Tuesday 22 July 2014

The Heart of Light


Several meetings were held with the police officials of the area for the prevention of Nigerians and transgenders. An account of the wrongful activities going on here was given to them. As a result, the SHO closed down the places for vending liquor and other nefarious activities in the neighbourhood. All landlords are requested not to let their properties to Nigerians or other such disruptive elements.

This is the translation of a paragraph in a pamphlet issued by the Khirki Residents' Welfare Association earlier this year after a raid was conducted by Somnath Bharti, law minister in the Aam Aadmi Party government. Members of the African community were accused of being part of a drug and sex racket, searched, and publicly manhandled. The premise of this attack was not the due process of law. It derived its confidence of legitimacy from the complaints of many of the 'aggrieved' residents. These grievances emerged from a prevalent set of stereotypes that can get thus proliferated only in gullies that rub against and merge into each other, as in Khirki. The murmurs collude in insisting that Africans, especially Nigerians, are here for drug dealing and prostitution. When Joanna (name changed), an African student from Malawi says that she gets a three-year visa in one go while her Nigerian friends have to get it renewed every year, sometimes every six months, it becomes clear that one is dealing not just with mohalla rumours here but set perceptions at a much more deep-rooted level. The comfortable gullibility with which accusations become trusted facts stands out in sharp relief against the city's famed hospitality, its readiness to accommodate and fete guests. Would the prejudices in the Khirki lanes be so pronounced, authorities so casual, had the accused been from the other side of the Mediterranean? It is difficult to imagine the RWAs subjecting European visitors to such obloquy, though they have their own challenges to deal with.

Ola Jason, an erstwhile resident of Khirki who moved out to Chhatarpur some time after the incident, says, 'When you have pain, you have a story.' It is to trace this story that I traversed the streets of Khirki, to learn about the lives and aspirations of the African dwellers there beyond their status as victims. When I had moved to Malviya Nagar, the first piece of information I had received about Khirki was, 'You can get places at low rents there. But because the buildings stand so close together facing each other, not enough light comes through.' My visit to the place happened once or twice only to go to some Internet cafe for a print-out or to go to the ATM. I remember feeling, on these couple of occasions, more conscious of what I was wearing as the narrow lanes made you feel that not just the buildings but also the people were standing too close to you. Then a few months back I signed up for a dance workshop in Gati studio there, a privileged space, a protected corner in Delhi where you could feel completely free learning about how much exalting movement and expression your body is capable of, instead of just being something you're always trying to protect.


Gati Studio/Photograph courtesy: Soumik Mukherjee

As I stepped out of the studio each day after my class, my perception also changed. Far from being intrusive, the alleys seemed to contain an open community space, a common courtyard where people weren't just locked up inside their homes but were out there, interacting with each other, bargaining, selling, living the ease-and not the paranoia-of being the part of a crowd. The lanes came alive with the chatter, robust humour, bustle . . . the sheer assertion of being there. Those days I would take my own time getting back home, leisurely walking to take in the surroundings, buying vegetables, getting a recharge for my phone.

Now, when I notice the remarkable number of CCTV cameras perched over the streets like birds of prey waiting for their death feast in silent alertness, asking everyone to remember they are under the gaze, I wonder if, like me, for other residents of Khirki too their own mental state determines what they find in their surroundings. Are the lenses a source of reassurance or an infringement for them? Do they feel more secure or violated? Do the machines instil confidence or lend insecurities to their daily milieu? I try to think about what may have happened for them to project their fear upon what has otherwise been a safe space. What was their reason for having unleashed this vigilantism upon their African neighbours?

A CCTV camera notice in Khirki

Khirki's own landscape defies definitions. A road going uphill will suddenly plunge into a godown of watermelons. You enter one end not knowing what you will find at the other. The lanes which house Khoj, an artists' association, and the NGO Swechha, along with Gati, best illustrate the tone and temperament of the place. Looking around the labyrinth of lanes you can quickly make out why members of other nationalities feel more at ease there. The street is abuzz with people, shops and vendors so that the walking area is reduced to a narrow strip. One 'apartment gate' could lead to basement parking, another could be an opening to an entirely distinct lane of houses, and yet another could be the entry to a salon with 'Namaste' graffiti stamps on one wall and bold, colourful, 'India Beyond' on the other. A closet-like tailoring shop rubs shoulders with a pakora shop, and the entire scene is duly punctuated with vegetable vendors. The mix of voices tells you that you are amidst people from many places-India and beyond.


