge here? Surely there cannot be a residential school for young girls with only the cook who may and may not be there all the time? What about security – all four of us in the jeep could walk in unchallenged. What if some men decide to walk in and harass the girls or worse? Who do they turn to for help? What if one of them has an accident or falls ill – no first aid or simple medication available there? And what about the budget – if the stated capacity is for 50 boarders, surely there must be a provision to purchase 50 cots and mattresses for them? Who purchased the computers, or was it a donation of used ones? Who set it up and why did no one come to check that they have not been working for at least three years? Obviously their parents would like them to study beyond primary school – after all, that is what many of us say is the basic requirement for empowerment of women. Is this what the state offers them?

kakna

2011-09-13T13:00:00.006+05:30

i was conducting a training for nurses in sarguja district last week at a place called kakna, 18 km from ambikapur. the night train between durg and ambikapur takes about eight hours from usalapur (near bilaspur) to get there, but the journey was comfortable.

my brief glimspe of ambikapur left me wide-eyed: a huge bustling market, good roads (no significant potholes at least in the market areas and the centre of town, unlike in bilaspur which is one endless series of potholes of varying dimensions all over the city), and large showrooms with branded products. when i worked here, first in 1987 for a year, then in 1992-93, it was much smaller, without a rail-head. traveling to ambikapur meant an eight hour bumpy bus-ride from bilaspur, with at least two punctures guaranteed on the way. both towns were still part of madhya pradesh at that time.

kakna is a silent haven, a lush green valley ringed by hills with no internet access, and poor cellphone connectivity. a perfect place for training. the only downside was the prolonged powercuts but an inverter ensured that the projector and laptop could be used without interruption. keeping the 25 nuns and myself company on the campus were kajal and kalloo the dogs, and changoo the kitten. it rained practically incessantly, with occasional spectacular thunder and lightning thrown it for good measure.

the RAHA centre at kakna is a perfect place for a retreat or for solitude if one wants to write a book. unfortunately i do not have any photographs to share.

more on lungis

2011-08-16T10:08:00.004+05:30

contributed by another soul with ancestors from kerala, but now from all over india like many of us. he has also kindly contributed the photograph of lungis in mumbai.

Some trivia:

- Lungi Utao. Pungi Bhajao was the slogan used by Shiv Sena during their anti south campaign in the 70s. But then most madrasis were tamil, telugu, mangalorean, kannada and yes, malayalis.

- Bengalis also wear lungi.
- The Burmese national dress is also Lungi,

- Most brands of lungis that you buy are packaged/designed for a muslim audience and that could be Mal, Tam, Bengali.
- Kannadigas also wear lungi. Except they like to stitch the ends like a sack with a hole.

Lungi - The Legend

2011-08-15T09:37:00.006+05:30

read on- this is not only about mallus: there are contributions from others as well.

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Lungi - The Legend : A Tribute to Our Mallu Friends

Author: Unknown (US Citizen, born in Kerala )

Just as the national bird of Kerala is Mosquito, the national dress is 'Lungi'. Pronounced as 'Lu' as in loo and 'ngi ' as in 'mongey', a lungi can be identified by its floral or window-curtain pattern. 'Mundu' is the white variation of lungi and is worn on special occasions like hartal or bandh days, weddings and Onam.

Lungi is simple and 'down to earth' like the mallu wearing it. Lungi is the beginning and the end of evolution in its category. Wearing something on the top half of your body is optional when you are wearing a lungi. Lungi is a strategic dress. It's like a one-size-fits-all-bottoms for Keralites.

The technique of wearing a lungi/mundu is passed on from generation to generation through word of mouth like the British Constitution. If you think it is an easy task wearing it, just try it once! It requires techniques like breath control and yoga that is a notch higher than sudarshan kriya of AOL. A lungi/mundu when perfectly worn won't come off even in a quake of 8 on the richter scale. A lungi is not attached to the waist using duct tape, staple, rope or velcro. It's a bit of mallu magic whose formula is a closely guarded secret like the Coca Cola chemicals.

A lungi can be worn 'Full Mast' or 'Half Mast' like a national flag. A 'Full Mast' lungi is when you are showing respect to an elderly or the dead. Wearing it at full mast has a lot of disadvantages. A major handicap is when a dog runs after you. When you are wearing a lungi/mundu at full mast, the advantage is mainly for the female onlookers who are spared the ordeal of swooning at the sight of hairy legs.

Wearing a lungi 'Half Mast' is when you wear it exposing yourself like those C-grade movie starlets. A mallu can play cricket, football or simbly run when the lungi is worn at half mast. A mallu can even climb a coconut tree wearing lungi at half mast. "It's not good manners, especially for ladies from decent families, to look up at a mallu climbing a coconut tree"- Confucius

Most mallus do the traditional dance kudiyattam. Kudi means drinking alcohol and yattam, pronounced aattam, means random movement of the male body. Note that 'y' is silent. When you are drinking, you drink, there is no 'y'. Any alcohol related "festival" can be enjoyed to the maximum when you are topless with lungi at half-mast and a towel tied around the head. "Half mast lungi makes it easy to dance and shake legs" says Candelaria Amaranto, a Salsa teacher from Spain after watching 'kudiyaattam' .

The 'Lungi Wearing Mallu Union' [LUWMU, pronounced LOVE MU], an NGO which works towards the 'upliftment' of the lungi, strongly disapproves of the GenNext tendency of wearing Bermuda shorts under the lungi. Bermudas under the lungi is a conspiracy by the CIA. It's a disgrace to see a person wearing Bermudas with corporate logos under his lungi. What they don't know is how much these corporates are limiting their freedom of movement and expression.

A mallu wears his lungi round the year. It's all weather, all season versatility has no match. A mallu celebrates winter by wearing a colourful lungi with a floral pattern. Yet in summer, a lungi provides good ventilation and brings down the heat between the legs. A mallu is scared of global warming more than anyone else in the world. If despite wearing a lungi you feel the heat, you can use the ends of the lungi to fan your heated parts.

Jai Lungi

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Confirmation from a friend from Kerala:

Of course, there is nothing more liberating than a lungi. It is truly a free flowing garment and colourful too. But the modern gen is not very impressed. My kids have banned lungis in our house – probably they are in cahoots with the Bermuda manufacturers. So I have to go around wearing shorts – like an overgrown school boy :-)

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An objection from West Bengal:

How come the lungi is considered something only Mallus wear? As far as I know lungis are favoured casual wear in (at least) West Bengal, Orissa, Bihar, and even in Punjab, where it is worn slightly hitched on one side - as anyone who has watched Bhangra dancers will have noticed.

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And a protest from a true Tamilian:

I am deeply offended that no one has pointed out the fact that Lungi's history is incomplete without acknowledging the contribution of the Lungi Clad Tamil Desi [LCTD] to this great tradition. Who can forget the ishhtyle of the quintessential LCTD traveling in a bus, his mundu folded and worn high about mid-thigh level, and upon being asked by the conductor to pay the fare, accede to the request by standing tall, with one arm holding on to the rail (primarily to quell newtonian forces because the driver always 'full take a fast' on hearing the biggle [whistle]) reaching deep into the pocket of a long multicoloured Nijar [shorts] allowing the lungi to ride even higher.

Ofcourse I concede that accidents happen sometimes, when the LCTD executes the manouevre only to discover that the long shorts are missing causing the conductor to use the aforementioned biggle again-this time to admonish the LCTD to drop the Lungi immediately forthwith ["Lungi erukku pa- bus iley ladies irukkanga"] and let him get off the bus [" Kasu illaiya? nataraja nata!"]

the dalli manual mines

2011-06-14T22:27:00.009+05:30

this mountain has been mined for 53 years now, and we are told the iron ore will last for another two years or so. then they will abandon this mine, fill up the hole, and plant trees on it. "leaving mother earth as we found it" is how the assistant mines manager explains it to us.

we are standing on a hill overlooking the dalli manual mines which is a sight to make you pause and catch your breath. the open strip mines here are enormous, leading far down into the hole, where dumper trucks look like miniature lego toys. and small white square structures with a conical top that i mistake for temples (why so many in one area i wondered) turn out to be blaster shelters. the person laying the charge to the dynamite that will blast the rock from the mountainside sits inside this to protect himself before he lights the fuse. each layer is called a bench and is 5 metres high - the limit of the sweep of the excavator. the ledge is as wide if not wider. these mines are completely mechanised now but are still called by their original name of manual mines.

strips of white among the prevailing rust red are where there is no iron ore, and this has now to be removed to get to the ore under it. the iron content here is over 60%, and the mines produce 1.2 million tons of iron ore a year. a sign tells us that on 31st may this year, the mines have achieved 929 accident-free days.

i cannot help wondering how much earth it will take to fill a hole this size, and where it will come from - will it not leave another area somewhere devoid of its topsoil, or make another hole?

