Not a Grain in His Stomach

Photo: Homeless International

“Why did you open the door?” “Why didn’t you just move on, being nearest doesn’t make you any more responsible than the other ...”. “It’s not your responsibility to get this man transferred to another hospital”. “This man can put you in trouble, you are asking for trouble.” “Why did you not let the hospital just discharge him and leave?” “You have received enough security tips, trainings and updates to know that you do not do this.” "If it means anything, I am proud of you."

These are some of the questions, advices and comments that I came across between Thursday and Friday, the last week. All those who questioned my action stand vindicated. The incident runs like this: on Thursday 22 July 2010, I left home in the morning to office. I usually leave earlier to avoid traffic but that day I was delayed and so had to fall in the long queue of cars that begin from Westlands going all the way from there to Peponi Road, Thigiri Ridge, Red Hill Road and finally connecting to the Limuru Road. Nairobi roads are long, mostly two-lane and this route is no different. During peak traffic, if you are in a lane, there is no way you would jump the lane; unless, you are a matatu driver who would get into ditches, drive on road barriers, etc to complete so many rounds everyday to get the payment and so is willing to risk own and passengers’ lives. So on this day, the row of traffic moved like a snail ... may be like a caterpillar ... yes, like a caterpillar, if somebody were to look at the two rows of traffic moving in opposite direction from the sky, the rows would have looked like two caterpillars.

I reached Thigiri Ridge and Red Hill Road T junction and was waiting for the traffic on the Red Hills road to stop so I and the cars in front of me coming through Thigiri Ridge could take the right turn. All of us had the indicator on the right of the cars, blinking like जुगनू (fire-flies) in the night. There was a long queue behind me too. I was looking around as I waited for the queue to move. I am afraid of driving but the not-so-bad orderliness of Nairobi city traffic encouraged me to drive. People are polite, honking is rare. Nairobians do not think so. According to them, the traffic on the roads is unruly and matatus are a nightmare and those rare honks, are noise pollution. If only they knew traffic in South Asia, in particular, my homeland, Bharat Varsham! When my gaze moved to the left side, I saw a man staggering up the road, he was some 5-6 feet away from my car. He was looking at me too, straight, unblinking. I saw he was holding a little packet of groundnuts in his left hand. His unblinking gaze, unnerved me a bit and I looked away. But suddenly I saw him near my car’s left passenger window looking sideways inside the car and within a few seconds, I saw his body slowly move backward and forward as if he is one with the wind, his left part of the body rubbing against my car door, and finally and going face down forward.

It took me a few seconds to react. I put the car lever to parking and leaned to open the left door and see what happened. This man lay parallel to my car, his left hand up stretching beyond the back left wheel of my car and the right sprawled in the 4-5 feet space between the left side of my car and the edge of the road. He had blood on his lips. I moved to the left passenger seat with half my body out of the car and shouted to the people in the cars ahead and behind me to come and help me take the man to a hospital. Some from the front and back looked towards me and soon looked away. I heard a shout, “Lady, don’t be foolish, get in and move”. Before I could think or react to this advice, there was a young man, holding my open door and asking me to come out. Soon there was a crowd of workers who generally use the mud footpath along the edge of the road and those who get off the matatus at the junction on the Red Hill Road. Some were telling me that I should pay and settle the case then and there, some asking me to take the man to the hospital, some to call the police . I asked the young man holding the door to leave the door and bring the man inside the car so that I could take him to the hospital but he wouldn’t let go the door. The crowd was swelling. Soon a short middle aged man joined the young man. They seemed to know each other as well as the man on the ground. I told the young man that if he doesn’t let go of the door I will call the police first. The short man reacted and told me not to talk of the police and take the man to the hospital. The young man listened and left the door. I closed the door while the two helped the man get on his feet and get inside the car.

Moving back to my seat, I noticed that the traffic on the Red Hill Road had stopped and the cars in the front had begun moving. The cars at the back also had begun looking for opportunity to pass my car. I opened the door on my side and asked the one immediately behind me to come forward but he and the other one behind him didn’t and moved away. In fact, the second one was visibly upset and raised both his hands in irritation before driving out of the lane and taking off. I looked at the third car and asked the person driving to please come forward. He asked me if I am all right and came forward. The fact that he responded while the others drove away, made me feel immediately grateful to him. I told him to call my office security and inform them that I will be at Aga Khan Hospital. By now, the man was seated at the back seat of the car with the young man and the short man who assisted him. The short man was accusing me of having hit him. The T junction where the Red Hill Road meets Limuru Road, I saw the traffic police person. I have been seeing him there regularly for a year and half now. I shouted asking him to come near. The short man was objecting and telling me that I am causing delay and that this is not a police job. The traffic police person came and as soon as he looked at the back seat he got into the front passenger seat. The short man at the back continued his tirade and at one point before the Muthaiga Mini market roundabout told me that the man has died. I almost panicked and sped fast but the traffic police person asked me to calm down, slow down and that the man is all right. I asked him to either get the short man out of the car or tell him to shut up. The short man didn’t need to be told, he was quiet now.

We reached the hospital and the man was assisted to walk into the emergency while I took the car to the parking. When I came back, a doctor and nurse were examining him and the traffic police person told me that the man has a catheter/needle unit that is used for administering intravenous fluids attached to his left arm. We heard the doctor and nurse ask for his name, age, and when he ate last. A few minutes later, the nurse came out and gave me his name and age asked me to go to the reception and register him. I did so and came back. Two security staff members of the organization where I work, joined the short man, the young man, the police person and me. We learnt one-another’s names – though I could never capture the name of the short man because of the way he spoke – and some more details about our lives while waiting for the doctor to finish and tell us what is wrong with the man.

A good while later the doctor came out and told us that the man says he was hit by a car but actually he is completely dehydrated, hasn’t eaten for the last two days and suffers from ulcers in his abdomen. After examining him, the doctor informed the man that he does have some tenderness on his left side whether it is from hitting the ground or the car, it cannot be said conclusively but he doesn’t have any bruise or anything else. The doctor said that she cannnot explain the blood coming from his mouth wihout putting him under some more check-up, which the man resisted. The man vomited a lot of blood while he was being examined. When further check-up was completed, the doctor and the nurse realized that he has a long pending illness, abdominal ulcer. They treated him for dehydration and gave him a painkiller to ease his stomach pain. About the ulcer, the man finally informed the doctor that he has been vomiting blood for a long time and was hospitalized in a place called Radiant Hospital in Eastleigh where his ulcer was being treated. Since he didn’t have the money to pay the hospital bills, he removed the IV fluids on his own and ran away from the hospital.

