After Mukhtar, Assiya

Nicholas Kristof, Not a Victim, But a Hero, New York Times, July 26, 2009.

BSF women to guard border: NDTV

NDTV Reports that the Border Security Force will post women along the India-Pakistan border.

July 19, 2009.

Neera Desai: Obit in EPW

Vibhuti Patel, Neera Desai (1925-2009): Pioneer of Women’s Studies in India, Economic and Political Weekly, July 11, 2009, Volume XLIV Number 28.

The front runner of Women’s Studies in India and the creator of a model women’s studies centre that combined the ethos of women’s studies and women’s movement at the SNDT University, Mumbai, Neera Desai passed away on 25 June.

[EPW articles are hard to access after the first week.]

Aruna Asaf Ali: EPW article abstract

Biswamoy Pati, From the Parlour to the Streets: A Short Note on Aruna Asaf Ali, Economic and Political Weekly, Volume XLIV Number 28, July 11, 2009.

Aruna Asaf Ali’s life and career were conditioned by her exposure to a political context which reflected diversity, secularism and anti-colonialism.

Her political

activism as a freedom fighter and

a woman activist encompassed

these strands of anti-colonialism

and radicalism. It finally

culminated in a clear support

for socialism – marking her

transition from being a member

of the Congress to joining the

Communist Party of India after

independence.

[EPW articles are accessible in the first week and thereafter only to subscribers.]

By a Prajnya Friend: Durgabai Deshmukh

Prema Kasturi who spoke at the Roundtable series a couple of months ago, writes with Prema Srinivasan on Durgabai Deshmukh.

Durgabai Deshmukh:A pioneer and a transformative leader, The Hindu, July 15, 2009.

A pioneer and a transformative leader

Prema Kasturi and Prema Srinivasan

DURGABAI DESHMUKH: Her legacy lies in the unseen and intangible spirit of sacrifice, dedicated work, leadership qualities, and stern discipline.

The nationalist spirit that led to India’s Independence engendered many unique personalities. At a time when women were considered mere commodities, a few pioneering women gained true empowerment by means of education, aided by their own courage and selflessness. Durgabai Deshmukh’s life is an illustration of what determination and dedication could achieve even when faced with seemingly insurmountable obstacles. She revolutionised the concept of social work, building on the diverse foundations laid by statesmen such as Ramabai Ranade, Mahatma Gandhi and Kakasahib Kalelkar. She laid the foundations of organised voluntary efforts and lobbied for state recognition and support to these institutions.

Durgabai was born in Rajahmundry on July 15, 1909, into a family that was dedicated to social service and that practised religious tolerance. She displayed leadership qualities even during her youthful interaction with other young people, and could teach in a palatable manner. Durgabai passed her matriculation examination privately in 1934 from Banaras Hindu University. She passed the intermediate examination and later B.A. Honours in Political Science. She continued her education into her late-20s and became a lawyer. In 1953, she married C.D. Deshmukh, who was the Union Finance Minister. He later became Chairman of the University Grants Commission and served as Vice Chancellor of Delhi University. Both were dedicated to public service.

Seeds of social reform were sown early in her mind and she became conscious of the injustice suffered by women in all strata. Perhaps this was due to the fact that the social reformer Kandukuri Veeresalingam was a close friend of her grandfather.

An important episode in young Durgabai’s life was her meeting with Mahatma Gandhi. As a 12-year-old she had collected money for the nationalist movement along with a few volunteers, and when she came face to face with the Mahatma she gave her gold bangles as well, on his request. It was a turning point, which further kindled her spirit of selfless service and patriotism.

Durgabai fought against the system of child marriage and dowry, and the harassment of widows in the name of custom, although she herself was married at the age of eight. She gradually became involved with the nationalist movement and understood the need for women to be educated. She was a forceful, persuasive public speaker and was imprisoned during the Salt Satyagraha. She came to understand the pitiable conditions of woman criminals and wished to arrange free legal aid for them. This gave the impetus to the free legal aid centre of the Andhra Mahila Sabha in Hyderabad, particularly to help unlettered women of all classes.

On the basis of her experience and observations, Durgabai realised that lack of education impeded women’s progress. Education would provide them economic independence and create social awareness. This impelled her to lay the foundation for adult education programmes, which were taken up by the government of independent India.