mines, and sparrows

2011-05-16T16:58:00.005+05:30

the view from my room with the profusion of trees on the campus. the hill where the mines are is seen only dimly in the hot afternoon haze. a part of the hospital building is seen to the left.

i have been here for nearly a week now, and the sound of the blasting on the hills around dalli still startles me. sometimes i see a cloud of dust rising from a far-off hillside, but at other times i cannot make out where the earth is being blasted to lay bare its treasure of ore. the rajhara mines are strip mines: the ore is mined from the surface of the earth, in contrast to the typical mental image one has of mines, which has a pit going deep into the earth in a mine shaft and then horizontal tunnels under the earth.

the shaheed hospital sits on a hillside just outside the town of dalli rajhara, and across the valley is a huge rust-red hill, which has numerous parallel lines on it which i realise is the winding dirt road on which trucks ply all day long. i hope to be able to visit the mines sometime.

the hospital is a 100 bedded one, constructed and managed by mines workers who felt the need to have something of their own, where they would be treated with dignity, and where they could get affordable health care. it is always full to capacity and overflowing, with patients on the floor and in the corridors as well. at present it has seven doctors including dr saibal jana who has been here for the past 25 years. his wife alpana jana is a nurse, who has helped to train the 26 local girls who work in the hospital and provide nursing care, as well as handle most of the deliveries in the labour room.the patients' relatives cook in a long hall fitted with 21 sets of smokeless chulhas; and a separate room provided with LPG gas stoves for those who can pay the required amount of Rs. 20 per hour to cook a meal.

the campus has a variety of trees - amaltas, neem, mango, drumstick, bel, karanj, palash, banyan, and others in addition to the bougainvillea and hibiscus that grow in profusion everywhere. what amazes me is the number of sparrows here, including the couple that has persisted in building its nest in my room in spite of my efforts to shoo them away. in the process they litter my room with several handfuls of grass, small feathers, string and other ingredients essential to the building of their home. i love the sound they make. not since my days in bokaro in the 70s have i seen so many sparrows. lately i have neither seen nor heard them at all: i dont recall any in bhopal, and my part of the town in bilaspur has few birds, and certainly no sparrows. the blasts on the hillsides seem to bother them not at all.

the sisters with the sisters

2011-04-21T21:33:00.009+05:30

i was in karangabahla earlier this week. priti and muskaan look happy to be there. here they are in their school uniform, with the holy family nuns. they are outside a toilet complex that is being constructed with financial help from friends and well-wishers.

the end of the line

2011-04-14T16:39:00.008+05:30

if you board the 08788 passenger train at raipur, it will take you slowly, over three and a half hours, to dalli rajhara - a distance of 126 km. the train meanders past durg through the dry hot countryside, never stopping long at any one place, but not leaving out any station either. risama, gundardehi, balod, kusumkasa - these are stations i have not glimpsed before.

at bhilai a large group of young men gets on with equipment which they stack carefully at one end of the coach. they wear sky-blue T-shirts with "Bhilai Giants" embroidered on the pocket. with easy camaraderie, they share cucumbers, bottles of water, and their earphones to listen to songs on their mobiles. they are headed to dalli for a series of cricket matches this week.

i sit up straight, not wanting my kurta to stick to my back in the sweltering heat. twice i get down to fill my water bottle at the station - lukewarm water from a tap on the platform, but it tastes good. my eyes and throat dry up every so often, and i can feel grit on my face. the glare of the sun hurts my eyes, and i squint down at the book i am reading, though i would prefer to look out of the window.

we pass once an area that has many railway wagons piled high with iron ore. there are low hills beyond, and we have passed the station before i could see what it was. as we pass through this place, the wind blows in reddish dust, instead of the usual grey dust during the rest of the journey.

at 1 pm on a hot april afternoon, we pull into dalli rajhara, after passing through miles of hills of iron ore, that are being mined to feed the steel plant at bhilai. dalli is too small to be marked on most maps. this is the end of the railway line on this route.

contributions

2011-01-25T15:25:00.001+05:30

for those who wish to contribute to the hostel at karangabahla run by the holy family sisters, i now have the bank details. they have a society to which you can directly send money: would be best to deposit in any bank of baroda branch in your city - in which case your cheque will be a local cheque and collection charges are waived. also transfer is within 48 hours. mailing the cheque to them will entail collection charges and a long lag period for enchashment.

Shantidhara Society
Bank of Baroda,
Pathalgaon,
Account no. 30220100001594

you can either call up sr chaitanya (095894 43304) or email me about the amount and the date sent and i will inform her so that she can keep track.

thank you for your generosity.

hostel at karangabahla

2011-01-18T23:05:00.003+05:30

sr chaitanya of the holy family convent, karangabahla tells me that priti and muskaan are settling in well. their father called and spoke to them yesterday.

several people had called/ written in asking how they could help the two girls. i have told them that in addition to priti and muskaan, there are other girls staying at the hostel who may need support too. i had written to sr chaitanya asking whether they needed any funds for the hostel facilities, since i had noticed it was sparsely furnished. also anything for the boarders.

she discussed it in her community and they are surprised and touched that people they do not know are wanting to help them. they did have a list but were very hesitant to ask since they feel it is a lot of money, though it is actually quite modest.

if anyone is interested to contribute / know more, please do write to me.

one week on

2011-01-16T23:23:00.001+05:30

priti and muskaan have been at the hostel for a week now. when i spoke to them earlier this evening, both were in high spirits, said they were going to school but today was a holiday. the younger child interrupted her conversation with me to say she could not talk further as she had to go and play with her friends.

their father had called them two days ago, but they were in bed at that time but he spoke to the nun in charge of the convent.

priti and muskaan

2011-01-10T09:41:00.003+05:30

here they are. priti and muskaan at the ganiyari campus last week.

karangabahla

2011-01-09T10:27:00.003+05:30

yesterday we took priti and muskaan to the karangabahla holy family convent and admitted them there. it has been recently started, and has 23 boarders so far, ranging from 5 to 14 years of age. the place is 10 km beyond pathalgaon, in jashpur district, and is set off the road in large grounds. you reach it after a long drive though dense forest, and there is an air of peace there.

the girls took the community by surprise, chattering and giving their opinion on things, and exploring the place, in contrast to the shy tribal children who are presently there.
dev kumar returns to bombay today. on the drive to the station at raigarh and on the train ride back he was silent and pensive, often trying to fight back his tears.

the sister in charge called us after we got home at 11 pm last night, to tell us that the children were fine, played with the other girls and had dinner and went to sleep, and did not cry for their father. that is reassuring.

for all of you who through phone calls, emails or the blog extended their support - a big thank you. i will let you know once we figure out how exactly to provide support to this family. dev kumar will be sending a thousand rupees each month for the children's fees. there will be other costs like clothes and books, and travel to and from their village during holidays. he will probably make the trip to chhattisgarh twice or thrice this year instead of only once, so there will be additional travel costs. and perhaps others that we have not thought of as yet.

at ganiyari

2011-01-06T09:15:00.004+05:30

i have been in touch with dev kumar over the phone every day since their return to chhattisgarh.

after shunting around between various relatives, none of whom could, with ease, feed three people for more than two days, he and his daughters are now at the dharamshala on the JSS hospital campus at ganiyari. here they will stay and get food in the canteen till the girls are placed in a hostel.

meanwhile, the number of people who have written in or called offering monetary support, and two even offering to be foster parents to the children - has been very reassuring. two nuns have been actively looking for hostels in northern chhattisgarh, closer to their native district of janjgir-champa. a hostel in karangabahla near pathalgaon (in the neighbouring district of raigarh) looks promising. run by the holy family sisters, the fee per child is rs. 500 per month or rs 100 per month with 20 kg rice and 2 kg daal per month. the fee is similar in other hostels in this region. the children need to be taken home during the holidays.

i have just spoken to dev kumar, and his mother is willing to collect them during the holidays till he comes home. he is absolutely set on returning to work in bombay (the city of dreams?) and not in chhattisgarh.

i hope to go with them later this week to karangabahla. meanwhile, if a hostel is found in janjgir-champa district itself, that will be easier for the family.

still on the move

2010-12-27T22:12:00.004+05:30

dev kumar called from chhattisgarh monday morning to say they had reached safely.

then again last afternoon: the relative they were staying with had said he could not feed three extra persons for long, so they have to leave.
the two little girls and their father are on the move again, this time to his mother's village.

i await his next phone call. brings home to me the urgency of finding a place for the girls to stay so that their father can work without worry.

if any of you know of a hostel in chhattisgarh for girls of this age, where they be looked after and can get an education, let me know.
please.

keeping priti and muskaan safe

2010-12-25T23:42:00.006+05:30

priti, 9 and her sister muskaan, 6, live with their father in bombay. their mother left the family three years ago. their father dev kumar khare from akaltara in chhattisgarh works as a security guard. priti used to go to school till the highway intervened between her slum and the school : she is now unable to cross the road over which trucks and cars race by. end of her schooling.