The man wanted to be paid some money and discharged. The doctor told him they cannot treat him there any further as a road accident case and that he needs longer term treatment for which they will transfer him back to the hospital where he was being treated till about a week back. The man was petrified. He pleaded to be discharged because if he goes to that hospital, they will ask him to pay up. He informed that his house-owner has thrown him out of the house because he hasn’t paid the rent for a few months now. He said he did not eat because he has no money to buy food. The doctors said that after discovering severity of his abdominal ulcer they cannot just discharge him unless he wants to be discharged against medical advice. The man wanted to be discharged.

I asked the doctor if it is possible that they refer him for further treatment elsewhere to a relatively cheaper place than a private hospital. The doctor suggested Kenyatta National Hospital which is subsidized. The man was not ready to go anywhere. I was told by the traffic the police that my responsibility ends here as the illness of the man has nothing to do with the incident but because the man says he was hit by my car, I will have to bring the car for inspection and we need to go back to the site for investigation. I couldn’t understand why the man would do this but his condition prevented me from thinking anything nasty about him. Rather it made me feel responsible to help him. The short man and young man were also now pleading with me to help the man and that if I leave him, he would die.

Together and with the doctor we argued with the man to come to Kenyatta Hospital. He was not ready. He only wanted the money and kept asking me to give him what I would spend on his treatment. I refused to give him money but told him that I will take him to the Kenyatta Hospital and help him with his treatment. His two friends – the young man and the short man – also told him to prioritize his health. They had heard the doctor telling him that if he doesn’t allow treatment, he can vomit himself to death and that if he falls again tomorrow he may not find somebody to bring him to a hospital. I asked the police person to come with me to the Kenyatta Hospital before we go for the inspection of the car and investigation at the site. The two security staff members from my organization left because they said they have official duties to attend to. The police person agreed and also informed that the Kenyatta Hospital is on the way. I took the transfer form from the doctor and we went to the Kenyatta Hospital.

At the registration desk in the Kenyatta Hospital, the man again insisted he was hit. He was registered as such and as he waited for a doctor to examine him, I went with the police person to get the car inspected. When we came back the man was already examined by the doctor and prescribed medicines for ulcer and advised about the kind of food he should eat. He was told that the medicines are strong so he has to follow the advice closely. I wondered why the doctor didn’t give a written advice and only prescribed the names of the medicines in writing. But looking around at a few hundred people waiting to be examined, I understood that writing is a luxury that the doctors working in this hospital cannot afford unless unavoidable. The man was looked better but tired. I bought his medicines on the ways and we got back to the site for investigation. The man accurately described the condition of his health, where he fell, that there was a jam, and where my car was at the time he collapsed but he again mentioned that he was hit. The police person asked him how could he be hit by the side of window and what was he doing near the car so far away from the edge of the road. The man informed that he came to the car window to sell his groundnuts to me and that he doesn’t mean any ill except that he wants some money. He was still hungry though the saline water given at the Aga Khan hospital made him look a bit better. We agreed that the statement recording will take place tomorrow. The short man wanted some money too saying he has spent his time helping this man instead of selling the newspapers. I felt torn. Indeed, the man needs money to buy some food and the friends are too poor to get him anything but I also felt that I would be doing something wrong by giving money. In the end, I gave the short man some money to buy food.

Next day, when we met at the police station the young man didn’t come. The statements were recorded with the man saying he was hit and then describing the rest of situation accurately and the short man saying he didn’t see what happened but he came near my car when he saw a crowd. He described the situation accurately too. The police person said that based on the man’s complaint, they have to give me a note about careless driving and the intention to initiate court proceedings. He explained that this is not to accuse me but to let me know that an accusation has been made and that further investigation will take place. He explained the process. I was frustrated but I signed and accepted the note.

If I looked frustrated, the man looked worried. He didn’t want an investigation. He had come with the notice that his house-owner had sent before throwing him out. I asked him that if he wants my help why he didn’t ask for help directly rather than using a false claim. He informed that nobody helps otherwise. I understood his insistence on the false claim; he is a hungry man with three dependents in the village and needs money, he doesn’t want to rely on goodness. The police person told him that nobody will help him in the future. When he realized that I would not give him any money, he said that he would withdraw his complaint because he doesn’t mean to put me in trouble but only wanted some money. He gave a statement to withdraw the complaint. He promised to take his medicines regularly with a reminder that he has no money to buy food and that he can keep his promise if he has something to eat. Again, I gave some money. It wouldn’t help him pay his overdue rent but may help him buy food for a month or so and he has full dose of medicines.

I am still not clear if I did the right thing or by helping him I played into his game of using his misery to extract money. But I feel all right about the fact that the money will help a person who is forced to sell eatables but cannot afford to put a grain in his stomach. At the same time, I cannot take away the annoyance I feel towards the man for getting me a note from the police.

On the first day of the incident, when I got back to office, a colleague told me that poor people sometimes play this trick on the road to get some money. She informed me about an incident when an impoverished person threw himself in front of a car. I was not surprised. I have seen the worst kind of abject poverty in India but the combination of poverty and segregation of the rich and the poor that I have seen in Nairobi, I hadn’t seen anywhere else before. Kenya is the most unequal country in Eastern Africa compared to neighbouring Rwanda, Uganda, Tanzania and Burundi. In the Kenya, the richest 20% take 61% of rural and 51% of urban incomes. 60% of Nairobians live in slums. The bottom 20% of the country’s rural population get only 3.5% of rural income. The bottom 20% in the country’s urban areas get 5.4% of urban income. These disparities have widened since 1982 and the implementation of IMF structural adjustment programmes in the 1980s. More than 50% of Kenya's poor live on less than 1 dollar a day. The child mortality is high with 1 in 10 children dying before the age of 5 years. It is said that the AIDS patients occupy 50% of all hospital beds. More than 25% population is illiterate. Check the links at the bottom for more details on poverty and inequality in Kenya.

The incident that I described earlier and the figures given above point out that Kenya cannot be necessarily described as a poverty ridden country. Rather it is an inequality ridden country. This inequality renders majority of its population poor and prevents them from being able to afford basic service needed for a living. The man I encountered, has completed education up to ‘O’ level, is very well aware about the issues in the country and the world but his inequality induced poverty makes it impossible for him to access higher education, health, and housing. In fact, it is pushing him towards what would be termed as a criminal behavior. The short man, as a result of being an ‘inequality refugee’, does not even have political and citizenship rights because he doesn’t have the national identity card. He, therefore, would not be able to vote on the 4th of August 2010, when the country votes in a referendum on the proposed constitution.