Basement salon

I look at the African residents purposefully going out for their planned evenings and question the ethics of accosting them to ask my questions. On the first day I decide not to, until I have got appointments through friends. After a few days have passed with no leads and I have grown more desperate, I visit again and finally decide to ask a girl who has been walking in the area for some time and therefore, I try to tell myself, may be relatively free. I approach her and tell her about the idea behind this story and she agrees to speak to me some day soon, giving me her number of her own accord. I am surprised by and grateful for her trust. However, on the appointed day she does not turn up, either understandably upset about my not having been able to confirm an earlier appointment or having had apprehensions about the interview in retrospect.

It is not easy to establish contact with the Africans living in Khirki. Some of my mails to Indian artists and photographers well versed with the area-full of promises to respect my interviewees' privacy and to tread with sensitivity-go unanswered. These are people who in all likelihood are by now tired of people plaguing them with similar requests, having already complied with many. Other, closer friends do their best to help and succeed in putting me in touch with a couple of their African friends. My friends warn me that it was months before they could win the trust of their neighbours from another continent and, as it turns out, even with a reference many choose not to talk to me. After the raid and the subsequent controversy, and the tension gripping the area, there has been a certain amount of mistrust around Indians. There could also be the threat of being singled out because of their statements. Talking to African students studying in the universities here, whom I also met to get their perspective, was a little easier. As Jason tells me, like him, many Africans also decided to leave Khirki after the raid and are now settled in different areas from Chhatarpur to Janakpuri.

Srishti Lakhera, a filmmaker living in the colony, says that while Indian men gawking at or harassing women in the city is a common enough experience, she never faced any trouble from anyone of African nationality. In fact she has some good friends in the community. While I and my friend wait outside an apartment to meet an African contact for this piece, we find ourselves being looked at by many men. Some are also of African origin, though considering my several visits to Khirki the latter could be called an exception. In spite of knowing that generalization is a dangerous tendency in the social paradigm, we still let stereotypes target a community, more so if it is small and vulnerable. The media makes us feel so outraged every time there is news about Indians insensitively frisked at airports. We are incensed over 'our' people being subjected to discrimination in high-profile areas of corporate affairs, sports and diplomacy. Have we still learnt nothing about the injustice we commit and the intolerance we encourage by 'othering' communities? If Marie Curie is to be believed, 'Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood.' But we tend to feel fear, not healthy curiosity, wherever we find difference. We discriminate not just on the basis of countries but states, regions, caste, sub-caste, language, dialect, class. In Khirki, Muslim landlords prefer African Muslims as tenants rather than Christians from the same place. Halilu Babaji, a Nigerian doctoral candidate in Delhi University, asks, 'How can you judge someone unless you know them personally?' There are drug dealers and prostitutes in India too, even if we do not get into a debate over their legal status here. Srishti says that such Indians have learned to be more discreet, and even know their way around authorities. On the other hand, Africans, used to a much more open culture, aren't used to such caution. They literally have to pay for being 'them' as the rents they are charged are higher than those paid by 'us', Indians.


Babaji with a memento received in a university conference

Women of African descent have to sometimes face the worst of it. Unlike most Indian women, African women can be seen carrying themselves unapologetically and easily. Probably for several Indian men this becomes, as other signs of independence in women, a cause for insecurity, or disturbs their religious sense of virtue that is seen as reposited with women, and they pass lewd comments on the women. Despite such attacks, I notice with great respect that the women retain their uninhibited body language and often dress in their traditional attire, instead of always trying to conform and escape undue attention. Babaji recalls an African friend who once went up to an Indian woman to ask something and she panicked and started screaming. He finds the African culture better in this regard for it allows men and women to have regular interactions and does not compel them to remain alien to each other. He adds that while behaving in such spaces men know the laws and the consequences of not respecting women, or of trying to impose themselves on women. If India too, he feels, would be less conservative about following a rigid code of separation between men and women, there would be far fewer instances of violence on women.

In Khirki there are Africans who have earlier lived in other cities like Hyderabad and Pune, and find them much better and open minded. Temidara, a student from Ekiti, Nigeria, who has lived in Chandigarh and Mohali, describes her overall experience there as 'pretty good'. A Master's student Yucee Okoronkwo, whose name doesn't seem so unfamiliar to his literature friends who have studied Achebe's Things Fall Apart in Delhi University, has recently finished his dissertation on the anti-terrorism laws of India and Nigeria and is an avid blogger on the legal-political issues of both the regions. I ask him if he would have liked to stay in a place other than Delhi. He replies that despite its discriminatory practices, Delhi would probably still be more adaptive to foreigners, being more used to them. He remembers a trip to Himachal, which for all its beauty had irked him when people there would go around clicking his pictures without permission. Once he leaves, he says, he would miss India's cultural variety, which he had best experienced living in DU's International Students House and while organizing the intercultural festivals there. In these festivals students from different countries would participate with their music, dance, food, dresses and crafts. Kelvin Obi Olisamuni from Lagos, Nigeria, who has passed out of Ramjas College and Jamia Millia Islamia and lives in Kalkaji, also appreciates this about Delhi and is glad to have met his French girlfriend here. He agrees finding friendships becomes easier if you are in the university, that too as an undergraduate when other students are also new, still trying to find their footing. Joanna feels the same. She met her best friend from Assam on her very first day in Miranda House as a political science student.