dev kumar is worried about keeping his daughters safe. he lives in a shed with 15 other security guards and he works the night shift, which means his daughters are by themselves. twice his older daughter was molested, twice he has been to the local police station to register a complaint, twice he was turned away without a complaint being registered. he has moved jobs four times in the past year.

he approached an orphanage about keeping his daughters there, but was told he would have to sign a form giving them up, so he refused. he did not know what else to do. a "madam" had approached him a month ago offering him money for his daughters.

he has a brother who works in a brick kiln in gujarat, and his mother is a daily wage labourer in chhattisgarh. both refused to take responsibility of two young girls.

i was horrified listening to his story. they were obviously destitute, and i wondered at his desperation and that of his family that scattered them throughout the country. they were traveling on the same train that i was coming by to bombay on tuesday. i gave him my phone number and asked him to contact me the next day after i had time to make enquiries about shelters for young children. he was not aware of such a facility.

sneha sadan has been working in bombay for the past 40 years, open to destitute children, and when contacted they immediately agreed to take in the girls. however, as per the government order in force for the past two years, any such child sheltered by any NGO has to have a court order committing the child to the institution. failure to do so can lead to the NGO losing its license.

the court sits three days a week, and devkumar, priti and muskaan stayed at sneha sadan on thursday night. on friday we took them to the children's court which operates from 2 to 5 pm. the officer in charge turned up at 4.15 pm, and we got our turn to present our case around 5 in the evening. the children by now were tired, hungry and restless.

she heard us out, then called in the father and scolded him for shirking his responsibility by wanting to leave the children for the state to bring up. when he told her about trying to lodge a police complaint, she said it was his fault he did not go back again and again till it was lodged.

the final conclusion was that since the place where he worked is outside the limits of her jurisdiction, we would have to apply to the child welfare officer of another circle. first a missing person complaint with the police there, who will wait 2 months to confirm that the mother actually is missing; then the children will be allotted to a home. meanwhile if we fear for their safety, they can be taken into police custody till a home is allotted. besides, we cannot choose which shelter we may want the girls to be in: that will be allotted by the court, and is usually a government run home. the girls will be enrolled in school, we were told, and even if the father moves back to chhattisgarh he cannot take his girls back as they will be studying here in marathi, and education is important!

all this was extremely discouraging and the process for finding a safe shelter for the girls seemed a long and daunting process, if not impossible.

we discussed alternatives with dev kumar last evening after returning from the children's court: wait till monday and try again in this court if there is another more sympathetic officer on duty, or try with the next circle officer, or elsewhere.

dev kumar opted to take the children back to chhattisgarh and try to get them into a hostel among the few that are run by NGOs (there are many ashram schools there which are residential schools, run both by government and NGOs). he will then come back to work in bombay, and visit them when he can. his relatives can keep in more regular contact with his daughters as well. he left yesterday morning, and called me today from his village.

we are now trying to contact various organizations we know in chhattisgarh to ask if they can take two little girls into their hostel where they can be safe, can study, and can be children once again.

security

2010-10-23T21:15:00.002+05:30

siblings at a day-care centre in rural Bilaspur district, Chhattisgarh.

six weeks

2010-09-27T07:20:00.007+05:30

six weeks today after the surgery, and i am almost back to "normal". my left arm has regained much of its power. my voice is now much stronger too, though not completely back to normal. the numbness in my fingers and arm persists, but that will take time, i am told. the physiotherapy continues.

it is amazing how the human body can heal itself.

my family has been with me through all this, taking care of me through the pain, the surgery and after. i am fortunate to have them around me. it is lucky we don't keep score within a family, for their love and care is a debt i cannot repay.

many of my friends - from school, college and later - called, visited, sent SMS and email. they lifted my spirits and reminded me again how lucky i am to have them in my life.

as for the team at CMC, vellore : the neurosurgeons, the anaesthetists, the nurses, the physiotherapists - all of who contributed to making me pain-free again, and started me on the path to healing - they have my eternal gratitude.

pause

2010-09-09T07:51:00.003+05:30

so what happens when the brakes are suddenly applied on a life apparently going full steam ahead? i guess one pauses and takes stock. that is what i am doing now.

six weeks ago i suddenly developed excruciating pain in my left arm with numbness, discovered i had a prolapsed cervical disc, and needed surgery. after three weeks of 'wait and see' that is the normal practice (many such pains resolve themselves with rest and pain killers), i was operated on at vellore last month, just over three weeks ago.
the pain is gone, and i am eternally grateful for that. my left arm is weak with numbness persisting, and i go for physiotherapy daily, and i am glad to say that the strength in my arm is returning gradually.
one of the complications of neck surgery is nerve damage - a small percentage, but i was one of them. now one of my vocal cords is paralysed. my speech is soft - i cannot talk loudly, my voice sounds different, i have difficulty in coughing. after talking for a short while the volume becomes much lower and i have difficulty making myself understood. i am also undergoing speech therapy, and my voice is stronger than before, but i am told it will take months to really improve.

so it is off bad and bumpy roads for me for some months at least, which rules out field visits for now. my other work - that of training - has also to be put on hold for some time, and when i do resume, it has to be with a microphone always.

why did the disc prolapse happen? no one knows for sure why some people get it. twenty years of traveling on bad roads or no roads may have contributed, said my surgeon.

time to take stock.

an antenatal clinic

2010-05-17T19:15:00.005+05:30

the monthly antenatal clinic at semariya is always a busy one.

today it is light due to the large number of weddings taking place, with 58 women attending. tiharin bai, the health worker at karhikachar calls up to say there are 12 women waiting there: the bus has not come today as it has been leased out to a wedding party. we send our jeep to fetch them.

it is baking hot in the clinic, well over the 46 deg C that bilaspur and its environs has been maintaining the past few days. it is painful putting the hot earpieces of the stethoscope into my ears each time to examine a woman, and i keep drinking gulps of warm water to fight the heat and thirst.

but that is a minor discomfort. most of the women who attend the clinic today have not gained any weight in the past month, and some have lost weight. all of them have been working in this hot sun under the NREGS. i tell them they need to rest, and not do hard physical labour. they need the money, they say, and cannot remain at home.

the NREGS can guarantee employment, but not their health.

difficult choices.

hydrilla and frog

2010-05-15T10:32:00.003+05:30

a young medical student who spent ten days at our campus in Ganiyari earlier this month took some beautiful photographs.

this one of a resident frog keeping cool in one of the ponds on campus, is my favourite.

may

2010-05-05T16:48:00.008+05:30

a sudden dust storm and drizzle has brought welcome relief from the searing heat here at bamhni in the achanakmar sanctuary. it also covered everything in the clinic with dust, and brought a man who had a split scalp when the branch of a tree fell on his head. and another man with a split scalp whose drunken father beat him unconscious with a bamboo pole when he challenged his drinking. fearing his son was dead, the man ran off into the forest and is missing as of now.

i am here again for the monthly health workers' meeting. it is past 8 at night and we are working by the dim light of two solar powered lamps: the battery is running down, since i have used up much of it for the lamp in the clinic to stitch up the scalps of the two men.

the health workers say they have seen few patients this month as they were also busy working in the NREGS programme. munni suddenly protests: "i go everyday for the work, but my name is not put on the muster rolls since i am a widow. i am told that i get a widow's pension of rs 200 a month, so i am not eligible for work under this scheme. can anyone survive on this money? the sarpanch has told me that these are the instructions of the lady officer who came for a public meeting last week. all the widows in all the villages in this area are now being told they cannot work in this scheme. i still go everyday and fight to work".

another says,"my parents are over 60 and fit and are willing to work, but they are also now being told that since they are eligible for old age pension of rs 300 pm, they will not be given work under the rozgaar guarantee programme." why cant they get work?"

"younger women abandoned by their husbands who get a pension of rs.200 too are not eligible."

"why dont they hold back the pension for the three months that the rozgar guarantee work is going on? then we can work and earn more."

several of them sign a petition to the CEO of the block, asking to be allowed to work (that is the letter that is scanned and posted at the start of this note).

the talk veers to payment received: some have received no payment for seven months of work - two months this year, five months of last year. many have received cheques, but the post-office in surhi shuts its counters when many of them go together to deposit and withdraw the money as it is too much work. some are waiting to deposit their cheques for over a month: "the postmaster even refused to come from his house to the post-office when he saw us."
they dont have much choice, as there are designated days for each village in the panchayat to collect their money from the post-office.
in bamhni there is a rozgaar sahayak who goes to surhi and deposits their cheques and collects their money, apparently so far not asking for a cut. other villages don't seem to have this person in place.

how much do they get? "we were told it was rs. 102 per person per day, but we get only rs 100 per day, a cheque of rs.1200 for two weeks of work. so where are the rs 24 going?" i dont know what the current rate is, and i cannot answer.

i also have no answers for abandoned women, widows and older citizens not being allowed to work. i have to find out. anyone knows anything about this?

rabies then, rabies now.