Given that the current constitution of Kenya does not even grant equal civil and political rights to women citizens, one can only imagine the plight of poor women in this country. The political growth of the country has not only favoured the rich but has further marginalized the poor in particular women from the political gains. Public policy remains highly influenced by the churches and traditional power structures which were strengthened during the period of colonization. The public policy and practice of patrimonial inheritance of property has also made the entire state machinery patrimonial. It allows progeny of those who made their money historically and established themselves further when Kenya was a colony to inherit the patriarchal booty. Women were never given inheritance rights by the Kenyan society. Women have not been a part of the scheme in which one could gain economic rewards by showing political loyalty so they remain excluded from the economic right, representation and decision-making. Since politics of the country has encouraged loyalty based economic rewards, which in the current times, are not easy to obtain from the public exchequer directly, it is given under-the-table in the form of corrupt payments or the tolerance for money-making at the cost of public good and social services. This detouring of the funds to people who have not earned it also contributes to inequality. It creates and sustains a system in which only those who can make the under-the-table payments can receive benefits or grow further. Those who are already victims of inequality, like, men from marginalized communities and women who are denied equal economic rights, do not have the ability to pay for their way into the system. They have no choice but be victims twice, ie, once a victim of inequality induced poverty, and second, victim of corruption.

Loyalty based politics has been promoting also a system of patronage in which those who are already powerful get favoured over the weak because of their ability to serve the rulers' interests better. Illicit profit-making is another pillar on which the system of patronage rests, ie, in addition to loyalty, patrons also like to receive value for money from the persons they patronize. Poor definitely are not in a position to optimize the profits for a patron even if they were to be patronized. The system of patronage ensures that the weak, including women, are not able to access the opportunities. This is a serious impediment to the exercise of equal opportunities and to the capability to benefit from an apparently well laid out system of governance.

The second pillar of patronage, ie, illicit profit-making, also has negative consequences for the regional development within Kenya. Inequality caused by the system of patrimonial inheritance is more severe in areas which are resource rich because resources like forest and fertile land are concentrated in a few hands. The patrimonial state prefers to invest in regions which are likely to bring greater returns over the regions where investment may benefit the people in terms of their survival but would not contribute to a much faster growth rate. As a result, increasing the inequality among the citizens on the basis of their location. The situation further deteriorated in 1980s when structural adjustment was pushed by the IMF. The country has not given a thought to developing diverse opportunities to address economic inequality rather continues to focus on comparable opportunities. Creation of comparable opportunities in a country with geographical diversity like Kenya is only going to leave the regions which do not have comparable resource base and geo-conditions further behind. This sort of regional disparity cannot be blamed on to nature or geography because it is possible to resolve it with good economic development policy and investment in citizens across the country.

Kenya, like many other countries, which have undergone structural adjustment, needs to revert the trend of inequality by recognizing that basic needs such as education, health, food and nutrition, representation and participation have to be assured to all who live within its geo-political boundary, irrespective of their sex, gender, religion, region, origin, ethnicity, etc. It has to recognize that certain groups of people, based on one or the other ground, have been disadvantaged for centuries. If they are not supported through affirmative action they would not be able to participate effectively in the development processes because generations of disadvantage cannot be wiped off by creating equal opportunities on paper. They would need supportive systems to make them stand for their development.

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Check the following links for further details on poverty and inequality in Kenya: http://allafrica.com/stories/201004210994.html; http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/10540379; http://www.crise.ox.ac.uk/copy/Kenya%20note%20for%20discussion.pdf;  http://www.tegemeo.org/documents/work/Tegemeo-WP30-Rural-incomes-inequality-poverty-dynamics-Kenya.pdf; http://www.pambazuka.org/en/category/rights/52279; http://www.unrisd.org/unrisd/website/projects.nsf/(httpAuxPages)/74EFE206D5C7E1FDC12573D3004D9D2E?OpenDocument&category=Case+Studies.

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Ah la la ho Over Abortion

The ongoing debate on abortion in Kenya ... I wonder when will the 'Holy See' and their side-kicks and cronies will accept that only a few in the world give two hoots to children thrown in the garbage dumps, streets, abused and starved in homes and schools. Instead of caring for the alive but miserable in this world, they are driving the whole world to go ah la la ho over the unborn. This reminds me of a Buddhist श्लोक (verse):

In the great self existing mandal (a concentric structure) of dharmadhatu (spiritual metal)

where all phenomena reside free from cause and conditions.

Everywhere I look for the self called me (in the light of the abortion debate, I read ‘me’ as women),

it is nowhere to be found.

This life force (I take it as the foetus) is but a brief flicker

like a June bug in the night.

Happy is the yogin (the female knowledge-self who practices contemplation) who clasps the jewel of radiant

Bodhicitta (the aware/enlightened self) unbounded and self-perfected

Now, this interpretation of the श्लोक (verse) is far and away from the implied meaning, but this is what most often the interpretations do - they allow to interpret from the vantage point of the person interpreting (and that's how either distortions/retrogressive or progressive understandings emerge over a period)! In the second last sentence of this note, I have given a link to an interesting paper, which is not about morality or legality of abortion, but on a much narrow issue that when pregnant woman needs a treatment that would harm the foetus in her womb, should she be denied the treatment, or the foetus be put under threat that may affect it if born or find ways to abort the foetus safely. The paper goes on to say that the foetuses have legitimate interests, rather than rights, and a sick pregnant woman has the rights over her body and a right to health. So when there are competing interests, the rights of the woman to decide on her medical treatment, to give consent and her health should prevail. When you have opened the link, click on One-Click Download button on the top to download the paper: "Ethical and legal issues in reproductive health: Ethical and legal approaches to ‘the fetal patient’". It is worth a read!

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Press Release: INDIA - GROUNDBREAKING COURT CASES ON MATERNAL MORTALITY

04/06/2010

In a historic decision the Delhi High Court ordered compensation for violation of constitutional and reproductive rights of two impoverished women. The judgment will have immense health policy implications in India, where a maternal death occurs every five minutes.