However, students cannot be on campus all the time, where they have understanding, camaraderie and much more respect for differences. Once out on the road, they too have to face stares and catcalls. Kelvin says, 'When I hear them calling me names like kalu and habshi, I really want to ask them to grow up. I am a black man and proud of it. But what's wrong with Indians who are so crazy about fairness creams? For me someone's fairness doesn't make a difference. You have to be smart to get my attention. That's why I like Deepika Padukone and Priyanka Chopra better.' Joanna quips, 'Why am I always asked what I am doing in India? Do Indians feel that their country is not worth coming to? I would understand if they would ask me something more specific like what my special motivation was or about the particular things I like in this country.' Her response to hoots is to plug in her earphones and block the voices out, though she frets about her sister in Daulat Ram College who is much more vulnerable. Babaji feels that while racism exists in a country like the UK too, there people are careful not to let it show blatantly, 'I once boarded an auto here and the driver asked me to get off. After I did, I saw that a few metres ahead he picked up an Indian passenger. He describes another incident, 'I used to go to this shop where the shopkeeper would keep attending to other customers, ignoring me for a long time. Once a foreigner intervened on my behalf and called out the store owner.' In India other foreigners would often reach out to him, though he ultimately made Indian friends too and grew close to them.

Jason's experience of being gazed at was slightly different. 'When I was in Khirki, I used to work out in the gym for an hour. Eventually I had to reduce it to fifteen minutes because people would be gaping at me all the time. When I would ask them why, they would compliment me on having a great body and ask for tips about what they should eat and drink to have a body like mine,' he blushes. He continues to have this experience on the Metro and on the road. Like Kelvin, he too has had modelling offers and even accepted some (though one couldn't help notice that Lee Cooper chose to dress up Kelvin as a Masai warrior and a white guy in jeans to show stages of evolution in human clothing styles). Jason elaborates, 'When people look at me, it makes me anxious about what they might be thinking. So I ask them why. And even if they had something else on their mind, I would prefer if they say that they were admiring something about me, though such stares too can be tiring.' He is often benign in his treatment of onlookers, 'When a man once asked me if I were a south Indian and asked to touch my hair, I let him. By doing so, I helped him accomplish a mission going on in his own mind or it would have kept troubling him.' In strangers he was able to find some of his closest friends. An old man befriended him on the Metro and later had his son pick Jason up and bring him home. It developed into a relationship with all the family members, joining them for lunches and dinners and learning to cook Indian food. When not too tired to opt for KFC or Domino's, Jason cooks Indian and African food and is aghast that I cannot make chapattis.

For Chike, another Nigerian, who owns a salon on the outer side of Khirki facing the Saket malls, the 'auto man' is his best friend who comes whenever Chike gives him a call and takes him wherever he needs to go. He has been in Delhi for a year and while the salon is doing well with several Indian men as part of its clientele, he could do better, Chike feels, if he could also open his cafe. He proudly recounts how all his meat pies got sold in the Antarrashtriya Khirkee Festival organized in March 2014 by a community of resident artists and others. But because of language issues he is unable to communicate with his landlord for a little more space for the cafe.