2010-03-22T21:43:00.004+05:30

this was written for rediff about a patient i saw in 1992, nearly 20 years ago. nothing much has changed, it seems, apart from the fact that sarguja district is now in Chhattisgarh instead of in Madhya Pradesh.
----------------------

Bitten By Dog, Bitten By Man

One evening in March, Somaru was brought to the dispensary in Bhainswar, in the western part of Surguja district in Madhya Pradesh. As was usual among the Gonds in this area of MP, Somaru had married early and at 17 was the father of a six-month-old baby. A gentle, well-built lad, he had been learning irrigation techniques from Father Alex who lived opposite the dispensary.

Now, he was quite unrecognisable: a wide-eyed, desperate boy, babbling incoherently, clutching at Father Alex's arm and asking repeatedly for water to quench his thirst.

Five months ago, on Diwali night, Somaru was bitten by a dog on his right ankle. The wound took weeks to heal. As the dog had been stoned to death immediately, there was no way of telling whether or not it was rabid. Somaru paid no heed to our pleas to get vaccinated against rabies at the Primary Health Centre in Sonhat. We worried too much, he said. Besides, he did not want to cycle 13 km through the forest to the PHC for any injections.

As the wound healed, Somaru resumed work, tending his field. Exciting things were happening in Bhainswar. For the first time, the villagers were growing a winter crop of wheat, thanks to the irrigation system they had devised which lifted water from the river that flowed past the village. Somaru had no time to worry about his ankle.

All of a sudden, he had begun to feel feverish and could not swallow water.

The evening wore on. I watched over him in the fading light with a feeling of helplessness. I knew Somaru had contracted rabies. He was, quite literally, beyond help. Nothing anyone could do would save him.

Somaru talked incessantly, begging Father Alex to save him, crying out in fear that he did not want to die. Again and again he asked for water and when we did give him some, he spat it out and turned violent.

Father Alex and I explained to Somaru's relatives that he had a serious disease and would probably die within a few days. We advised them to take him home and keep him quiet, warning them that he could turn violent. They could not accept this. How could a five-month-old dog bite cause this madness? Besides, the wound had healed completely, and he had been perfectly well till just two days ago. "He is possessed by spirits," they said.

While two of the younger men borrowed the dispensary jeep and drove 80 km into the jungles to fetch a vaid (traditional healer), Somaru's family carried him home and kept an all night vigil, chanting and praying while he tossed in his tragic delirium. By morning, Somaru's in-laws and other relatives from the surrounding villages had arrived and joined in the prayers. Then the vaid came in, took one look at poor Somaru and declared that this was not a devil he could exorcise.

Somaru died late that evening, 24 hours after he had been brought to the dispensary, in an agony of fear and thirst. When we heard the news, a wave of relief washed over me. No one should ever die such a death, and at least it was over for Somaru.

Just then, his uncle and father rushed into the dispensary, fear writ large on their faces. Somaru was very violent just before he died and when they tried to restrain him, he had bitten them both. His father and uncle, I realised, were also possibly infected.

Father Alex and I went to Sonhat to get the rabies vaccine from the PHC and bring it to Bhainswar where the nurse could administer it to the two men. This would save them from having to find a place to stay in Sonhat until they completed the course of vaccination. The vaccine available in the market cost nearly Rs 300 a dose, and the villagers could not afford that. Only the subsidised vaccine from the PHC was within their reach.

There was no vaccine available at the Sonhat PHC, so we drove a further 40 km to Baikunthpur, a large mining town. Here we were informed that the only anti-rabies serum available was at the district headquarters, Ambikapur.

Three hours and 120 km later, we were at Ambikapur. There, the district hospital authorities told us that they had no vaccine and it had to be obtained from Indore, nearly 750 km away!

In despair, we went to see the collector. Not that he could do anything, but we wanted to tell him what had happened. He was extremely sympathetic, got in touch with the hospital authorities and asked them to send someone to Indore right away to get the vaccine. He also told them to hand it over to Father Alex for transportation to Bhainswar. If the vaccine did not arrive in a few days, he told us, he would sanction funds to buy it in the market.

Over the next ten days, Father Alex returned three times to Ambikapur, to the district hospital. Each time, there was no vaccine. Finally, he went back to the collector only to find that he had been transferred out of the district. Eventually, we spent nearly Rs 1,800 each on Somaru's father and uncle for a full course of the rabies vaccine. I am happy and relieved to report that both are well.

Some weeks later, Father Alex happened to be at the Sonhat PHC and found it stocked with the rabies vaccine, supplied from the district headquarters.

"It is always available at Ambikapur," he was told. "But how did you hope to get it without bribing someone at the hospital?"

distress migration

2010-03-21T08:21:00.003+05:30

Two of the emergencies seen by us yesterday highlight the tragic plight of migrants - the nowhere people in our country. These are not from across the international border, though they do cross various borders in search of a living and for survival : the border between their village and the city; the one between states; the one between cultures; the one between the familiarity of one's own home and the unsure, unstable one of a new and unknown place, among new and unknown people; the nebulous line between being very vulnerable and being extremely so.

The first was an 8 year old boy brought by his parents with a history of a dog bite on his elbow eleven days ago. The parents had moved from Shahdol in MP to Kota in Bilaspur district of Chhattisgarh, to work in a brick kiln there. The contractor assured them nothing would happen, they could use some local herbs to treat the wound, which they did. They, of course, were not aware of the dangers of a dog bite and the need for anti-rabies vaccine. Now, eleven days later he reached our clinic, with frank rabies. There was nothing we could do, except explain the disease and the prognosis to the parents and urge them to keep him comfortable for the few days he has left before he dies. This for a young child who is bright and alert and in full possession of his faculties. The parents left our clinic at Ganiyari, weeping and trying to comprehend what had happened.

The second was a patient seen at one of the outreach clinics at Semariya. I was at the clinic and a man rushed in with his wife in his arms - she must not weigh more than 25 kgs. They are from that village and had migrated to Kanpur in Uttar Pradesh to work in a brick kiln. She fell ill 10 days ago, and when he ran out of money giving her IV drips there and she did not improve, they came home. She had not been eating now for four days. She was in shock with cold hands and feet and a barely recordable BP. She had severe pneumonia and sepsis and was gasping for air. After resuscitating her and starting antibiotics for the pneumonia, I sent her to Ganiyari for admission - she is there on oxygen and under further investigation and treatment. She probably also has TB as well as sickle cell disease, apart from being severely malnourished.

Two families of migrants, two families with severe illnesses, two families whose health is no one's responsibility.

monkey business

2010-03-17T22:02:00.002+05:30

from "Banian Tree, the Pride of Hindostan" by James Forbes

(James Forbes was an officer in the East India Company in Bombay, and was Collector of Dabhoi (near Baroda) )

"The Banian or Burr tree (Ficus bengalensis) is deserving of our attention: from being of the most curious and beautiful of nature's productions in that genial climate where she sports with the greatest profusion and variety. .....
....on the banks of the Nerbudda I have spent many delightful days with large parties, on rural excursions, under a tree supposed by some persons to be that described by Nearchus, and certainly not at all inferior to it.
...
On a shooting party under this tree, one of my friends killed a female monkey, and carried it to his tent; which was soon surrounded by forty of fifty of the tribe, who made a great noise, and in a menacing posture advanced towards it: on presenting his fowling-piece, they retreated and appeared irresolute, but one, which from his age and station in the van, seemed the head of the troop, stood his ground, chattering and menacing in a furious manner; nor could any efforts less cruel than firing drive him off: he at length approached the tent door; and when finding his threatenings were of no avail, he began a lamentable moaning, and by every token of grief and supplication, seemed to beg the body of the deceased: on this, it was given to him: with tender sorrow he took it up in his arms, embraced it with conjugal affection, and carried it off with a sort of triumph to his expecting comrades.

The artless behaviour of this poor animal wrought so powerfully on the sportsmen that they resolved never more to level a gun at one of the monkey race."

a tiger reserve in the making

2010-02-20T19:51:00.004+05:30

the approach road from sivalkhar to sarasdol within the sanctuary has been cut across with a deep trench so that vehicles can no longer traverse it. a roundabout route through achanakmaar still did not allow access - we suddenly need a special pass from the forest officer in the block headquarters. a village we have been visiting for the past six years to support health workers providing primary health care services is now difficult to access. equally so for the villagers to reach the outside world in a case of an emergency.

meanwhile in bamhni village, six axes were confiscated this week. it is no longer allowed to cut any branches of any trees, or cut trees themselves. though the resettlement is a couple of years away at least, life is becoming difficult for people here. firewood may be gathered from what has fallen on the forest floor, but no dead logs can be split, nor can one collect wood to repair a beam of a house, or to build a hut.

returning from the shivterai clinic this afternoon, i see a forest department jeep in front of us with six confiscated pieces of slender wood, already worked on caringly to form what may become beams.

as we overtake that jeep, we are stuck behind a large truck, carrying huge logs of wood, perhaps eighty or more in that overloaded truck - tree trunks that must be at least fifty years old. each log is marked by chalk indicating the date it was logged, and its length. some more markings that i cannot understand. sold by the forest department to i am not sure who. this, of course, will not destroy the forest. what the forest dwellers need to keep alive, will.

