Of polls, poems and photos

Caught between 'khela hobe' (the game is on) and 'abki baar 400 paar '(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'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.
'Paani' is a blasphemy,
you must say 'jal'!
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!"

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'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,
'tanashahi ar naa!'
The cops came down with military boots –
sarkari naukri,
Damn, they'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'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's my muddy ol' patta –
ruddy and torn like a scarlet dupatta.
Give me a morsel, hand me a life,
I am a farmer, not a farmer'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.