In the case of Laxmi Mandal vs Deen Dayal Hari Nager Hospital & Ors W.P. 8853/2008 Justice Muralidhar instructed the State of Haryana, to pay compensation of Rs 2.4 lakhs to the family of Shanti Devi who passed away during childbirth on 20 January this year. The Court found the Respondents in violation of Shanti Devi's right to life and health, reiterating that her death was preventable.

In the case of Jaitun v Maternity Home, MCD, Jangpura & Ors W.P. No.10700/2009 High Court directed the Municipal Corporation of Delhi and Government of National Capital Territory of Delhi to pay Rs 50,000  compensation to Fatima for the violation of her fundamental rights by being compelled to give birth to her daughter Alisha under a tree, on account of the denial of basic medical services.

"These petitions are essentially about the protection and enforcement of the basic, fundamental and human right to life under Article 21 of the Constitution. These petitions focus on two inalienable survival rights that form part of the right to life: the right to health (which would include the right to access and receive a minimum standard of treatment and care in public health facilities) and in particular the reproductive rights of the mother. The other right which calls for immediate protection and enforcement in the context of the poor is the right to food".

The Court underlined that the cases demonstrated a complete failure of the public health system and a failure in implementation of Government Schemes, including the National Maternity Benefit Scheme (NMBS), Integrated Child Development Scheme (ICDS) and Janani Soraksha Yojana (JSY) - a scheme designed to reduce maternal and neo-natal mortality by encouraging institutional delivery for poor pregnant women. The judgment further directed the Respondents to ensure that the payment of Rs 500, eight to twelve weeks prior to delivery to all Below Poverty Line (BPL) pregnant women to ensure their proper nutrition under the NMBS, be ensured as per Supreme Court Order in PUCL v UOI 196/2001, irrespective of age and number of previous births in all states in India.

"Both the cases point to the complete failure of the implementation of the schemes. With the women not receiving attention and care in the critical weeks preceding the expected dates of delivery, they were deprived of accessing minimum health care at either homes or at the public health institutions (.) It points to the failure of the referral system where a poor person who is sent to a private hospital cannot be assured of quality and timely health services."

Drawing on international law Justice Muralidhar underlined that women have the right to control their body and decide when they wish to conceive. The Court also pointed out that women carry the burden of poverty in that they have to prove their BPL status when trying to access health facilities and accordingly ordered that "no pregnant women be denied access to medical treatment regardless of her social economical status".

"There is no assurance of "portability" of the schemes across the states. In the present case, Shanti Devi traveled from Bihar to Haryana and then to Delhi. In Haryana she was clearly unable to access the public health services. At Delhi she had to once again show that she had a BPL card, and on being unable to do so, she was denied access to medical facilities. For the migrant workers this can pose a serious problem. Instructions will have to be issued to ensure that if a person is declared BPL in any state of the country and is

availing of the public health services in any part of the country, such person should be assured of continued availability of such access to public health care services wherever such person moves."

"It may be difficult to quantify the actual loss suffered by either family as a result of the failure by the State Government to deliver the benefits under the schemes to each of these women during their pregnancies. What is clear in Shanti Devi's case is that the maternal mortality was clearly avoidable".

"In the case of Fatema soon after the baby was delivered, she required nutrition and supplements which were denied till the Court's intervention. Even the ICDS benefits were given only after the Court's intervention. It is well possible that but for the Court's intervention, the baby and the mother may have been deprived of the benefits which would have caused irreparable injury and possibly loss of life".

"It was not denied by learned counsel appearing for the Government of Haryana, the GNCTD as well as the Central Government that as of now there is no inbuilt component for reparations under the schemes. Given that the budget outlay of the schemes is in several hundreds of crores, it is indeed surprising that there is no inbuilt component for reparations"

The maternal mortality ratio (number of women dying per 100,000 live births) in India is higher than in 120 countries, including neighboring states of Bangladesh, China, Nepal and Sri Lanka. More than 117,000 women and girls die each year in India from largely preventable pregnancy- related causes.

This is the highest number of maternal deaths in any country world-wide, which accounts for almost 25% of the global maternal death burden.

For Full High Court judgment or further details, contact:

Human Rights Law Network, Reproductive Rights Unit, Mob: 09717701604, kasztelan.marta@gmail.com

DISCUSSION:  Women's right to obstetric care (or pre and post natal care) presupposes a government's responsibility to provide quality reproductive health care and prevent early marriage/early pregnancy. In real terms this would mean putting the public ex-chequer's money where the mouth is. In other words, strengthening policy and its implementation; lending political support to maternal health and ending the practice of early marriage; recognizing women right over their bodies and sexuality and educating girls and boys about their bodies, sexual health and reproductive rights; and integrating a rights based perspective in health service delivery and thereby improving women and girls' right and access to sexual and reproductive health services.

QUESTION: Given the socio-cultural environment in India and the prevalence of non-inclusive and non-participatory planning and implementation of development initiatives/services by the governments, how they as well as the private health service providers, can be pushed to meet the responsibility for reducing maternal

deaths and demonstrating their accountability to women and girls?

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Contest

Ripped apart, cut and chewed

A political consequence of her actions

Spit through filthy mouths

She gathers herself

She contests, hesitantly

Examining her position in his world

She knows she must bear through

The problematic dichotomies

And live in the structures of servitude

While speaking to break free



But …

Attempts to contain emotions break down at points

Threatening ceilings of strength

Turmoil of dichotomies replaced by the resurgence of vengeance

Mapping implications of this or that is not a choice

Her politics of dichotomies must go on

She recognizes

The choice is between void and existence

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Volatile

Fire within

Engages in a mute debate

I am glowing

With ash on my body

I am speaking

With deaf chaos around me



Glitter of sugar crystals

Nails my tongue

A glimmer of hope

Pierces my eyes

Fresh air

Leaves me breathless

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Going Through Death to Give Birth

Yet a large number of societies and parents continue the practice of early marriage for several reasons including blind faith in culture or religion, hopes of financial and social gains, relieving their own responsibilities towards the child based on her gender and so on. In my view, the continuation of the practice is rooted in social acceptance of slavery of women. Internalization of servility and acceptance of the correctness of the practice is more likely to be successful if women are tamed early, as early as possible. Girl children and young adult women are easy to terrorize and therefore easier to be kept under control and by the time they could be expected to have developed some courage to protest, they are likely to be pregnant and socially isolated as a result of lacks of education and interaction with their peer groups. They are forced to accept their condition as their destiny. Many states and their governments, despite being signatories to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination against Women, and the Convention on the Rights of the Child, continue to turn a blind eye to the practice.