Teejmati and baby

2010-02-08T21:28:00.006+05:30

Teejmati Baiga, from Shantipur village. Displaced twice from her forest village, once for a dam, then again. Now to be displaced for a third time, she is not sure where, to make way for the Achanakmaar tiger reserve.

harvest

2010-02-06T10:08:00.006+05:30

corn hanging from the roof of a hut in boiraha village, inside the achanakmaar sanctuary.

this village may not be around in a year from now, as it has been notified to be moved as now this whole area is to be a tiger reserve.

a typical clinic

2010-02-05T22:29:00.003+05:30

dr sitaram, this one is for you.
on wednesday, 3rd february, i was one of eight doctors in the outpatient clinic of JSS at ganiyari. cases are screened and sent to concerned specialists, so i did not get most of the ob/gyn or paediatric, or surgical cases. the following patients are who i saw as a "general" physician:
a. a 35 year old woman with hive-like lesions on her face and legs for three months, with no itching but with jhunjhuni or tingling. a slit skin smear showed 3+ AFB: a case of lepromatous leprosy.
b. the second patient was a young 28 year old woman with swelling of the body for three days, a blood pressure of 210/130, heart rate of 120, a pansystolic murmur at the apex; urine albumin 4+, and a serum creatinine of 6.8. she is on a nitroglycerine drip to bring down her blood pressure, and we need to rule out a connective tissue disorder. USG showed normal sized kidneys.
c. a diabetic hypertensive alcoholic who had discontinued all medication on his own and came with bilateral cataracts. he came because his eyesight was too poor now for him to continue tailoring.
d. a 65 year old woman with blood and mucus per rectum for three months: she had carcinoma of the lower part of the rectum, which would need resection and a colostomy. she refused even a biopsy to confirm the diagnosis, and went home.
e. a 45 year old woman with ankylosing spondylitis.
f. a 40 year old man with a three month history of upper abdominal discomfort and severe weight loss. suspected carcinoma of the stomach, referred for endoscopy and biopsy
g. a 23 year old woman with an intra-uterine death and spontaneous abortion at 7 months, with retained POC, bleeding, and post-partum depression. Hb 5.3 gm%, and refused a curettage to stop the bleeding.
h.a baiga tribal woman who i had brought back from the field clinic inside the sanctuary the previous day with a history of a fall from the "machaan" (raised wooden structure built in teh field to safeguard the crops against wild animals at night). she had a fractured acetabulum with internal dislocation of the head of the femur. she is on traction now at ganiyari
g. five patients newly diagnosed as hypertensive
h. one 25 year old boy with a liver abscess.
i. about 10 non-serious patients.

all this in one clinic in a rural area in Chhattisgarh, seen by one physician. my other colleagues saw an equal number of seriously ill patients through the day, including several emergencies. there were about 240 consultations that day. this goes on three days a week, through the year. we get patients from all over bilaspur district, and from other districts too; also from neighbouring madhya pradesh.
these are poor patients, over half of them have BMIs less than 18.5. most are backward castes, or scheduled tribes and scheduled caste patients.
the clinic is a virtual gold-mine for those who want to learn medicine, and a sure indicator of the sorry state of our public health system - we have a medical college, and the district hospital within 25 km from our clinic. and two block PHCs within a radius of 20 km from ganiyari.
it speaks volumes too, about the burden of disease in the community.
would anyone like to come and help out for any length of time? we would really appreciate it. two weeks at least would be preferable, but even one week would help if you cant spare more time. you could plan it anytime during this year, so please do give it a thought.
(the picture shows patients waiting outside the laboratory for their reports. they will then be seen by the doctor for further management, no matter how late in the day)
for more information, please contact janswasthya@gmail.com, or myself at atkuri@gmail.com

pertussis

2010-01-21T06:44:00.004+05:30

shukrawar singh was brought by his mother to the clinic at semariya last saturday with cough, vomiting and "red eyes" for five days. he is four years old, and from aurapani village.
what he has is a common (though poorly recognised) complication of whooping cough (pertussis) - one coughs so violently that the small blood vessels in the eye under the conjunctiva burst. it is usually harmless and the blood is resorbed in a few days if the cough can be controlled. what is indicates is the severity of the cough.
these children may also have pneumonia (which shukrawar did), and all of them most certainly will slip into worse malnutrition than they started with: the intense and prolonged coughing spells tire them out and also prevent them from eating.
he was given antibiotics for the pneumonia, and codeine to suppress the cough. the cough can last for several weeks.

needless to say, no government ANM has ever visited his village to immunize children.
he had received polio drops, however.

a tiger reserve

2009-12-17T06:17:00.004+05:30

the achanakmaar sanctuary is now to be a tiger reserve under project tiger. this means about 28 villages currently in the sanctuary (and who have been there for several generations) have to move. they will be relocated outside the sanctuary. work on this has already begun: several acres of what is called "degraded forest" is being cleared to provide land for resettlement. villagers have been told that if they don't move now, there will be no land for them later. two villages have already moved: only to find that they have to live under a plastic sheet in this cold weather.

a team from calcutta is busy conducting an anthropological survey of the villages - including an anthropometric survey of children below five. apparently to see what happens to their nutritional status once they are resettled. does it matter? can a severely malnourished child get more malnourished? and what will happen if the child does worsen? - the government will think of some scheme for them, was the answer.

there has been no notice given in writing. nothing to say where each village will be settled, what facilities they will get, what compensation, nothing. it has so far only been by word of mouth, and petty officials scaring the people in the forest. many have not received their pattas under the new forest bill yet, so will not be eligible for much compensation in a court of law.

communities inside the forest are mixed: tribals and non-tribals. however, they have been told the rehabilitation package is only for the tribals and not for others. where will the others go? the yadavs, for example, who tend to the cattle?

an RTI application was filed by one of the villagers last week, asking for information about the proposed displacement. last weekend there was also a meeting of people from 18 villages in the forest, resolving not to move till they were given something in writing; till they were assured of a decent life elsewhere. we have lived in harmony with the forest, they say, we should be left here. a fledgling group is born, trying to take tentative steps to stand up against "authority" as represented by the forest department and other government officials. and the innate diffidence has to be overcome.

two days after the meeting, the sanctuary in charge visited the village in the evening: well after dark, to meet the person who had filed the RTI application. he asked why it had been filed, why a meeting was held the previous weekend, what the applicant wanted. assurances were given that all attempts would be made to ensure that written information would be given. but the village and the person who filed the application are a bit intimidated: they have not been visited by an official before for any reason.

the communities here are a very worried lot. what will happen to us, they ask? where will our cattle graze, where will we find grass to make our brooms, where will our children go to school?

many unanswered questions.

the indian bison

2009-12-13T23:10:00.004+05:30

here he is - Bos frontalis, the indian bison, or gaur. males weigh from 750 to 1000 kgs and grow upto 2 metres tall. adult males and females appear to wear white stockings. older males have a ridge on the back. they are often seen in herds.

i would not want to be kicked around or gored by one.

injured

2009-12-13T21:52:00.007+05:30

my post of September 5th showed Phaguni Dai, a TBA, learning how to resuscitate a newborn baby at our forest clinic at bamhni inside the achanakmaar sanctuary. here she is this week, admitted at our base hospital at ganiyari.

last week she was chasing a monkey from her vegetable patch in the forest, when she disturbed a bison which then attacked, gored her and probably kicked her a bit. she fell, which was lucky for her, as the bison charged to gore her again but missed her and took the bark off a nearby tree. had she still been standing, she may not have lived.

she has a fractured wrist, a huge flesh wound in the abdomen, injuries to the chest, and a collection of blood in her right knee. she is in pain, but glad her injuries were not worse. being kicked and gored by an animal weighing several hundred kilos can kill easily.

the forest department will foot the bill for her treatment, as per the rules. we wish her a speedy recovery, and hope she will be back to delivering babies again soon.

penicillin

2009-12-05T21:36:00.001+05:30

penicillin is a life-saving drug for patients unfortunate enough to have rheumatic heart disease. a very common disease some decades ago all over the country, it is still prevalent in poor communities who have little access to health care. the heart valves are damaged and are more prone to getting infected. in order to prevent this, a three-weekly dose of long acting penicillin is given as an injection. this is a cheap and very effective method.
suddenly last week we realised that we were out of stock of benzathine penicillin (as the long acting penicillin is called), and could not get any in bilaspur town. nor in raipur.
as i happened to be travelling in hyderabad, i was asked to purchase 1000 vials from there if i could. my only concern was whether or not i could carry the weight back in my suitcase. i set out to the nearest drugstore and found that it was not available: it is not available in the market, i was told.
not quite believing him, i asked in another shop, and another, and another : with the same response. i looked up the directory and contacted two of the largest drug stores in the city - one said they had enough vials for me. i went there the next morning, only to find that they had no stocks - they thought i needed four or five vials.
i returned via nagpur yesterday and my cousin drove me around several large drug stores, with the same results: no benzathine penicillin is available in the market. one shop had seven vials, and refused to take an order with an advance since they could not assure me when the order could be met.
meanwhile our organization contacted LOCOST in baroda who located 500 vials in ahmedabad, which are being mailed to us.
i wonder if anyone else is facing the same shortage? what is happening to all the patients with rheumatic heart disease - of whom there must be several millions in india? why has this suddenly happened? why is this cheap and life-saving drug not available easily? any answers, anyone?
and if anyone can locate about 1000 vials of the medicine (brand names: longacillin, penidure LA12), please write in.

