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VOL. X ISSUE XII DECEMBER 2003

 


Inhumanity as bookends: more impressions from ten years
Dilip D'Souza

Beating around the bush
Jean Drčze

Hope in our hands
S Vivek

No lunch
Colin Gonsalves

The stranger in the kitchen
Dr Vandana Shiva

Learning to teach
Dr Madhav Chavan

We, the losers
Dr Jayaprakash Narayan


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Don’t need no pedestal

 We don’t need to deify women around us. Just treat them as humans


Here are two statements that I came across in print on the same day a couple of years ago. 
The first: Not only do we [Indians] respect women, we also worship them.
The second: [One factor] greatly responsible for the ferocity of India’s [AIDS] epidemic is the shamefully oppressed state of Indian women. The conditions of women in India are still amongst the worst of any society in the world, certainly far worse than in most African countries.
Now these assertions cannot both be true. Which do you think is false, or at least has less truth in it? While you decide that, I’ll tell you where I found them. The first is from an article by Pramod Navalkar, once minister for cultural affairs in the Shiv Sena/BJP coalition that ruled Maharashtra from 1995 to 1999. The article explained certain measures Navalkar put in place while he was minister. These are “curbs on obscenity” and “a check on the westernised hungama in theatres”, which he claims were a “misuse of the freedom of expression granted by the Constitution.”
“Selling the female body”, wrote once-minister Navalkar, “is not our culture.”
The second statement is from an alarming book: Siddharth Dube’s Sex, Lies and AIDS. Five million Indians, Dube wrote in 2000, were already infected with HIV, and two million had already died. By 2005, he estimated, there would be 40 million of us infected, with substantial concentrations of those in large cities like Bombay and Pune. How much is 40 million? Think about travelling at peak hour in one of Bombay’s suburban trains. In 2005, about 15 of those jammed into the compartment with you will be infected with HIV. (The compartment, not the whole train).
Dube says the HIV/AIDS epidemic is “India’s greatest health problem today, as well as a potent threat to our economic and development prospects.” He also thinks it is inevitable that the epidemic will spread to the “highest levels reached today in Africa: one in three adults.” That’s 200 million Indians. Think of what it means to know that every third man or woman you see around you in India is infected with HIV.
Now there are several reasons Dube lists for this frightening state we are in, for the more frightening prospect that’s ahead. One of those reasons is what he calls “the terribly low status of Indian women.” He discusses various indicators of this low status, which I will not get into here. You should read the book and see if it persuades you.
But what I couldn’t help doing then, and still do today, is marvel at the gap between Dube’s and Navalkar’s assertions. And in fact when I wrote an article about this two years ago, I was flooded with angry responses that echoed Navalkar. “Indians put women on a pedestal,” one wrote. “Is there any Western country that does that?”
I don’t know, nor do I particularly care. But of late, I’ve been thinking of Dube, Navalkar and women in India and the West. Partly, this is because of the experience of a young friend of mine. An architecture student in England, she’s in Bombay for a few months as an apprentice with a well-known city architect. Her first month was a series of ever more appalling incidents. Men hit on her nearly every day. Some sat, practically, on her in buses, shifting closer as she tried to edge away. On the street, other men propositioned and chased after her. A rickshaw driver actually reached back and tried to fondle her. A well-known model, married with a child, actually followed her in his car, got out and rode up in the lift with her to the landing outside her flat, leaving her alone only when he heard voices inside. On the Bandra seafront for a walk with a friend, she heard young women – her age, dressed like her – shouting “bitch!” at her.
I listen to these experiences with growing horror and impotent anger. I feel for her, of course. I also cannot help asking myself where that famous “worship” is.
The other reason I’ve been thinking about these issues is the recent news about India’s child sex ratio (CSR), defined as the number of Indian girls for every thousand boys (age zero to six). From 945 in 1991, India’s CSR has slid to 927 in 2001. That’s bad enough. But worse is that the steepest declines have come in prosperous areas like Punjab, Haryana, Himachal Pradesh, Gujarat and Navalkar’s own Bombay, some of which have fewer than 800 girls for every 1000 boys.
The simple reason for these dismal facts is also familiar: the strong Indian preference for sons, and what that preference makes too many Indians do.
A recent booklet released by Sushma Swaraj, Minister of Health, comments: “[O]ne of the significant contributors to the adverse child sex ratio in India is the practice of elimination of female foetuses.” It also quotes a mother saying: “The girl child is killed by putting a sand bag on her face or by throttling her ... It is not a rare phenomenon; it happens without any hindrance.”
So much for respect and worship.
One response to that article I mentioned I wrote came from a woman. “We women don’t want to be worshipped,” she wrote. “We don’t want to be on anyone’s pedestal. Just treat us like human beings, that’s enough.”
Words fit to be put on a pedestal themselves. Then again, maybe not.

Dilip D’Souza is a Mumbai-based writer.

 

  

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 by Dilip D'Souza

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