This is a brief introduction of a longer article first published by the Yemen Times: http://www.yementimes.com/defaultdet.aspx?SUB_ID=22147 and re-published at http://bellbajao.org/2010/05/04/going-through-death-to-give-birth/. Please follow either of the links for the full article.

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Ill/Active

At Dubai airport, at Gate 209 waiting for the Flight EK 719. I try to think, my mind is clogged with the feeling that I don’t like this airport. Any thought would be better than this. In front of me, a Kenyan man of Somali origin finishes a conversation in Af Soomaali at the public phone and walks away. I try to think of his Kenyan passport which he was holding in the same hand that held the phone and circumstances that may have brought him to Kenya. Suddenly, a man with Bihari accent is screaming … well, almost,‘who leave money and card here?’. I look around but can’t see the Kenyan passport holder. He disappeared fast. I thought of volunteering the information about the direction that the Kenyan passport holder went in but my attention is caught by the Japanese man sitting next to me who is talking rapidly with his spouse sitting next to him. She nods and nudges him. He says something in Japanese but in a low voice, perhaps informing the man with Bihari  accent about the Kenyan passport holder. The man with Bihari accent can’t understand and asks, ‘your card, your card?’. The Japanese man and his spouse shake heads vigorously and gesture towards the direction that the Kenyan passport holder took. The man with Bihari accent tries to follow their gestures but fails, waits for a while looking around and then picks up the money counts it, more than 40 US dollars; lifts and looks closely at the card, it is a debit card. He is holding the money and the card gingerly at the end of a stretched arm as if bringing the money closer to his body will pollute him … may be he is afraid that he would be beaten up. He walks away holding the money and the debit card like that. A whiff of talcum perfume mixed with body odour hits me. My stomach reels back & I feel nauseated. A couple dressed in heavy clothing of all kinds, the carriers of this smell, occupy the seats next to me. I look back and find the man with Bihari accent entering a room with police sign next to the door. He is still walking with stretched arms with the money and the debit card dangling from his fingers. I can’t bear nausea any more, I run to toilet next to the Gate. All sinks are occupied. I look into two empty toilets, both add to nausea. I look desperately at the Philippina cleaner. She smiles, ask, ‘you want …’ she gestures the Indian type toilet seat with both her hands. ‘Uhhh … no’, I say looking at the sinks which are still occupied and then I take a refill pack of toilet sanitizer, a toilet roll and broom from her large trolley of cleaning supplies and enter one of the toilets. She runs after me but I have locked the door from inside. Nausea has filled me, I can’t speak. I tie my sweater around my face and clear up the mess fast. But I am unable to throw up; my mind doesn’t like that my hands are dirty from holding the broom and cleaning the toilet seat with toilet paper wet with sanitizer. I come out to find the Philippina cleaner standing in the way with anger in her face. She looks inside the toilet and the expression changes to confusion. I walk to one of the sinks, which is empty now and throw up. The Philippina cleaner is staring and others are looking at me with not at all pleasant expressions. I clean up and walk out to look for a place far from the perfumed couple. I find none and decide to walk around. The Philippina cleaner is walking next to me, ‘you ok’, she asks first and then adds, ‘baby?’ My mind is now occupied with dread of another kind - what if the perfumed couple sits next to me in the aircraft. I think she is asking if I have a child. I say, ‘one child … big’ and gesture a height taller than me. She looks confused. I say thank you to her for her concern and walk in another direction and realise that she was wondering if I am pregnant! I frown but it fades away fast. I see a vacant seat near the Gate 210. I take it and start thinking about illness and people’s perception, my own perception.

Two and a half weeks back I was hospitalised – my first real stay in a hospital. I had taken myself to the hospital after looking at myself in the mirror several times. I looked fine, no sign of illness. But the sense that ‘I am dipping down’ persisted and convinced me to call the hospital. I asked for an early appointment. The doctor’s assistant gave me an appointment for the next day. I asked to make it earliest possible. She asked me why and if it is so urgent why don’t I go to the emergency. I was in the emergency with a colleague two weeks back to take care of another colleague who was medically evacuated from a neighbouring country. The amount of paper work and the time it took there was scary. So I said I do not wish to go to the emergency. She gave me an appointment four hours later and asked me a few questions about symptoms. I told her. Ten to fifteen minutes later, there was a call from her asking if I can come earlier. I was glad and walked towards the office exit gate. The 5-10 minutes walk which I always enjoyed was painful and the wait for the taxi at the gate frustrating. My body was telling me to let it succumb; somebody will pick it and take it to the hospital. My mind told me not to be a public nuisance and not to trust a crowd to take care of my body. I listened, waited, got a taxi and took myself to the hospital. I was examined and told about a number of tests that need to be done. I was already feeling better. I asked the doctor if all that would be over today. He smiled and said no. ‘I intend to keep you here for a few days’, he said. ‘How many days’, I asked. ‘I can tell you only after I have seen all the test results’, he replied. ‘But I am feeling better’, I protested. ‘When were you admitted last in a hospital’ he asked. ‘When I was born’, I replied and further said, ‘I can come to the hospital on a daily basis’. He told me that my mind is controlling my body so I am feeling better. He asked if I drank water, I didn’t remember but I told him about tea and coffee I had that day. Dehydration is not a good things, I know.

I was admitted and another doctor, a nurse and an attendant tried hard to prick my veins to administer some intravenous fluid and injection. ‘You have thin veins, very difficult to prick’, said the doctor. She was cheerful and kept asking questions. My mind said that she is just trying to keep me talking to distract me as she pricks my veins. I looked carefully at my veins; they collapsed each time one was pricked. A few attempts and they finally manage to get one syringe needle inside my vein. They looked jubilant and the nurse told me that they are going to water me well so the veins can be regenerated. The attendant asked if I didn’t feel the pain. ‘I did but I want to be out of this place fast so I better let you do what you have to do’, I replied. They all laughed. ‘Good attitude, you will get well fast’, the nurse said. They hung three different size bottles to a stand and explained something about IV fluid, the flow regulator extension set and how it regulate the flow of IV fluid from IV infusion set into the IV catheter and what they are going to do next. Nothing registered in my brain and I told myself to calm down and let them do their work unhindered. For a while that was okay but suddenly I found them examining me further and my body cringed. I told myself to relax and I did ease a bit but the male attendant had noticed my unease and moved a little backwards. My body screamed at him, ‘you can’t become invisible just by moving a bit backwards’. I didn’t realise that I have actually said it aloud but to my own relief I said it smilingly and gently. They all laughed again. I was comfortable by then and watched impassively as they attached a few more things to my body. The doctor who examined me first walked in and after greeting me talked to the doctor who was doing things on my body and then to me. It was casual conversation about family and work. But I was not distracted because I found him looking at my body carefully. I didn’t like it at all and I was about to say that I don’t want a male doctor groping me either with his eyes or hands when the mind interjected and quietened me. He checked every insert and attachment and told me that he is going to fix me and asked me to be enduring. He told me about my body’s ailment and that I must have ignored the symptoms for a long time. I protested saying that I never felt any symptom before. He didn’t quiet believe me. He asked if I would prefer a drug to help me sleep. I said no and he said that is all right. He continued his chatter for some more time and then left. The nurse stayed on to hear me muttering, ‘I shall endure, holy man’. She asked if I believe in the God. I asked her what she thinks to which she replied that I look like someone who doesn’t. We laughed and she said that she will pray for me tonight and hopes that I wouldn’t mind. I told her to be a bit more charitable and pray for the God to prevail on the doctor to let me out of this place fast. She winked and said that she will.