2009-11-15T08:29:00.003+05:30

this is from one of the creches in babutola village. the worker was holding three children: one had fallen asleep, the other two refused to climb down, especially when they saw us.

2009-11-11T21:47:00.005+05:30

this little girl, 18 months old, looked warily at us from the security of her swing in the "phulwari' or creche in daganiya village.

jan swasthya sahyog runs 77 such creches where 900 children 6 months to 3 years old are looked after during the day by one or more of the village women, while the parents are out at work. each woman looks after ten children. these creches are in great demand whenever NREGA work is available, and also now during the harvesting season. the children are provided food thrice during their 8 hour stay in the creche: khitchdi and sattu, with oil, as well as an egg twice a week. this is an attempt to prevent and treat malnutrition in this very vulnerable group of children. water is disinfected by U-V light, and iron supplements are also provided. each creche has one or more mosquito nets too for use when the children sleep. toys are also available. the village health worker takes care of any minor illnesses the children may have.

we are looking for funds to help us run these creches: food, and wages for the worker, as well as the logistics of supplies and supervision cost us about rs.10 per child per day. anyone willing to contribute is welcome. anyone wanting to know more may please write to us at janswasthya@gmail.com or ask me.

updates

2009-10-31T06:50:00.003+05:30

i had written in an earlier blog about kiran baiga who was anaemic and hypertensive and was awaiting her first baby. she had it during the rains, when she could not cross the rivers in the forest to reach the hospital. it was a low birth weight baby boy, who died of pneumonia when he was five days old. kiran is better, but i could not meet her yesterday when i went to her village - she had gone to collect firewood.

the boy in the tuesday clinic who we thought had a brain tumour turned out to have a degenerative brain disease. he will worsen progressively and not survive very long. there is not much that can be done for him.

the NREGS wages, i am sorry to say, have still not been paid. the villagers now have to open post office accounts into which the payment cheques will be deposited. apparently this is to circumvent the corruption in direct cash payment of the wages. but many of the men have already migrated so are not available to open their accounts. meanwhile people here continue to eat more poorly than before.

a sick clinic

2009-10-29T22:21:00.003+05:30

tuesday this week was another busy clinic at bamhni. i was supposed to be training the birth attendants this week, but did not get much time to sit with them. several patients sick with malaria were seen. then the vehicle was requested to bring a patient from surhi 6 km away: a man breathless with pneumonia, not getting enough oxygen into his system. i started him on antibiotics and oxygen and the saturation slowly crept up but not good enough. by evening he was worse, the left side of his chest completely dull, the breath bubbling in his chest. he probably had empyema (pus in his pleural cavity - the space around the lungs) and he was in heart failure.

meanwhile, more malaria patients later came a young woman who seemed at first to be hysterical, shying away from anyone touching her. but i found she had an acute abdomen - an emergency. the junior doctor who had accompanied me to bamhni was anxious about getting back and handling these emergencies himself, so i walked to the bend in the cc (cement concrete) road in the village - the only place where one can get a mobile network signal if the wind is right, and called raman, the surgeon at ganiyari to inform him about the patients i was sending back. he assured me that he would wait, however long it took.

back to the clinic, started antibiotics for the woman with the surgical emergency, and sent her and the patient with empyema to our base clinic, which is an hour and a half away by road from bamhni. i learnt yesterday that he was taken straight to the OT and had a litre and a half of pus removed from his pleural cavity. when i saw him last evening after returning from bamhni, he was much better. the woman had an appendicular abscess and had been operated on, and was smiling - no longer in pain, no longer seemingly hysterical. my colleague had been in the hospital till after 10 pm the previous night, attending to them.

meanwhile i kept behind at bamhni a 12 year old boy weighing 27 kg who i suspected had tuberculosis, and perhaps something more serious. also at the clinic that night was a pregnant woman with malaria and a child with malaria who was severely anaemic, both under observation to see that they did not worsen.

4 am yesterday morning i was woken up: a 10 year old girl from a hostel in jakadbandha was complaining of chest pain for a few hours. turned out it was another pneumonia. we started her on antibiotics, kept her at the centre, and sent the warden back to inform her parents who live in a remote village. i huddled back into my sleeping bag after seeing her but could not get back to sleep due to the cold. i could hear her brassy cough in the hall next door where she was sleeping.

both the children - the one with TB and the child with pneumonia were sent to ganiyari the next morning and are admitted there now. the patients with malaria were better and went home.

the dai training went on too, meanwhile.

2009-10-04T20:06:00.004+05:30

working and travelling in northern madhya pradesh was very educational, especially after 11 years in orissa. the feudal system, for example, is not so evident in orissa as here. caste plays a big role in everything in these districts of morena, tikamgarh, shivpuri and sheopur. in 2005 i remember a sub-collector at the collectorate in one of these districts, who was a dalit: he was given a separate pot and glass tumbler to drink water from. when we were going to investigate a measles outbreak, no one wanted to travel in his jeep. i heard later that after he was posted elsewhere, a "shuddhikaran' was done of his room. no doubt his pot and tumbler were broken.

i remember too, an ANM who would not touch lower caste women, not even to give the tetanus toxoid injections necessary in pregnancy. there was of course no question of measuring their blood pressure or of doing an abdominal examination.

a group of women who had a lease on several tanks in tikamgarh and ran a successful business in fish were unable to get their anganwadi functioning. they were reluctant to talk about it, but after some weeks opened up enough to confess that the anganwadi worker belonged to the thakur family in the village. since it had not rained the past two years, and the two handpumps in the village were dry, the only source of water for the group (lower caste women) was the thakur's pump that was put on each morning to water his fields. if we protest, even this source of water will be denied to us, they said. also, they would beat up our men, and maybe even kill them.

the anganwadi remained closed, the rations sold or consumed by someone else.

morena and bhind were different: the deep ravines and the stark landscape disquieting. in bhind, no upper caste man worth his name will go around without his rifle. it is a persuasive weapon for all purposes including once for insisting that i attend immediately to see a child who had been brought to me. i was in a school building setting up a temporary centre to manage an outbreak of cholera, and surrounded by many patients, but i left everything and went to attend to the child, who it turned out, was severely dehydrated.

the ravines provide a safe hideout for the various gangs of dacoits who roam freely between uttar pradesh and madhya pradesh. one notable one is the gadariya gang: he being known for his respect for women and for not touching them. one of the reasons, i am told, that he is tolerated in the area by the locals.

2009-09-30T06:29:00.003+05:30

here are the scanned pics with the durga puja article of yesterday. only you read them from below up.

Durga Puja

2009-09-28T20:29:00.001+05:30

my friend and colleague biswaroop sent me this mail this evening. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i did. happy vijay dashami, everyone.

Durga Puja

As far as Bongs (Bengalis) are concerned, there are only three kinds of people on earth:

Bongs: They inhabit the Middle Kingdom and are the only people who really matter. We probashi Bongs or expatriate Bongs are cousins thrice removed, acknowledged only when we make it good in Bollywood.

Non-Bongs: All other people who don’t matter. We cannot afford to say it in as many words, now that we have fallen on such hard times having to queue up for all the jobs before the non-Bongs).

and,

Hon-Bongs (a term coined by Jug Suraiya, an eminent journalist and humourist and an hon-bong himself) or honorary Bongs: They are a small breed of non-Bongs, who have lived in Bengal for a long time and love to eat rashogolla and mishti doi. They may or may not speak Bengali; that does not matter as long as they love (or profess to love) rashogolla and mishti doi. Spouses, domestic partners, or good friends of Bongs are also welcome to this privileged club as long as they love rashogolla and mishti doi. So much the better if the jamaai or bou-ma happens to be an Ivy League-academic or a Nigerian footballer). The others are not so welcome even if they love rashogolla and mishti doi.