Chike in his salon

For Kelvin and Jason, Bollywood fans with a host of Indian friends, language isn't a similar barrier. Jason remembers how at home he would be doing dishes to the tune of 'Yeh duniya ek numberi, toh main das numberi' as a child. Even then he knew that he would be coming to India one day, though people at home often miss him and feel he should come home now. Talking of his reasons for leaving Khirki, Jason shares that he used to be an articulate, vocal member of the community. When the raid happened, national and international journalists were coming to speak to him. His name became familiar in the locality and he also got a call from Somnath Bharti's office about creating an Indo-African community. All this created suspicion around him in the community; some felt Jason was trying to sell them out. He felt that his landlord had started seeing him as a threat. His apartment was broken into, and money and valuables were stolen. He then decided it was time to move out and keep to himself for some time. In response to a question about what he does, his answer is, 'I can sing, I can cook, I can make someone look good, like in a salon, I can write, and I can make documentaries.' His current passion project is to start a magazine, which would serve as a space for African voices, 'Many people have faced many troubles but don't have the space to share. Reading about others will help them believe they too can do something.' Leaning against a portrait of Martin Luther King, Jr., he talks of how Gandhi and Mandela had to struggle so much, 'But ultimately it is their success that is celebrated.' He refers to a park in Malviya Nagar as his example, saying it won't have been named after Bhagat Singh had he not been a revolutionary, 'A strong leader has a clear vision and clears all the roadblocks in his path.' This is the sort of vision he now has for the magazine. His other dream is to have a storytelling place for children called 'Tales by Moonlight'. He wants that kids from different national backgrounds should get together to share their stories, play games and attend and participate in dance and musical performances. Through this, he hopes to make them culturally rich and tolerant from the very beginning.


Ola Jason

Possibly the Antarrashtriya Khirkee Festival organized in Khirki and Sheikh Sarai was a glimpse of the dreams Jason and others like him cherish. The 'friendship festival', through the participation of the numerous nationalities living in Khirki, had a photo exhibition, food stalls, video screenings, singing and drumming. It had Indian kids joining their African friends in hip hop performances and African youth rapping in Hindi. Another significant effort in bridging interracial differences was Gabriel Dattatreyan's film Cry Out Loud, which not only documents the community's experiences but also uses young local talent to put the film together. Baba Da Dhaba, an open air eatery run by Indians, is a place Africans come to for their north Indian fare. One hopes that through the contribution of both Indian and African communities more such spaces for mingling and dialogue grow, and that soon enough, along with Sai Mandir and Krishna Mandir, 'Tales by Moonlight' becomes a popular landmark in the area.


Baba Da Dhaba

Srishti Lakhera and Smita Rakesh participated in conducting some of the interviews. All photographs of people and their properties have been taken with permission.


First published in The Equator Line, Jul-Sep, 2014. Later published in the anthology The Best of TEL, May 2015.









Sunday 13 July 2014

तफ़रीह

सड़कों की ख़ाक छानना ज़रूरी है,
ताकि घर को चाय के साथ आपका इंतज़ार करने का मौका मिले। 


First published in Samalochan, 10 July 2014.

गलती से मिस्टेक

हम बस ज़रा हट के दिखना चाह रहे थे,
आपने तो हटा ही दिया। 


First published in Samalochan, 10 July 2014.


कीटाणु

'क्या आप जानते हैं?
आपके घर में 
फ़र्श के ऊपर,
कालीन के नीचे,
टॉयलेट के पीछे,
नसों को खींचे, मुट्ठियाँ भींचें
आप पर हमला करने को तैयार हैं 
सैकड़ों, लाखों, करोड़ों कीटाणु?'


जी? जी, नहीं।
अब रेंगते वक्त इन बातों का खयाल ही कहाँ रहता है?



First published in Samalochan, 10 July 2014.



















मिस की चेतावनी

'क्या करोगे नहीं पढ़ोगे तो?
रिक्शा चलाओगे?
फेल होके स्कूल से नाम कट जाएगा,
फिर बैठे रहना चरवाहा विद्यालय में।'

हम डर गए, पढ लिए। 

अब कोई और चलाता है रिक्शा,
कोई और बैठे रहता है चरवाहा विद्यालय में।

First published in Samalochan, 10 July 2014.

व्यतीत

इंतज़ार करते हुए वक्त नहीं, हम बीतते हैं 
और इंतज़ार करानेवाला सोचता रह जाता है 
कि जितना छोड़ गया था
उससे कम कैसे?


First published in Samalochan, 10 July 2014.

आत्मीय

वो तो शुक्र है आज आपने खुलासा कर दिया 
कि आप मेरे आत्मीय हैं
और व्यर्थ की औपचारिकता छोड़ मुझ पर अपने अधिकार ले लिए।   

वरना कमबख्त ये मेरी आत्मा तो बड़ी घुन्नी निकली,
आज तक मुँह में दही जमाए बैठी थी, बताईए ज़रा


First published in Samalochan, 10 July 2014.