By now, it was already late in the evening and my food arrived. I was hungry, very hungry. The food looked good. But I could feel the coolness of fluid in my veins better than the taste of the food. My mind kept going back to poking and peering into my body. I tried not to think about it but the aftertaste of poking and peering was worse than the time I was being poked and peered at. I felt resentment about being alone, angry with my body for not giving me any symptoms that would have saved me from poking, peering and inserts. ‘I do not like to be examined by a man’, my body kept shouting. It’s my body’s view which is not just hidden-from-public-knowledge but also rejected by my mind, ‘what difference does it make who examines the body, it’s just a piece of meat and bones for the doctor’, it retorted. An intimate exchange between the body’s account of bad feeling about being touched by a strange man and the mind’s rationale about the idiocy of such thinking went on. In between, a colleague had visited, the hospital pantry staff had removed the food tray and a nurse changed the fluid connections. All this while, the exchange between the body and the mind continued uninterrupted. Except for a short while, in between, when I remembered that my younger brother told me that some of his wedding rituals would begin today. I called up my would-be sister-in-law and spoke with her. My would-be sister-in-law was getting ready to receive the baaraat when I called her so when my brother didn’t pick up his phone I thought he must be in the middle of baaraati band-baazaa so he can’t hear me. For a while my thoughts lingered on our growing up years till the body and the mind exchange took over again. Around the middle of the night, a nurse came and asked if I would like to have a sleeping pill. She informed that the doctor has prescribed it but asked her to give it to me only if I want it. She informed me apologetically that she would have to come in several times in the nights to change fluids and so on and it would be good if I take the pill and allow my body to rest. I told her that I am fine and feel rested. I was really not feeling tired.

Towards the morning, the exchange between the body and mind had taken an interesting new direction. My mind had convinced the body that I must have resisted and ignored symptoms and allowed the illness to build the blocks to take over the body so in a way my body has not fallen ill but is actually a creator of the illness. My mind screamed at the body, ‘you are responsible for being volatile and have put yourself in this unpredictable condition’. My body was not happy so it digressed and moved away from the mind. It was still resentful but it could not annoy the mind. After all, the mind is needed to watch over the body. Now both the body and the mind were weaving together incidents and events of the last few years in my life, examining them critically, raw analysis and depiction of life from a perspective that told me how I have wasted myself – how I have allowed the material matters to take over ideal spaces in life; how I chose to feel content when I haven’t been content and how the denial of discontent has constrained the space in which I configure my life and my ideals.

With the body and mind now acting as one, I condemned myself for choosing to lead an ambiguous life where I have learnt to ignore things that bother me. Their thinking disrupted the sense of stability that I thought I had. I was now looking at the onset of factors that may have been stronger than the symptoms of illness and so blocking them out. I was into a diagnosis and discursive exploration of my recent life and I was naming and taking-on responsibility for many things that I chose to ignore or tried to live with. ‘What a hypocrite, accepting things you wouldn’t accept earlier, living with things you wouldn’t tolerate in the past or in the public’, I yelled at myself. Thankfully, my youngest sister or the elder sister-in-law called up to give me an update of the wedding. It was a much needed break from the involuntary mental work. But not for long. I would have liked some more distraction.

I preferred the exchange between the body and the mind than this leapfrogging forwards and backwards in my life. At least, it kept the attention away from myself, albeit, in a strange way. The body and the mind are part of my self but when they were exchanging arguments, I could hear them detached, as if I were another being hearing conversation between two other people. This pact between the body and the mind continued to corner me as I went through various examinations and talking to the colleagues who visited me the following day. May be it showed on my face because when the nurse came in to change the fluid connections, the previous day’s insert came off and I started bleeding but I didn’t notice anything. The nurse nudged and asked me to give my thoughts a little break and keep the vein pressed while she fetches a new syringe to prick me. I put my finger on the vein and continued with my thoughts. Pricking was not working and the nurse remarked that even my veins have a mind of their own. She called a doctor who finally managed to get one right prick and I was back on the drip of one or another kind. The IV insert kept coming off each day and each day I would be pricked a few times with some remarks, all interesting. Each time, a vein was pricked I could see it receding. May be the nurse was right that the veins have a mind of their own. The pricking process became an amusing interruption to my self-engrossed thinking process.

On the second evening, the doctor decided that I must have the sleeping pill after asking me for some information about the allergies. I took the pill and felt terrible pain in my chest and upper back and had difficulty gulping down water. Half an hour later the pain was gone but I was wide awake. The nurse was not happy that I didn’t call her when I felt the pain saying the pain must be a reaction to the drug and remarked that I have willed myself out of sleep. I informed her that I had taken sleeping pills in the past and it never worked on me but when she persisted to find out which drug which I didn’t remember but she wouldn’t believe I asked her if patients think of death when they are hospitalised. She told me that most do even when they are admitted for small little things. She assured me that I am fine and I told her that I must make a will to ensure my daughter is taken care if I am gone and to ensure that whatever I have goes towards things I would like to contribute to. The illness was redefining and reshaping my thinking about my recent life materially and discursively.