One thing about Bongs that baffles non-Bongs is the mammoth enthusiasm about Durga Pujo that never translates into communal riots. Well, to begin with, the legend of Durga is such a bizarre, rich and heady mix of colourful mythology, high theology, and superb iconography (something like Jesus, the angels, Santa Claus, and the reindeers rolled into one) that it would be difficult for anyone to misappropriate it to suit narrow ends. Just imagine a Dravidian mother goddess elevated to the high table of the Aryan pantheon and showered with armaments by Aryan deities such as Agni and Brahma, just to make her kill a Dravidian asura in a masterly stroke of realpolitik. And think of the ultimate image makeover: the transformation of a fierce demon-slayer into a demure Bengali girl, who visits her parents on earth for four days every year with the four kids in tow. Portraying George Bush as Mother Teresa can only come a distant second. If you want to turn this spectacle into a mascot for mischief, where could you possibly start?

Perhaps it also helps that her devotees in Bengal are quite an irreverent lot themselves. Lots of Bongs these days take their faith lightly without belittling it and tend to be religious without being officious about religion. Every year, there are spoofs on Durga and her family in popular magazines and weekend supplements of major newspapers around the time of Durga Pujo. Thank goodness that we have not had champions of the faith storming the office of the Ananda Bazar Patrika to protect the honour of our gods, at least not quite yet. With luminaries like Buddhadeb Bhattacharya and Mamata Banerjee to look up to, this is one of the rare things that can still make you happy about life in Bengal. Vive le difference!

Unfortunately these satires are always in Bengali and that makes it a bit of a bother trying to share the fun with the non-Bongs and the hon-Bongs. This year, after ages, I have found something in a similar vein in English in the Graphiti section of the Telegraph of Calcutta. The author, Nabaneeta Dev Sen, a well-loved author, humorist, and teacher of comparative literature, needs no introduction to Bong readers. Those who don’t read Bengali might know her better as Amartya Sen’s first wife. I am attaching JPEG images of the five pages for you enjoyment in lieu of rashogollas for Bijaya Dashami. So, go ahead and join in the fun.

With shubhechchha, kola-kuli, pronaam and heartiest wishes for a wonderful year ahead, wherever you are,

Biswaroop, Madhuri, Mitti and Kabir

2009-09-14T15:40:00.006+05:30

i saw premlal at about 1.30 on monday afternoon in a busy OPD. he walked in, a tall burly man, whose blood pressure was recorded by the nurse outside as 150 / 110 mm Hg, which is high. i noticed his bloodshot eyes, and noted subconsciously that he did not smell of alcohol. he said he was a potter by profession and had come from neighbouring Madhya Pradesh. I asked why his eyes were red, and he said he had not slept the night before: he and his wife had travelled by bus from his village sekhwa to Pendra Road the previous night, waited at the station, then taken the train in the morning to Bilaspur and then another bus to reach Ganiyari. he complained of some non-specific low back pain, but i was more concerned with his high blood pressure.

i asked him to extend his arm so that i could measure his blood pressure again, and noticed that his hands were trembling. i asked about his alcohol consumption and he said he did drink occasionally, but not in the past month at least. i asked then why his hands were trembling and he said he had had it for the past five days. the reason? he had not been eating enough. since the previous day, all he had had to eat was one single roti: he could not afford any more.

as he said this, he turned away, frowning, and sat silently. i did not know what to say to him either.
i sent him for some investigations, and also gave him two free meal coupons to have lunch at the canteen we run at ganiyari. the free meals are courtesy some well wishers of jan swasthya sahyog.

he has been started on medication for his hypertension, and i still feel apologetic that his bloodshot eyes and trembling hands had made me wonder if he had been on a binge the night before, when the reality is so very different.

i think about this patient who travelled so far, saving on food in order to be able to afford the journey to ganiyari, after not having had enough to eat for some days before that. and i wonder when he will be able to afford two meals a day again. and whether he will be able to afford to return to continue his medication....chronic hunger is a reality for so many of our country's citizens

there are many premlals we see here.

tuesday

2009-09-10T06:27:00.011+05:30

tuesday's clinic at bamhni was less busy than usual: patients came in a steady stream and not all at once, which can sometimes be overwhelming. several patients with diarrhoea, two of them dehydrated. one woman very sick with pneumonia. four pregnant women, one child with a large abscess on her neck, another child with malaria, an infant with asthma. two old TB patients and one new one. a woman with rheumatoid arthritis, two patients with psychiatric illness, one with a seizure disorder on medication, four hypertensives. a man with an insect bite that has caused local necrosis, and old man with a malignancy. several with anaemia, two with otitis (a ear infection), a couple of dozen other patients with less serious problems.

and the first patient, a child, brought with abnormal behaviour for a month, when faith healing did not work. i brought him back with me to ganiyari and he is being investigated for the cause, having been started on medication to control the seizures.

patients come to the bamhni clinic from about 50 villages around, many crossing over from neighbouring madhya pradesh, walking a day or more to reach a nearby village where they stay with a relative to attend this clinic which runs on tuesdays. enterprising jeep drivers sometimes run chartered trips from a large village surhi about 10 km away, where patients can reach by bus. most come with serious problems, and the dearth of adequate medical care at an affordable price in this rural area on the border of chhattisgarh and madhya pradesh, is obvious.

this was one tuesday clinic inside a remote forest area, most tuesdays the clinic is busier and sicker than this one.

yet our Government seems to feel that people in rural areas have small problems that can be dealt with by badly trained health workers, or even a village level woman with minimal training, with no supervision or continuing support. access to secondary and tertiary level care - even primary care - is a dream for most of the population that resides outside large towns or cities.

2009-09-07T20:41:00.000+05:30

i am glad to report that phulsita's son-in-law ajit is back at work in the glass factory at faridabad. the shard of glass apparently pierced his eyelid, and just missed the eyeball. let us hope that he continues to be safe from injuries.

2009-09-06T12:31:00.000+05:30

this is my blogging consultant's blogsite dilip's blog .thanks a ton, dilip. just so i wont forget, trying out another link sloganmurugan's blog

skill training

2009-09-05T19:55:00.001+05:30

phaguni dai, a traditional birth attendant, learns on a mannikin how to resuscitate a newborn baby.

the camel

2009-09-04T23:43:00.000+05:30

i remember this from school : is this by ogden nash?

for centuries in desert lands,
the camel tramped the burning sands.
no other beast could stand the heat,
no other had such well padded feet.
but now he doesn't travel far -
the arabs use a motor car.

2009-09-03T07:48:00.000+05:30

"O tell me, why is your dhenki so noisy?
Because there is no paddy in it to pound.
Why is there no paddy in it?
Because I did not harvest any.
Why did you not harvest any?
Because I did not sow any.
Why did you not sow any paddy?
Because I did not till my field.
Why did you not till your field?
Because the frogs did not sing.
Why did the frogs not sing?
Because it did not rain........"

(Chattisgarhi song)

a piece of glass

2009-09-03T06:58:00.000+05:30

i just concluded a 2 day meeting with village health workers of villages within the achanakmaar sanctuary. again, the issue of the NREGA comes up. the health workers are angry, and give three written complaints: some who did not receive any wages at all for work done in 2008 and 2009; some who received part-wages, but for whom rs. 50 was deducted on some pretext or the other. others write that they were asked to pay rs. 50 for the photograph for the job card and those who could not pay did not get the job card: some got the card, but no payments are made without a photoID, so have not got wages.
we have worked hard, and we needed the money, they said, and we did not get it in time. now the rains are delayed, and the fields have dried up. with debts mounting, our menfolk have started migrating. to bilaspur, to bhopal, do delhi.
phulsita's husband and son-in-law have migrated to faridabad where they work in a glass factory. on monday her son-in-law called her say he had got a piece of glass in one eye and could not open it and hence had not gone to work. doctors are expensive, he told her over the phone when she urged him to seek care.
how did your son-in-law, a forest dweller who has only ever done some agricultural work, end up in a glass factory, i asked. well, she replied, beggars cant be choosers.
so now she waits for news of her son-in-law's eye: has he sought care? could someone take the piece of glass out? will he be able to see normally?
who is responsible for this? his own carelessness or the doctor who charges an unaffordable fees? the employer who does not provide safety precautions to the worker? the failed monsoon? or the NREGA that did not pay wages when it should have: a weekly payment that would have helped to prevent unmanageable debt and perhaps prevented this migration?

Dharmin

2009-08-29T21:42:00.000+05:30

The Body Mass Index or BMI, is a measure of one's weight in relation to one's own height, and gives and indication of the body's muscle mass and fat stores. Normal BMIs for men and women should range between 19 and 25. A BMI less than 18.5 indicates undernutrition, or in most cases, hunger.