In 1922, she started Hindi classes in the Balika Hindi Pathashala. The mini-school was to be the nucleus of the future Andhra Mahila Sabha, the mammoth social welfare organisation which eventually had service centres in Madras, Hyderabad and several districts of Andhra Pradesh. The Madras institution, started in 1937, organised many programmes such as condensed courses of education for adult women, nursery schools and crèches for working mothers, milk distribution for poor children, training of auxiliary nurse midwives and maternity centres.

When her family settled down in Madras, the centre at Dwaraka, known as “the Little Ladies Club,” was formed. In 1939, Durgabai joined the Madras Law College and simultaneously started her work in the women and children’s wing of Chennapuri Andhra Maha Sabha. The celebration of the silver jubilee of the Andhra Maha Sabha led to the emergence of the Andhra Mahila Sabha. In 1946, Mahatma Gandhi laid the foundation stone for the first building of the Andhra Mahila Sabha. That marked the beginning of the establishment of numerous educational institutions at the primary, secondary, professional and tertiary levels.

Durgabai’s name is integrally linked with the Andhra Mahila Sabha. This grand institution has completed 100 years of useful service in the field of social welfare. The services organised by it are in the fields of health, medical care, nursing and education. The Sabha has contributed to the cause of adult education and literacy including functional literacy and non-formal education for rural women. Durgabai has been the inspiration for many dedicated, spirited, selfless and able voluntary workers, both men and women.

Durgabai was a member of the Constituent Assembly. By the time India attained Independence, she had established herself as a criminal lawyer and played an active role in drafting and enacting the Hindu Code Bill. Her efforts to elevate the status of women were evident in her involvement with parliamentary Bills. In 1952, she was appointed a member of the Planning Commission but relinquished the post as her husband was also a member. In 1953, she became the chairperson of the Central Social Welfare Board. In 1959, the government appointed her chairperson of the National Committee on Education.

Her autobiographies, Chintamani and I and The Course of My Life, were dedicated to Nehru. Her encyclopaedia, Social Welfare in India, is a valuable reference work for researchers even today. In 1979, Stone that Speaketh, her history of the Andhra Mahila Sabha, was released. It gives an account of the corner-stones of the institution laid by leading personalities over a period of 57 years, from 1921 to 1977.

Many awards and accolades came her way. She received the UNESCO Peace award for her work in spreading literacy. She received the Padma Vibhushan. The Paul G. Hoffman Award for bringing about social change in India and contribution to economic growth was conferred on her. She received the Nehru Literacy Award for services in the field of adult education.

She is perhaps best known for her work with the Andhra Mahila Sabha. But beyond that structure, her legacy lies in the unseen and intangible spirit of sacrifice, dedicated work, leadership qualities, and stern discipline.

 (Dr. Prema Kasturi was Professor and Head of the Department of History, Women’s Christian College, Chennai. Dr. Prema Srinivasan is a freelance journalist.)

Engendering History: Roundtable featuring Dr. S. Anandhi

The July 11th edition of our Women’s History Roundtable Series featured Dr. S. Anandhi from the Madras Institute of Development Studies. The title of her talk was ‘Engendering History: Experiences of Writing Nonbrahmin Women’s History.’

 

Dr. Anandhi’s presentation was absorbing and thought-provoking. It served as a wonderful, brief introduction to historiography and the various debates and perspectives that have shaped it over time. Yet, it was not pedantic or jargon-loaded and we were all able to follow along easily.

Anandhi said even archives were now far more democratic in what they included. She introduced us to the evolution of ‘oral history’ as a practice and its emergence as an important historical source. She pointed out that conventional history does not bypass archives as its primary source.

The question of people’s agency is a core one that has prompted this exploration of new tools, borrowed from elsewhere. Historians relied on archives which maintained official documents, but they do not map individual or community agency. For that, oral history and life-stories are the main resource. Historians have to figure out how to use them, how to find a teleological narrative in stories that may not be recalled in a linear fashion. Moreover, life-stories tend to be located in the domestic sphere, which while important, may not offer much help in terms of making a connection to public events.

She pointed out from her own research experience that women’s experiences–private and public, good and bad–did find a place in some old newspapers but not in others. Literature, diaries and newspaper contributions were alternative resources she used.