The body and the mind’s joint analysis continued the following day and the days after. I thought of my life and creation of my identity as a one-word-name-woman and laughed at the bewilderment that I come across whenever somebody of an urban background hears that I have one word name. I thought of the tiny frame that makes my body and tried to trace factors that have made this frame jump with joy or wince with repulsion and revolt. On the third evening the doctor prescribed an injection to help me go to sleep. I refused when the nurse came with the injection. I told her that I do not wish to be injected and said it so forcefully that she agreed immediately that it is not a good idea to have the injection. We agreed that I would tell the doctor the next morning that he must stop this business of trying to ‘put me to sleep’ and then we laughed about the term ‘put to sleep’. But I noticed that she took extra care to draw the curtains neatly, switched of all the lights, put a cover on the glass in the door from where the light from the passage filtered inside and tip-toed more deliberately each time she walked in and out of the room. I wasn’t feeling tired even now.

By now results of various tests were out and the medical actions based on the results were being taken. By now I was also comfortable with my self-dialogue about how I have engaged and negotiated my emotional, physical and social environment and its boundaries. Finally, on the fourth evening, I informed my youngest sister that I am hospitalised and when she and others called up late in the night, I told them to relax and let me go to sleep. I slept as soundly as I could with a nurse walking in and out. The nurse was pleased and the doctor visibly relieved. The body and the mind offensive about the need to rethink my well-being and remake my life didn’t feel as harsh anymore and was gradually beginning to follow the day and night cycle.

It is rather strange that it took a hospital to instigate the process of naming, redefining, and reconfiguring and bring out the need of reconnecting and remaking my social relations. The ambiguities, the losses, frustrations and resistance stand better understood and attempts at sense-making more real even though I fail to understand how the body and the mind felt so separate from my self.

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Regulation of Disabled Women’s Sexuality

Regulation of Disabled Women’s Sexuality

In general, women’s voices for their specific rights in the disability rights movement in India are hardly present. Voices of disabled women is almost absent in the mainstream women’s rights movement.

The politics of ‘normal’ or ‘able’ bodies and minds is further complicates disabled women’s identity. Societal norms with regard to the ‘ideal’ womanhood and the ‘ideal body’ render physically disabled and mentally challenged women invisible. They become objects to be hidden, never to be seen, heard or felt.

Since feminism is a politics of the oppressed against being pushed to the margins, disability, in my view, is a feminist issue. As an oppressed group, disabled women and men face challenges related to educational and training opportunity, inclusion, occupational attainment, economic status, and social outlets. But disabled women face particular issues of reproductive rights; control over their bodies; physical, sexual and emotional violence; and sexual rights and representations, which are considered taboo topics by the disability movement.

It is important, therefore, that feminisms in India change towards inclusiveness and support the disabled women in rejecting the traditional subservient and invisible role. There is a need for a new emancipatory politics for the disabled women, which is led by the disabled women from the centre of the Indian women’s movement.

The full article is posted at: http://bellbajao.org/legal-take/regulation-of-disabled-women%e2%80%99s-sexuality/

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Sexual Frivolousness and Innuendos: Freedom of Speech or Peddling Insensitivity in the Name of Humour of One Kind or Another?

I must admit that this blog is instigated by what I have been hearing recently, comments such as ‘It is too difficult to open my mouth front of you’, ‘I’m scared to speak in front of you’, and then the last night I read a frivolous insinuation/references to bestiality and drunken orgy. It angers me, fills me with disgust and tells me something about the person. For a while, it makes me doubt the people I associate with, work with or share my life with. All the more when it comes from people who are development workers or who speak of rights.


I have often heard people recounting second or third person account of trauma of rape or child sexual abuse that another person they know, has gone through. The retelling usually has the reteller in a saviour or compassionate role, somebody who lent support or is lending understanding and support. And the next thing I come across is completely casual or frivolous conversation replete with sexual desperation, titillation and filled with sexual innuendos. Such comments or way of communicating are meant to be about harmless fun, genuine humour, about making light of ??? and being able to talk in a relaxed manner.

Let me say that, in my view, sexual insinuation or jokes and communication filled with sexual similes are not funny. They are outright offensive and insensitive, to say the least. Do these people realize that when they are retelling another’s trauma, they are robbing that person’s right to tell her own story and tell it to the people she would like to tell and not some random individual or group? I think not. Do they realize that they may be triggering trauma to survivors of sexual violence? I think not. And when they talk in a sexually insinuating manner, do they realize that they are reinforcing insensitive stereotypes, myths, sexual perversion and indulging in cheap titillation. I think not; as I hear, it comes under the ‘freedom of speech’ and being able to be themselves. Being themselves, yes definitely, they are being themselves.

Do I object because I feel that nobody has a right to make light of or a casual conversation out of somebody else’s trauma? Yes, it is one of the reasons. Nobody has a right to expose somebody else's life and identity and put himself/herself in a do-gooder position by recounting something in second or third person. I do feel that the freedom of speech is being abused when language becomes the vehicle of transporting stereotypes and of sustaining perversion. I feel that nobody has a right to joke about sexual abuse when they no idea of what it means to be abused sexually.

I have been told that women of my kind are hyper sensitive about sexual jokes and innuendos. Yes, I am and I know so many others who are, even when they do not say it. Such language or communication is uncomfortable even when they appear funny to the person talking. For anybody with access to information sources, it is impossible not to be aware that vast numbers of women and children across the world are sexually abused and kept in sexual slavery. So why is it so hard for them to understand that they might be triggering further trauma or trying to make light of a widely prevalent form of human rights violation? And if they can’t mind their thinking and language, and reform their way of thinking and behaving for the sake of protection of women’s and children’s right to be free from sexual violence, what sort of belief do they have in human rights?! Just simple thinking of how they feel when they come across ‘making light’ of a behaviour that they had to face. If they do so, even if sexual abuse may not be something experienced by them, they can, at least, imagine how it would feel, because they would know how a similar behaviour when directed at them, feels to them.

Many women do not react to such sexualised communication and children fall in the no-right-to-speak zone. They may take it as a given way of talking and communicating but does that take away the need to change this way of thinking and talking? No, it doesn’t. A form of abuse or perpetuation of an environment that sustains abuse should not continue because the world is quiet about it or there isn’t enough ‘mainstream noise’ about it. One abuse is too many and calls for reform.

Sexual jokes and innuendos, whether coming from women or men, are not about things that are only matters of pleasure, they are not only about things that happens out there, somewhere unaffected by our own beliefs and conduct, to people who don’t really mind this kind of communication or are a good-sport-to-take-it-in-a-good-spirit (as I have heard sometimes). Sexual jokes and innuendos reveal the speaker, they are about me and many women and children around me who have seen sexual abuse day in and out, in public and private, and they are about how much violated and angry we feel about it. As a woman who has grown up being pawed in public transport and streets, ignoring sexual gestures from fellow commuters and others, dealing with the abuse faced by self and working with those who faced such abuse, I do not believe that sexual frivolousness or innuendos are about individual liberties or the freedom of speech.

