“There is no safety for girls in our village. They don’t leave their houses after eight or nine p.m.,” says Shukla Ghosh. She is referring to Kuapur, a village in Paschim Medinipur. “The girls are scared. But they also feel the need to resist and protest.”
Ghosh and the girls from Kuapur are among the thousands of farmers, farm labourers and workers from across West Bengal’s villages and small towns who turned out in large numbers last week to protest the brutal rape and murder of a young trainee medical doctor in Kolkata’s R.G. Kar Hospital.
The protest march held on September 21, 2024, started on central Kolkata’s College Street and moved towards Shyambazar, a distance of around 3.5 kilometres.
The protestors’ demands included swift justice and exemplary punishment for the culprits, resignation of the Police Commissioner of Kolkata (a demand also of the doctors’ protests which has been accepted by the government), and resignation of Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee who holds the portfolios of health and family welfare, and home and hill affairs.
Left: Shukla Ghosh, the district secretary of ICDS workers of Paschim Medinipur says that girls in her village Kuapur do not feel safe. Right: Mita Ray, a farm labourer, has come to the protest march from Nakunda in Hooghly
“Tilottama tomar naam, jurchhe shohor jurchhe gram [Tilottama, in your name, cities and villages are uniting]!” is the cry of the rally. ‘Tilottama’ is the name given by the city to the 31-year-old who died. It’s another name for Goddess Durga and means one who is composed of the finest particles’. It’s also an epithet for Kolkata city.
“It is the responsibility of the police and the authorities to help women feel secure,” continues Shukla. “If the girls see them trying to protect the accused, how will they feel safe?” asks the district secretary of ICDS workers in Paschim Medinipur.
“What have they [state] done for the safety of us farm labourers?” asks protestor Mita Ray. Girls in the village are afraid to go out at night. That is why I have come here. We have to fight for the safety of women and girls.” Ray is a farm worker from Nakunda in Hooghly district (also spelt Hugli).
The 45-year-old says she would much rather have a
pucca
washroom than open fields for defecation. Mita owns two
bighas
of land on which she cultivates potato, paddy and sesame, but recent floods have ruined the crop. “We have not received any relief,” says Mita who earns Rs. 250 for a 14-hour day working as a farm labourer. She is carrying a red flag of the Communist Party of India (Marxist) on her shoulders. She lost her husband but does not receive a widow’s pension. She does get Rs. 1,000 through Laxmir Bhandar, a flagship programme of the Trinamool Congress-led government, but it is not enough to sustain her family she says.
Graffiti at National Medical College and Hospital, Kolkata
Left: A graffiti on the walls of National Medical College and Hospital says, 'the state shields rapist, so the state is a rapist'. Right: ‘Down with patriarchy’
*****
“I have come here because I am a woman.”
From Chanchal village in Maldah district, farm labourer Banu Bewa has spent all her life working. The 63-year-old is standing in a huddle of other women from her district who have joined the rally, determined to fight for the rights of working women.
“Women should be able to work at night, “says Namita Mahato, referring to the directive of the government that women staff of hospitals will not be given night duty, a directive that has since been criticised by the Supreme Court bench looking over the case.
In her fifties, Namita is standing with a group of women from Puruliya district (also spelt Purulia) in front of the gates of College Square –a busy area that houses three universities, schools, several book stalls and stores and the Indian Coffee House.
From Gaurangdi village, Namita belongs to the Kurmi community (listed as Other Backward Classes in the state) and works as a
rong mistiri
(paint worker) under a contractor and is paid Rs. 300-350 for a day’s work. “I paint windows and doors and grills in people’s houses,” she says. A widow, she receives the pension provided by the state.
Left : Banu Bewa, a farm labourer (green sari) from Maldah says, 'I have come here because I am a woman.' Right: Namita Mahato (pink saree), a daily wage labourer from Purulia says it is the responsibility of the contractor to ensure her safety at her workplace
Left: A protestor sings songs demanding justice. Right: Tushar Ghosh, president of West Bengal Agricultural Workers’ Union says, 't he protests against the incident at R. G. Kar should also highlight the everyday struggles of working-class women'
Namita lives with her son who works in an iron factory, and her daughter-in-law and a granddaughter. Her own daughter is married. “You know, she passed all the exams and interviews, but her joining letter never came,” she complains, “this government has not given us jobs.” The family also cultivates paddy on the one bigha land once a year and is dependent on the rain for irrigating their crops.
*****
The R. G. Kar case of the young doctor who was assaulted and murdered at her workplace has brought the woes of working-class women into focus. Lack of toilets for fisherwomen, brick kiln and MNREGA workers, absence of creches and the gender wage gap are just some of the issues, points out Tushar Ghosh, president of the West Bengal Agricultural Workers’ Union. “The protests against the incident at R. G. Kar should also highlight the everyday struggles of working-class women,” he says.
Since the incident on August 9, 2024, West Bengal has erupted into protests. From cities to towns to villages, the common people, a significant number of them women, have taken to the streets to reclaim the night and public spaces. The protest of the junior doctors from across the state has also highlighted the corruption, misuse of power and a culture of intimidation in government medical colleges. Now, more than a month after the incident, the protests show no signs of slowing down.