In the course of her talk, Anandhi mentioned work by a number of leading historians, expanding Prajnya’s reading list manifold. (FYI: We maintain an Amazon wishlist dedicated to this Initiative, and if you are a resident Indian citizen, you can make a contribution to our library!) 

The discussion centered around the limits of oral history and interdisciplinarity. How can you use oral history for periods where nobody is alive any more? How can oral history fill in all perspectives? We also pondered the balance between borrowing tools from other disciplines and adopting a vague research design that met no discipline’s rigourous standards. Anandhi stressed the importance of casting the research question, based on disciplinary knowledge and from within the interests of a discipline.

This was an excellent presentation and the post here does not begin to do it justice. The talk was so interesting, our notes are sketchy! We hope that Dr. Anandhi will find Prajnya’s projects interesting enough to take a leading role in shaping them and holding their outcomes to the highest professional standards.

A small graduation ceremony

Prajnya’s had a lucky summer for finding enthusiastic young team-members.

Earlier in the summer, two Anna University students got in touch with us, seeking internships for one month. S. Swarnalakshmi and M.D. Maheswari completed every task we gave them promptly and thoroughly, to our great delight. We have actually been unable to keep pace with them, and one of their projects a compendium of Tamil Nadu women representatives at different administrative levels, remains to be formatted into a ready reckoner. We are delighted that in spite of our delays, they want to still be involved with our work.

We held a small ‘graduation’ celebration for them at our usual meeting-place, the cafe at Crossword Bookstore, and here are some photographs.

We also want to take this opportunity to recognize Hamsini Ravi’s research assistance on a small review of ‘girl child’ related campaigns in India and Ragini Rangarajan’s work (evident in this blog) on new women MPs and surveying Chennai history departments. We hope to continue to work with them as well, although both study outside Chennai.

When defenders of justice speak thus…

Dilip D’Souza draws attention to something outrageous said in court during the defence of an actor charged with rape. If this is how the law is served, how poorly must justice be?!

Good news! Kerala villages turns dowry tide back

Ramesh Babu, Kerala village unties the dowry knot, Hindustan Times, July 6, 2009.

Six months of a spirited anti dowry campaign in Nilambur, 400 km north of Thiruvananthapuram, has transformed it into arguably the first village in the country where the giving and taking of dowry has been abolished altogether.

Dowry was rampant in Nilambur, a large village of nearly 40,000 people in Mallapuram district — as in most of North Kerala — earlier. A panchayat sponsored survey in the village last year found 1,300 girls who said they remained unmarried only because they could not afford the dowry required to get a groom. Forty per cent of families claimed they were brought close to bankruptcy by the dowry payments they made. Fifty two per cent of all divorces in the village, the survey found, were rooted in post marriage dowry demands.

Farida S, 27, for instance, was married off at the age of 14, when she was a Class VIII student. Her father paid her husband’s family 20 gold sovereigns and Rs 1 lakh in cash. But within five years of marriage, having given her two children by then, her husband deserted her.

Ummu Salma, 33, was thrown out by her husband’s family, along with her five year old  daughter 10 years ago, after her father failed to meet their repeated demands for dowry.

Suddenly all has changed. Aysha Tekkerparambhil, 36, living in penury with three children, never thought she would be able to get either of her daughters married. In May, thanks to the movement, one Anus Babu, 24, sought her 18-year-old elder daughter’s hand — without asking for a paisa in return.

How did it happen? “We helped people realize the havoc dowry was causing them,” said Aryadan Shoukat, 40, president of the Nilambur panchayat, who initiated the movement. “We asked them to pledge they would neither give nor take dowry.”

No startling, innovative methods were used, just persistence and dedication. There were public meetings in every village ward, door-to-door campaigns, street plays, motivation classes. ‘Dump dowry’ associations were set up. School children were involved in a major way.

“We projected taking dowry as the biggest sin anyone could commit,” said Selina T., spokesperson of the local unit of the HRD run Mahila Kamakhya, which assists the panchayat. “There hasn’t been a single dowry marriage here in the last two months.”

Rape law loopholes

Vinay Sitapati, Who’s afraid of an FIR? Indian Express, July 1, 2009.

The single-page version is available here: http://www.indianexpress.com/news/whos-afraid-of-an-fir/483499/0 and copied below in case the link is broken. It’s not very often gender violence is featured in mainstream op-ed pages! Bravo, Indian Express!