I can’t even remember how often I have ignored such communication, often in public life and sometimes in personal realm. And I hate myself when I keep quiet. I feel my tiredness is letting me down, that I am being a person of acute double standards. And sometimes, this builds up and I jump with such revolt and anger that later I feel that I should have given the benefit of doubt to the offensive person, that s/he didn’t really mean to be a pervert or promiscuous. I feel that I could have tried explaining to the person that the joke/innuendos/behaviour was not funny. But experience also tells me that not all are willing to think that their way of thinking and the absolutist sense of their right to act and talk the way they want, makes them feel that it is an infringement of their individual freedom. Sometimes their resentment is quite obvious.

I just don’t understand how sexual frivolousness and insinuations can even qualify as humour or fun. Something that can violate a relationship of trust, care and protection or violate the bodily and mental integrity of another person, even in my wildest imagination, cannot count as wit. Crash crudeness, may be.

I wish, sincerely, that people would see this as an issue, first, of being aware of the abusive dimensions and sensitivity that awareness calls for, and second, of questioning that why jokes and titillation are usually at the cost of those who are socio-politically weak or rendered silent by the social structures. Why something that is atrocity and violence against some, can be normalised as a spicy way of talking?

Awareness means going beyond reading about abuse and meeting people who were abused. It is about understanding the extent to which their way of communication may contribute to the prevalence of an environment of abuse and in normalizing such behaviour and communication. They need to slap themselves hard in their brains, each time it tells them to behave or talk in a certain way that is offensive. Otherwise they would never see that they are part of the patriarchal pack; it would not cross their mind that their way of behaving or talking may be the norm but not necessarily right. Oversights and lapses are not meant to be reoccurring and if they tend to be, they reveal that the person is either abusive even when not accepting it or that the person prefers to keep clouded vision because they actually derive pleasure despite knowing that they are causing harm.

When people can make an effort to gain knowledge about how, for example, trade systems can aggravate poverty; I do not understand why they do not try to understand that their sexually frivolous behaviour and innuendos reinforce the patriarchal claim over women and children’s bodies? How is it possible that the people who study, decipher and advocate theories of poverty, development and change, peace and conflict, fail to see that the established norms of ‘personal’ or social behaviour and communication legitimize the option of not thinking, not understanding and not seeing the effects of their sexually insinuating behaviour and communication; that it gives them a choice not to change. Women and men, who behave or talk in this manner, may not be against women’s or children’s rights but they need to see the connection between their intentions and consequent actions.

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Elections & Votes … Are These All to Democracy?

Elections are commonly viewed as the key element of democracy. In deed, they are but they are one of the key elements. When democracy is understood in terms of democratic representation, it is easier to understand that it entails a far more complex process that extends well beyond elections. Citizens participate in governance through a multiplicity of activities - among them interaction with their chosen representative, and getting their chosen representatives and others influenced through participation in voluntary associations, social movements, interest groups, and nongovernmental organizations-all of which enable citizens to voice common concerns and influence public policy between elections. Through these they are able to have a voice in decisions that govern them. Representative democracy is therefore not just about the elected representatives but it is the broad framework of ‘mediated politics’. How the elected representatives will be influenced by mediated politics is not determined by their skills to read and write (it is good if they have these skills) but by their intellect, ability to analyse, ability to see the interlinkages and impact of their actions, ability to express in any medium that is understood by the key group whose interests they are representing and so on.

Since representative democracy can remain representative only by being in an environment of integrated multiple channels of interaction, what is needed is also that the chosen representatives are people who are part of multiplicity of activities or initiatives in which their electorate are engaged. That means they need to be people who are rooted (even by the process of transplantation/naturalisation/adoption/immigration) in their constituencies and so that they link the constituencies with the political system. The repercussion of a lack of this rootedness and all the other abilities that are mentioned in the first paragraph is the representatives cannot see the various interest groups in their constituency, do not hear different voices that would enable them to represent all interests.

If criteria like minimum education qualification becomes a minimum eligibility condition for contesting election, it runs the risk of pushing those out who have all the abilities to be a representatives but lack the reading and writing skills. It also runs the risk of further marginalizing the those who are educationally marginalized because they may prefer their interests to be represented by one of them. Usually the educationally marginalized are also socially, economically, and/or politically marginalized. Therefore, the imposition of the minimum education qualification as is sought, say in an employee in a public or private sector, runs the risk of not giving representation to, for example, women because in a country like India, majority of them are illiterate. This does not foretell well in a country where women’s interests and numbers both remain largely unrepresented. Such a requirement pushes back the representation of the disabled, dalits, and many other such interest groups.

Also there is a need to break the perception that only those citizens who take part in election and are interested in party politics are active citizens and keeping democracy alive. Citizens who identify with certain political parties do mediate the politics through their participation and opinions and therefore through the political parties play a role in the political process. But lack of engagement with on decline in engagement with in party politics does not signal the absence from mediated politics. Similarly non-exercise of the right to vote does not mean disengagement or social disinterest in politics. These citizens usually still influence politics through their engagement in media (including internet and traditional media), social and interest groups and many other forms of organized or informal interactions. Often, those who are ‘disgusted’ or ‘disappointed’ with the current day politicians or those contesting elections, they resort to other outlets, platforms, and means of engagement that influence or are a part of political mediations. Rise of protest and social movements and social accountability measures like gender audits and social audits, emergence and mushrooming of interest groups, creative ways to institutionalize participation like participatory development and budgeting, community policing, etc, are an example of ‘non-party political engagement’. This kind of situation does not symbolise decline in citizen’s political participation rather it means a decline in party and vote based politics and growth in 'personalised politics'. It is also a sign that the strength of political parties is going to decline gradually, particularly, in terms of their ability to mobilise electorate. This is already evidenced by the proliferation of the smaller political parties, regional parties, independents, and weakening of the major political parties in India. This also keeps democracy alive as these citizens may have chosen not to exercise their right to vote but by their 'personalised politics', they are still being effective citizens in the sense that they are still mediating politics of the place/region/nation.

Read a similar post: http://j-k.in/blog/2009/12/make-voting-mandatory/

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