A BMI between 13 and 15 corresponds to 48 to 55 percent of desirable body weight for a given height and is considered as the lowest body weight that can sustain life. At this level of BMI the body fat is less than 5 percent.

It seems logical therefore, that the BMI be used as an indicator of who should receive Government subsidies for various programmes, especially those that enable a person to purchase food at an affordable price.

Dharmin Gond is one of the TBAs I work with within the Achanakmaar sanctuary. She is 38, and lives in Katami with her husband and 3 children - a son 22, a girl 16, and the youngest a boy of 14. They own less than one acre of land, which has been given to her by her parents. Her in-laws are dead, their land was submerged when the Lamni dam was built some years ago. No land compensation was provided, and she does not know if any money was given.

She is heavily in debt: having borrowed 40 kg grain for sowing: the seedlings came up and during the dry spell in August, all of them dried up. She now has nothing to sow again, and has to return 80 kg to the farmer she borrowed from, and does not know how she will manage this.

They also borrowed Rs.1500 for a wedding @ 5% interest per month. Apart from this, they borrowed Rs.3500 for a bullock at the same rate of interest. The bullock which died of a mysterious illness within a month of purchase.She struggles to keep up with the interest payments.

They do not have a BPL card, and have to purchase rice at the market rate of Rs.16 / kg, or broken rice at Rs. 14 /kg. She is not sure how much they consume per month, but buys whenever they have Rs 50 or 100. But 10- kg rice lasts a maximum of 4 -5 days. She buys about Rs. 10 worth of masur daal during festival time, which they eat for 2 days. Masur is Rs. 60 per kg in the market now.

Both her sons and husband worked in NREGA in summer, and when they were paid, Rs. 50 was deducted from each one's wages as a standard procedure. There is no work in Katami now. They have heard that there is work in Lormi, but they need voter Id proof ,which they don’t have. They now have to go to the block headquarters at Lormi or to the Surhi Panchayat office to get it.

She also runs a creche for which she earns Rs. 1000 per month, which helps her in meeting some expenses.

Dharmin says she is distracted with worry about her debts and also about her daughter's marriage: her daughter wants to study further, but discontinued after the 8th standard to help in the house.

Dharmin's BMI is 15.3. She is barely above the body weight that can sustain life.

Yet according to our Government, she is not poor.

2009-08-26T22:09:00.000+05:30

back in the college campus at CMC, vellore for a few days. a beautiful green place with lots of walks, it always gives me a sense of peace and tranquility and continuity. the tamarind trees outside the anatomy department are the same ones that were there when i joined this college in 1981. the college store has a new look but the stones outside it on which we used to sit and talk are still there, with a new generation of students frequenting them. the first and second gates have not changed, nor has the chapel and the sunken garden. the huge stone buildings housing the biochemistry and physiology and pharmacology departments have lots of happy memories for me: thankfully the nightmarish events of pharm exams have faded from memory.
most of my teachers have retired, and my batchmates are now the "senior" staff in some departments. many of the students here on campus were not born when i joined college.
it has been a haven for so many of us, and those who live here do not realise how fortunate they are to be in a place like this, a cocoon from the world outside.
indeed, it is easy here to forget that another outside world exists.

nissim ezekiel

2009-08-24T10:14:00.000+05:30

The Patriot
by Nissim Ezekiel, 2005

I am standing for peace and non-violence.
Why world is fighting fighting
Why all people of world
Are not following Mahatma Gandhi,
I am simply not understanding.
Ancient Indian Wisdom is 100% correct,
I should say even 200% correct,
But modern generation is neglecting -
Too much going for fashion and foreign thing.
Other day I'm reading newspaper
(Every day I'm reading Times of India
To improve my English Language)
How one goonda fellow
Threw stone at Indirabehn.
Must be student unrest fellow, I am thinking.
Friends, Romans, Countrymen,
I am saying (to myself)
Lend me the ears.
Everything is coming -
Regeneration, Remuneration, Contraception.
Be patiently, brothers and sisters.
You want one glass lassi?
Very good for digestion.
With little salt, lovely drink,
Better than wine;
Not that I am ever tasting the wine.
I'm the total teetotaller, completely total,
But I say
Wine is for the drunkards only.
What you think of prospects of world peace?
Pakistan behaving like this,
China behaving like that,
It is making me really sad, I am telling you.
Really, most harassing me.
All men are brothers, no?
In India also
Gujaratis, Maharashtrians, Hindiwallahs
All brothers -Though some are having funny habits.
Still, you tolerate me,
I tolerate you,
One day Ram Rajya is surely coming.
You are going?
But you will visit again
Any time, any day,
I am not believing in ceremony
Always I am enjoying your company
-----------------------

where are they now?

2009-08-22T23:00:00.000+05:30

looking through my papers i came across this photograph. gangabada village, gajapati district, 1996, a group of saura women and children in a remote village accessible only on foot. one goes down the valley from champaghati near koinpur, then across two mountains and valleys to climb up again to gangabada. the walk down from there across the border into andhra pradesh is shorter. the sauras here eke a difficult and miserable living practising "bogodo" or shifting cultivation on the hill slopes. with shrinking forest available to them, they come back to the same patch of land at progressively shorter intervals, leaving little time for the soil to regenerate itself. this, along with the soil erosion caused by deforestation has resulted in diminishing returns on the cultivation done on the slopes. ragi and corn are the main crops grown.
malaria, malnutrition, tuberculosis, outbreaks of meningitis - all are common here, and health services are virtually absent. infant and maternal mortality at that time were way above national average. this part of orissa was marked out as "naxal infested" even then.
i wonder whether anything has changed there over the past 13 years. how many of the children and women in the picture are alive today?

Bengal Tiger

2009-08-21T19:06:00.000+05:30

this one always makes me laugh.
-----

BENGAL TIGER

Through the jongole I am went
On shooting Tiger I am bent
Boshtaard Tiger has eaten wife
No doubt I will avenge poor darling's life
Too much quiet, snakes and leeches
But I not fear these sons of beeches
Hearing loud noise I am jumping with start
But noise is coming from damn fool's heart
Taking care not to be fright
I am clutching rifle tight with eye to sight
Should Tiger come I will shoot and fall him down
Then like hero return to native town
Then through trees I am espying one cave
I am telling self - 'Banerjee be brave'
I am now proceeding with too much care
From far I smell this Tiger's lair
My leg shaking, sweat coming, I start pray
I think I will shoot Tiger some other day
Turning round I am going to flee
But Tiger giving bloody roar spotting Bengalee
He bounding from cave like footballer Pele
I run shouting 'Kali Ma tumi kothay gele'
Through the jongole I am running
With Tiger on my tail closer looming
I am a telling that never in life
I will risk again for my damn wife!!!!

Kiran Baiga

2009-08-20T12:15:00.000+05:30

Baigas are one of the primitive tribes of Chhattisgarh, and are extremely poor. They live in small scattered hamlets inside the forest. Kiran lives in Boirha village (inside the Achanakmaar sanctuary) which has no running water or electricity; the only tubewell in their hamlet is dry and they fetch water from a stream 2 kilometres from their village.

They are now threatened with eviction since the forest they have been living in for generations has now been declared a biosphere and human habitation is not to be allowed. Where they will be resettled is not known, and we at JSS have filed a petition under the Right to Information Act for details of the Government plan regarding their eviction.

Kiran, a primi, came to the Danganiya clinic for the first time at 8 months of pregnancy with high blood pressure, severe anaemia and swelling of the feet and legs. She was taken to the clinic at Ganiyari where she was given a blood transfusion, and was also started on medicines to reduce her blood pressure. She went home to await her baby and continues to be on iron and anti-hypertension tablets. Her ability to reach the clinic at Ganiyari is now dependent on the rains and whether the rivers are passable. Flash floods are common in the hilly forest region where she lives. Someone will need to cycle for an hour to inform our clinic at Bahmni, from where a cellphone link can sometimes be made to Ganiyari. An ambulance will take 1.5 hours to reach Bamhni, while Kiran will need to be probably carried from her village to the ambulance – a walk that may take upto three hours, assuming, of course, that the river is not flooded.

If she can be back at Ganiyari for her delivery, there is a good chance of saving both mother and child.

rain

2009-08-19T19:31:00.000+05:30

jaymati, the TBA from Atariya said this as she left for her village today afternoon: "itni baarish ho ki mere aadmi to pardesh na jaana pade". summed up the mood of the dais during the two day monthly meeting this time.
the past two days were hot and humid, with a thin layer of clouds acting like a greenhouse and trapping the heat all around us.
the first seedlings of rice have all dried up, and now there is neither grain in the house nor a prospect of a crop.
and migration has begun - to bilaspur, to bhopal, to delhi. the men are at construction sites, or hiring themselves out for daily wages in the cities, or working as ragpickers. anything to keep the family going till who knows when?
as i left bamhni this afternoon, it started raining, though not heavily enough, nor long enough to do any good, however.