संशय और सम्पूर्णता

किसी होना हम कई वजहों से नकार सकते हैं।  

अपने जीवन में उसकी उपस्थिति स्वीकारने का अर्थ होता है
खुद को हज़ार सफाईयाँ देना, खुद सवाल खड़े करना और फिर जवाबों से मुँह चुराना -
जिस ज़मीर को हाल ही में झाड़-पोंछ, साफ़-पाक़ कर फ़ख्र से घूम रहे थे
उस बेचारे दागी को एक नए सिरे से होनेवाली शिनाख्त के लिए भेजना।  

ऐसे में यही हल नज़र आता है कि बार-बार गोल-गोल घूम चक्कर खाने से बेहतर है 
बात को हँसी में उड़ा दें। 

पर फिर उसी का न होना
इतने संशयहीन पैनेपन से भेदता है
जितना संपूर्ण हो सकता है 

सिर्फ किसी गलती का एकाकीपन। 


First published in Samalochan, 10 July 2014.

समय-समय की बात

क्यों इन्सान को इतना समय लगता है 
अपनी धूल झाड़ खड़े होने में,
जबकि हाथ झाड़ते उसे तनिक देर नहीं लगती?


First published in Samalochan, 10 July 2014.


सौदा

'इस बार संतरे हर जगह महंगे हैं।'
अच्छा, भैया, आप कहते हैं तो मान लेती हूँ। 

नहीं, ऐसी निरी नहीं कि शक ना आया हो मन में,
पर ठगे जाने का डर गौण था 
विश्वास करने की क्षमता को खो देने के भय के सामने।   


First published in Samalochan, 10 July 2014.




दिल्ली से दरभंगा दूर 

इन रोशनियों से जी ही नहीं भरता,
यूँ चिराग तो हमारे घर भी जलता है


First published in Samalochan, 10 July 2014.

आख़िर इन लड़कियों को चाहिए क्या?

यही कि कोई उन्हें ना बताए,
कि उन्हें चाहिए क्या।  


First published in Samalochan, 10 July 2014.




Friday 4 July 2014

Post-Rain Check

After the rain
you want to go and see
if the dewdrop balanced between the end of the stem and the beginning of the leaf
marked present by the erstwhile clear morning sky
is still there.
You want it to live.


First published in Muse India, Jul-Aug 2014.

कमज़ोर कायदे: औरतों को गैर-बराबर ठहराते कानून

चुनाव के बाद हुई संसद की प्रथम संयुक्त बैठक में राष्ट्रपति प्रणब मुखर्जी ने लोक सभा अध्यक्ष सुमित्रा महाजन को उनके नए पद पर बधाई देते हुए कहा, 'एक के बाद एक महिला अध्यक्षों का चयन करके लोक सभा ने इस चिरकालीन धारणा की पुष्टि की है कि महिलायें हमारे समाज का एक महत्वपूर्ण हिस्सा हैं।' औरतों के लिए संसद और राज्य विधान सभाओं में ३३ प्रतिशत आरक्षण का आश्वासन देते हुए उन्होनें सरकार की ओर से 'बेटी बचाओ, बेटी पढ़ाओ' आन्दोलन छेड़ने की बात की। यह भी कहा की महिलाओं पर की गई हिंसा की वारदातों की तरफ़ कोई सहनशीलता नहीं बरती जाएगी। 

हर सरकार मौखिक रूप से महिलाओं की बराबरी, शिक्षा, सुरक्षा, रोज़गार आदि को लेकर ऐसी ही मौखिक प्रतिबद्धता जताती है। पर अगर देश के कानूनों में इस प्रतिबद्धता को ढूंढा जाए तो यह कह पाना कठिन है कि असहनशीलता औरतों के दमन को लेकर है या खुद औरतों की तरफ़। मसलन गोवा के हिन्दुओं के लिए बनाए गए एक कानून के अन्तर्गत अगर महिला २५ साल की उम्र तक माँ नहीं बनती या ३० साल की आयु तक उसे कोई पुत्र नहीं होता, तो उसके पति की दूसरी शादी कानूनी मानी जाएगी। अगर पहली पत्नी की तरफ से अलगाव की पहल की गई और अगर उसका कोई पुत्र नहीं, तो पुरुष के दूसरे विवाह को ही मान्यता दी जाएगी। 

महिला व बाल अधिकारों पर काम करनेवाली अधिवक्ता कीर्ति सिंह द्वारा लिखी गई, अगस्त २०१३ में छपी, संयुक्त राष्ट्र की एक रिपोर्ट ने इस किस्म के दूसरे कानूनों का भी मुआयना किया है जो औरतों के हकों के खिलाफ़ जाते हैं या उनके लिए मुश्किलें खडी कर बेटियों की तुलना में पुत्र चयन को बढावा देते हैं। यहाँ रिपोर्ट में वर्णित ऐसे ही अन्य कानूनी कमियों का सार प्रस्तुत करने की कोशिश की गई है। 
 