The rape of Mathura, a young tribal woman, by drunken policemen, marked the coming of age of feminist legal activism. The furore that followed the 1979 “not guilty” verdict led to Indian rape laws being eventually strengthened in four major ways: (1) coercion was to be presumed if sexual intercourse was proven in cases of gangrape and custodial rape (2) the raped woman would not be judged on the basis of her ‘character’ or past sexual history, (3) the victim’s identity was to be kept secret; proceedings were in camera and (4) improvements in medical methods can now conclusively identify the rapist. In the wee hours of Saturday in Shopian (Kashmir) 30 years later, these four changes came to nought. The body of Neelofar and her sister-in-law Asiya were found in a shallow stream next to a para-military camp. Their clothes were ripped off, the stream had earlier been searched, and the water-level was low. Yet the police put the death down to drowning and refused to register a first information report (FIR). In the post-mortem that followed, the doctors confirmed the police-version, and the forensic lab took forever to publish its findings. It was only when public anger that lit the entire Valley, that Chief Minister Omar Abdullah ordered an enquiry commission which has since confirmed sexual assault; several local officials have been suspended. Where the law failed, people pressure worked.

 Official callousness in Shopian is partly explained by the culture of impunity that prevails in conflict zones world over. The laws may be the same, but ‘war’ permits a certain license.

 

But the tragedy of Shopian is the tragedy of all of India. The failure to register FIRs is one of the biggest problems that raped women face. The number of rapes reported in India is large enough — 20,737 women reported that they were raped in 2007, about six a day. That’s an 800 per cent increase from 1971, when the National Crimes Records Bureau first began to compile rape statistics. But the real number is likely far higher. One widely quoted (though hard to verify) estimate is that for every one rape reported, 67 are not.

 

Botched medical tests are also deeply pervasive during investigations into rape in India. Outright fraud, like in Shopian, does happen: the post-mortem report of a Dalit woman gangraped in the Khairlanji massacre was famously tampered with. But more pervasive are the subtle humiliations that medical examinations inflict. Pratiksha Baxi, an assistant professor at JNU, has done extensive work on how the Indian legal system deals with rape cases. She points out “even when not fudged, the fact that the doctor does the ‘two-finger test’ to check whether the victim ‘is sexually habituated or not’ is using science to do what is directly banned — pass judgment on the sexual history of the raped woman.”

 

The publicity given to the victims in Shopian — with names and lurid descriptions of the injuries published — was perhaps necessary to establish the most basic of truths: that rape had taken place. But it points to something that Indian law ignores: the insensitivity of the process, making victim and family relive the nightmare of rape. In a Rajasthan trial last year, the cross-examination did this quite literally. As a shocked Rajasthan high court later described it, the raped woman “was made to lie on the bench available in the trial court to demonstrate her posture”!

 

The official response to allegations of rape against Shiney Ahuja offers a study in contrast. Unlike in Shopian, an FIR was swiftly registered and Ahuja taken in for questioning. The maid was medically examined; the report confirmed that sex had taken place. And unlike Shopian, three of the four post-Mathura changes in rape law did kick in. The identity of the maid has been kept secret. In sharp contrast to the appalling jokes on how came a lowly maid to refuse a film star’s advances, the police have made no such assumption — the character of the maid has (so far) not been a factor. Lastly, the advancements of science means that traces of Shiney’s DNA have been found on the maid’s body.

 

Action in the Shiney Ahuja case has perhaps been swift. The Chief Minister of Maharashtra has announced that the case will be tried in a fast-track court. But what about the other five women who reported rape that day in India? Is relentless public (and media) glare the only guarantee of speedy justice?

 

It is hard to form a sweeping indictment of our post-Mathura rape laws from just two cases. In fact, cold statistics indicate that while conviction for rape is low (in 26.4 per cent of cases), it is only slightly less than the conviction rate for violent crime (27 per cent). Besides, the charge sheet rate for rape is a super-high 94.6 per cent, meaning that virtually every complaint ends with the charges being framed by the police (the quality of investigation is quite another matter). Perhaps then, the solution is beyond the scope of any law. The lessons of Shopian — no FIR filing, fudged medical examinations and the public nature of the trial — require institutional sensitivity and honesty that no law can guarantee. The only guarantee of that, for raped women, hinges on one-off acts of paternal pity or the fury of the mob.