Joshua Bodhinetra

Smita Khator

Labani Jangi

Illustration

Pratishtha Pandya

Editor

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Caught between &#39;khela hobe&#39; (the game is on) and &#39;abki baar 400 paar &#39;(this time we shall
cross the 400 mark), our home state is a miniature India, a curious mix of sarkari yojanas, syndicate mafias,
government doles and discordant agitations. 

Here we have homeless
migrants trapped in jobs and jobless youth in a hopeless homeland, commoners
caught in centre-vs-state crossfire, farmers crippled by climate change, and
minorities fighting fundamentalist rhetoric. Nerves are fraying, bodies are
breaking down. Caste, class, gender, language, ethnicity, religion, all are
making a hullabaloo at the intersections. 

As
we drift across this madness, we hear voices, utterly confused, helpless,
delirious, as well as those no-longer-fooled-by-the-who&#39;s-who-of-power. From
Sandeshkhali to the Himalayan tea gardens, from Kolkata to the forgotten tracts
of Rarh, we roam, a reporter and a bard. We hear, we gather, we click, we
speak.

We
begin with Sandeshkhali, an otherwise obscure island at the Sundarban delta
region of West Bengal, that often gets caught in political battles over the
control of land and women’s bodies. 



Shatranj 

Veni
vici vidi Here
comes the ED. There
in the village of Sandeshkhali – the
night just yawned, the
women, all pawned, TV
anchors moaned, “Ram Ram, Ali Ali!”

Traversing
through Bankura, Puruliya (also spelt Purulia), West Midnapore and Jhargram, districts from a region
popularly known as Jungle Mahal, we meet women farmers and migrant agricultural
labourers.



Jhumur 

Migrant
labourers buried
in the sand, Such
is the story of our terracotta land. &#39;Paani&#39; is a blasphemy, you
must say &#39;jal&#39;! Such
is the thirst of Jungle Mahal.

Darjeeling
may be the ‘Queen of the hills’ for the world, but not for Adivasi women
toiling in the seemingly idyllic gardens, who don’t have toilets to relieve themselves.
The inequality and struggle for survival of women in the area means that as far
as their future is concerned, the writing is on the wall!





Bloody Mary 

Would
you care for a cuppa tea? White
peony, oolong? Roasted,
toasted, upper class bong. Would
you care for a cuppa blood or
an Adivasi gal? Toiling,
boiling, “We shall! We shall!&quot;

Murshidabad
is not just at the heart of Bengal but also in the eye of another kind of
storm, the one that landed with the cash-for-school-job. A high court order
invalidating a large number of fraudulent appointments of teachers and
non-teaching staff by the state&#39;s School Service Commission (SSC) in state-run
and state-aided schools has left young minds in doubt. The young boys, not even
18, working in beedi-making units, have little faith in education and
its ability to bring good fortune. They would rather join the workforce early
and migrate for better opportunities. 



Eligible candidates 

They
sat in a dharna, &#39;tanashahi ar naa!&#39; The
cops came down with military boots – sarkari naukri, Damn,
they&#39;re not free! The
stick and the carrot are all in cahoots.

No matter what time of
the year it is, we need to jostle our way through the crowded streets of
Kolkata, where protesting women are seen in large numbers. People are flowing
in from all corners of the state to raise their hands in protest unjust laws
and values. 

Citizenship 

Here
comes the paper-man, run,
run, if you can, Bangladeshi!
Bangladeshi! Off with your head! Down
with your CAA; we&#39;ll
never run away, Bangladeshi!
Bangladeshi! Cake over bread?

In
the villages dependent on agriculture in Bhirbum we came face to face with landless Adivasi women at work. A few women with family land also had little say in it.

Shudrani 

O
babu, here&#39;s my muddy ol&#39; patta – ruddy
and torn like a scarlet dupatta. Give
me a morsel, hand me a life, I
am a farmer, not a farmer&#39;s wife. Gone
is my land babu, gone
with the drought... am
I still a farmer, or a sarkari doubt?

The
ordinary people here do not wait for election time to make those in power
accountable. Women and farmers from Murshidabad, Hooghly, Nadia have come out
time and again, to support nationwide
movements. 

Hammers 

Dear
dear teargas triggered
in a whim — factories
close down, landsharks swim. Black
black barricades. Minimum
wage — NREGA
trapped in a saffron rage.

Of polls, poems and photos

انتخابات، نظمیں اور تصاویر

தேர்தல்கள், கவிதைகள் மற்றும் புகைப்படங்கள்

ਕਵਿਤਾਵਾਂ ਬਿਆਨਦੀਆਂ ਪੱਛਮੀ ਬੰਗਾਲ ਦਾ ਚੋਣ-ਹਾਲ਼

ମତଦାନ, କବିତା ଓ ଫଟୋ ଆଦି ସମ୍ପର୍କରେ...

തിരഞ്ഞെടുപ്പുകൾ, കവിതകൾ, ചിത്രങ്ങൾ

ಚುನಾವಣೆಯ ದೃಶ್ಯ ಮತ್ತು ಕಾವ್ಯ

चुनावों का पश्चिम बंगाल, कविताओं का शोक काल

મતની વાત: કવિતા અને ફોટા

चुनाव, कविता अऊ फोटू

कहब त लग जाई धक् से!

নেতা-নীতি, কবিতা আৰু কিছু ফটোগ্ৰাফ

ছড়া-ছবির মহাজোট

Jadavpur

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Of polls, poems and photos

A reporter and a poet from West Bengal bring to us what they have observed from travelling across the state in the five years before General Elections 2024

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