दहेज विरोधी कानून 

सन् २०११ के आँकडे बताते हैं कि हर ५ मिनट पति या उसके रिश्तेदारों द्वारा की गई क्रूरता, प्रति ६१ मिनट दहेज संबन्धी मृत्यु और प्रत्येक ७९ मिनट दहेज निषेध कानून के अन्तर्गत एक मामला दर्ज किया जाता था। 

कानून को कुछ ऐसे परिभाषित किया गया है जिससे लगता है कि लड़केवाले भी उसी तरीके से दहेज देने के लिए मजबूर और प्रताडित किए जा सकते हैं। यह स्थिति की सच्ची तस्वीर बिल्कुल नहीं। इससे दहेज लोभी परिवारों को लड़कीवालों को परेशान करने का एक और मौका मिलता है। 

दहेज को उस धन-सम्पत्ति की तरह देखा गया है जिसे विवाह के सिलसिले में लिया-दिया गया हो। पर शादी के बाद के उन सभी मौकों को नज़रंदाज़ किया गया है जब लड़की के घरवालों से कई तरह की माँगें की जाती हैं। 

शादी पर किए जानेवाले खर्चे पर सरकार की तरफ से कोई सीमा नहीं लगाई गई। तोहफों की सूची बनाने पर भी कोई बाध्यता नहीं। 

यदि दहेज के कारण किसी लड़की की मृत्यु हो जाए, तो भी दोषी को सज़ा नहीं मिलेगी जब तक यह साबित नहीं होता कि प्रताडना मृत्यु के कुछ समय पहले की गई थी। दहेज की वजह से होने वाली मौत की सज़ा हो सकती है सात वर्ष से लेकर उम्रकैद तक। पर इसे हत्या के बराबर नहीं देखा जाता, जिसकी सज़ा आजीवन कारावास होती है। 

रिपोर्ट ने इस बात पर ज़ोर दिया है कि दहेज ना तो महिलाओं के उत्तराधिकार हकों की जगह ले सकता है और ना ही ऐसी स्थिति वांछनीय है। दहेज केवल औरतों की आर्थिक और सामाजिक हैसियत को गौण बनाता है। 

उत्तराधिकार संबन्धी कानून 

हिन्दू उत्तराधिकार अधिनियम के अन्तर्गत एक पुरुष कि मृत्यु के पश्चात् उसकी सम्पत्ति पर अधिकार बनता है उसकी पत्नी, माँ, बच्चों, या इनकी अनुपस्थिति में इनके प्रतिनिधियों का। जबकि औरतों के लिए यह अलग है। यदि उसे सम्पत्ति माँ या पिता से मिली है, तो उस पर हक बनता है पिता के उत्तराधिकारियों का। पति या ससुर से प्राप्त किए जाने पर पति के वारिस उस सम्पत्ति पर अपना हक समझ सकते हैं। यदि औरत की सम्पत्ति उसकी खुद की बनाई हुई है, तो उसकी मृत्यु के बाद उस पर पहला हक बनता है उसके पति और बच्चों का। इन दोनों के ना होने पर ही सम्पत्ति उसकी माँ या उसके पिता के हिस्से जा सकती है। सन् २००९ के ओमप्रकाश बनाम राधाचरण मुकदमे में सुप्रीम कोर्ट के सामने एक ऐसा मामला था जिसमें एक महिला सास-ससुर के दुर्व्यवहार और परित्याग के कारण अपने पति की मौत के बाद अपने माता-पिता के साथ रहने लगी थी और खुद काम कर आत्मनिर्भर बन चुकी थी। महिला की मृत्यु के बाद कोर्ट ने कानून को अन्यायपूर्ण घोषित करके भी यही फैसला सुनाया कि मृत महिला की स्वार्जित सम्पत्ति उसके सास-ससुर के पास जाएगी। 

मुस्लिम व्यक्तिगत विधि के हिसाब से औरत को मर्द को मिलनेवाली सम्पत्ति का आधा हिस्सा मिलता है। यानि अगर बेटा और बेटी दोनों मौजूद हैं, तो बेटी को एक और बेटे को सम्पत्ति के दो हिस्से मिलते हैं। 

ईसाई धर्म में जन्मे जो लोग उसके परंपरागत कानूनों के तहत नहीं आते उन पर भारतीय उत्तराधिकार अधिनियम लागू होता है। कानून के हिसाब से पुरुष की सम्पत्ति का दो-तिहाई हिस्सा उसके वंशजों को मिलता है और एक-तिहाई उसकी पत्नी को। वंशज के अभाव में आधा हिस्सा सम्बंधियों और आधा पत्नी को जाता है। रिश्तेदारों और वंशजों के ना होने पर ही पूरी सम्पत्ति पत्नी को मिल सकती है। 

अगर किसी गैर-पारसी महिला ने किसी पारसी पुरुष से शादी की, तो उस पुरुष की सम्पत्ति पर पत्नी का कोई हक नहीं बनता, जबकि बच्चों को हकदार माना जाता है। पारसी महिला के गैर-पारसी पुरुष से विवाह करने पर बच्चों को पारसी नहीं माना जाता। 

बहुत राज्यों में औरतें सम्पत्ति की हकदार तो बनती हैं लेकिन ज़मीन से जुड़े पुराने कानूनों के कारण वहाँ उनके अधिकारों का हनन होता है। सरकार द्वारा दी जा रही ज़मीन के सन्दर्भ में भी कई राज्यों के कानूनों के अनुसार बेटे को ही ज़मीन मिलने की बात है। 

लिंग जाँच निषेध कानून 

०-६ के आयु वर्ग में भारत में जहाँ १००० लड़कों के मुकाबले सन् २००१ में ९२७ लड़कियाँ हुआ करती थीं, वहीं २०११ की गणना में यह संख्या घट कर ९१९ हो गई। एक सख्त कानून होने के बावजूद अभी इसमें ऐसा कोई विधान नहीं जिससे एक गर्भवती महिला के नियमित परीक्षण के दौरान हो रहे अल्ट्रासाउंड के ज़रिये करवाये जा रहे लिंग जाँच को रोका जा सके। भारतीय दण्ड संहिता में 'गर्भपात' की सज़ा से जुड़ी कुछ धारायें हैं, जैसे यदि कोई महिला 'स्वयं अपने गर्भ समापन के लिए ज़िम्मेदार हो', तो उसे दोषी माना जा सकता है। इन धाराओं को हटाने की ज़रुरत है क्योंकि औषधीय गर्भसमापन कानून के अन्तर्गत उन सभी स्थितियों का ब्योरा दिया जा चुका है जिनमें कानूनी तौर पर गर्भ समापन किया जा सकता है। 

इसके अलावा जनसंख्या नियन्त्रण के तहत केवल दो बच्चे होने पर सरकार ने जो फायदे देने शुरु किए उसका असर भी लड़कियों की भ्रूण हत्या पर पड़ा। दो बच्चे रखने की स्थिति में लोगों ने लड़कियों की जगह लड़कों को और वरीयता देनी शुरु कर दी। 

बाल विवाह प्रतिबंध 

बाल विवाह पर रोक होने के बाद भी कानून ने इसे अवैध्य नहीं ठहराया है। विवाह के लिए लड़की की आयु १८ और लड़के की उम्र २१ रखी गई है। इस अंतर को ना तो कानून में समझाया गया है, और ना ही इस फर्क की ज़रुरत थी। शादी के वक्त लड़की का १८ साल का होना ज़रुरी है। फिर भी कानूनी तौर पर 'शादी' के अन्दर अगर यौनिक संबन्ध बनाए गए हैं और लड़की कम से कम १५ साल की है, तो उसे बलात्कार नहीं माना जाएगा। 

बच्चों के संरक्षण का हक 

संशोधन के बाद हिन्दू दत्तक और भरण-पोषण अधिनियम के अन्तर्गत शादी-शुदा महिलाओं को गोद लेने का बराबर हक है (यह सभी धर्म-समुदाय के लिए नहीं)। पर वे आज भी अपने बच्चों की बराबर संरक्षक नहीं। प्राकृतिक अभिभावक आज भी पिता ही है। 

कार्यस्थल पर यौनिक हिंसा के खिलाफ़ कानून 

कानून के एक हिस्से में 'दुर्भावनापूर्ण उद्देश्य से की गई शिकायत' के लिए महिला को सज़ा का हकदार ठहराने की बात की गई है। यह बाकी पूरे कानून को कमज़ोर बनाता है। इससे महिलाएँ शिकायत करने में और भी असुरक्षित महसूस करती हैं। असंगठित श्रम में जुटी औरतों के लिए भी इसमें कोई प्रावधान नहीं। 

वैवाहिक सम्पत्ति पर अधिकार  

तलाक के बाद महिला का ऐसी सम्पत्ति पर कोई हक नहीं जो उसके विवाहित काल के दौरान पति के नाम पर खरीदी गई हो। अपने पति से निर्वाह के लिए मिलनेवाले जिन पैसों पर उसका हक है उसे हासिल करने के लिए और लम्बे मुकदमों में उलझना पड़ता है, जिनमें आनेवाले खर्चों को वहन करना आसान नहीं। 

वर्ष २०१३ में ही ४०५ महिलाओं पर किए गए एक अध्ययन में पाया गया कि विवाह विच्छेद उपरांत ७१.४ महिलाएँ अपने माता-पिता के घर लौट जाती हैं। जो माएँ होती हैं उनमें से ८५.६ प्रतिशत अपने बच्चों को भी पाल रही होती हैं। केवल १८.५ फीसदी औरतें ही खुद तलाक की माँग करती हैं। विलग और तलाकशुदा औरतों के साथ काम करती संस्थाएँ कहती आई हैं कि आर्थिक और सामाजिक असुरक्षा के कारण भारत में बहुत कम ही औरतें तलाक लेने के लिए सामने आती हैं। 

विवाह और यौनिक हिंसा 

बलात्कार संबन्धी कानून में हिंसा की सीमित परिभाषाओं और उसकी दूसरी कमियों को लेकर एक अलग और लम्बी चर्चा की ज़रुरत है। जहाँ तक शादी के अंदर होने वाले बलात्कार का मुद्दा है, तो उसे रोकने के लिए कोई कानून नहीं। वहीं विलग हुई पत्नी का बलात्कार करने पर केवल २-७ साल तक की ही सज़ा हो सकती है, जो कि बलात्कार के अधिकतम दण्ड से बहुत कम है। 

 . . . 

इन कानूनों पर चर्चा के अलावा रिपोर्ट ने कानूनों के सकारात्मक पक्षों की ओर ध्यान दिलाते हुए सरकारी व गैर-सरकारी संस्थानों द्वारा कार्यान्वयन संबन्धी सुझाव दिए हैं और 'औनर किलिंग' जैसे तेज़ी से बढ़ते अपराधों को रोकने हेतु खास कानून बनाने की बात की है।  

    
    For Morcha, July 2014. 

Mine

You will know the rocks that hold the stones but will dare not venture into them.
Not knowing what fear is, you'll pretend to know all about it by avoiding the mud, the pits, the jagged ends of things.

But I have known.

I have known how gratefully they come to me for sanctuary.
They are mine because I made them.
I birthed them when I cleaned them of the mud, the pits, the jagged ends.
Till I had met them they were not.
And because I birthed them, made them.
I cried for joy and kissed them.
Because of the mud, the pits and the jagged ends.

I dealt with the awkwardness of embracing a thing so small, tried many angles, and did my best to hug them.

And you who do not know, do not know a thing about a thing,
Carry them about on your limp wrists,
Ears that years ago mixed up listening-hearing,
Your bony ashen fingers,
And your cold hearts.

You make me yawn.

You think you own them,
But they'll never belong to you.
You give what you know to be a triumphant smile, the only kind you know,
(But it's so sad, oh, so sad)
And you say it doesn't matter, that you don't care.

But if only you knew.
If only you knew
What it is
To matter to, to be cared for by
The thing that you own.
What it is
For it to belong to you.
What it is
To trade the dead weight of a bird around your neck
For a mere feather
That bounces off and floats around you
But never strays afar
Of its own will
And comes to rest in the crook of your neck.


First published in Muse India, Jul-Aug 2014.




Thursday 3 July 2014

Red Velvet

My first view of the red velvet gilt-edged diary
Was of its opening page, of a declaration in my newly-wed aunt’s hand
On my uncle’s behalf
Saying he will never hit her again
Signed by my uncle, with love.

In the bottommost shelf of her almirah
I saw the book again today
When her teenaged daughter was rummaging for a favourite top.

Skipping several blank pages after the first one
I saw my aunt’s grocery lists
And miniscule digits secured in ovals
That showed how much she had managed to save.


First published in Muse India, Jul-Aug 2014. Subsequently published in Califragile, 23 Jan 2018.



Split-Vision

To watch the act you go together
But what you see 
You see alone.


First published in Muse India, Jul-Aug 2014.


Wednesday 2 July 2014

I Can Explain This

Maybe you think I didn’t look at your roses
(Yes, yes, I know they were only twenty a bunch)
Because glass-caged, glassy-eyed, voices do not reach me
Or that
Conditioned-hair, conditioned-air, the thoughts in my head are frozen
 
But my eyes didn’t go to meet yours
Only for the fear of what they might find there
And because I couldn’t have explained all this then
In the flicker of a red light.


First published in Muse India, Jul-Aug 2014.


Powered By Blogger

FOLLOWERS

ARCHIVE

Blogger last spotted practising feminism, writing, editing, street theatre, aspirational activism.