In this column we will be featuring the writings by award winning women journalists in India found in the collection of the book ‘Making News Breaking News Her Way. It is a publication by Tranquebar Press in association with Media Foundation, New Delhi which instituted the annual Chameli Devi Jain Award for an Outstanding Women Mediaperson in 1980.
Manimala
In pursuit of change
[dropcap]E[/dropcap]veryday we come across issues through the media that strike a chord in us, and while we discuss them with our friends, even get agitated, few of us do anything about them. Instead, we wait for an avatar to come and right the wrongs and, in general, get things done. Rarely do we believe in our own ability to bring about the change we seek.
From an early age I had wanted to do something different. Certain societal norms prevalent in those days used to trouble me a great deal. I would ponder over them and wished to address them. My conscience called on me to do something against the injustices heaped upon the women and the downtrodden sections of society.There are many vivid stories of social injustices that are routine to the powers that be, as a result of which the perpetrators roam free and with impunity. Child marriage, practice of sati, torture of women, oppression of Dalits, violation of human rights and inhuman subjugation by the; influential through a combination of caste and money power
-all occur with alarming frequency in our society. The only prevailing force to bring such wrongs to book was the pen. That is what I decided to use.
And I paid the price. One of my bones was broken when I tried to save the life of my colleague, Milind Khandekar. There have been attempts on my life and a bid to kidnap me. My sister was once mistakenly abducted in my place!
I was with Navbahrat Times in Rajasthan, but when in 1986, Navbharat Times started a Bihar edition, I returned to my home state. Patna was a city well known to me as I had studied there during the Jayaprakash Narayan OP) movement in the late 1970s. It is here that I came across one of the most heinous cases I have ever encountered -the Piparia massacre of 1984.
At the time of the incident, there had been a massive hue and cry and a lot of political busde, but the moment actual punishment was to be awarded, matters came to a grinding halt. Vote-bank politics and sympathy for the criminal gangs it nurtured, led the major political parties in the state to write to the Congress chief minister in 1987 to withdraw charges against the eleven men tried for these murders. Their plea was that caste tensions were so intense that it would be better to leave the matter alone. A promise of peace on the condition that charges be dropped was made on behalf of the caste leaders. The verdict was about to be delivered. This plea, loaded with the threat of more violence, infuriated me and I decided to revisit the case.
The Mungher district of Bihar was ruled by a cabal of administrators, politicians, criminal gangs and sections of the police that played havoc with the lives of the ordinary folks. Together they bailed one another out, especially if they belonged to the same caste. There were parallel combinations as there are three major castes -Yadav, Dhanuk and Bhumihar- so there would be clashes, but the fundamentals of the power equation remained the same, with the common people always at the receiving end.
In January 1984, fourteen children of the Yadav caste who had crossed the Ganga to collect fodder were kidnapped and murdered by fifty men of a criminal gang belonging to the Dhanuk caste. Three boys managed to hide and saw their friends being cut to pieces and thrown into the river.
Incensed by the tragedy, and the non-deliverance of justice, I got my editor’s permission to reconstruct the events. The journey to Piparia was not easy. There was no road to speak of, let alone any means of transport. Worse still, the area was infested with criminals. I had to walk for fifteen hours, alone, as no one, not even a photographer, wanted to accompany me. Fortunately, I had my own camera. When I reached the village, I interviewed a dozen youth and adults. My story was run in three parts. The first two parts focused on the events themselves and on the treatment of Dalits in the Diara region.
The third part was about the murky political dealings of the region. I was scathing about those who advocated amnesty to the murderers. What was the reason for their demand? Did they consult the mothers whose beloved children were butchered? And what about the three terrified children who had witnessed the crime and were so shocked that they couldn’t utter a word for seven days?
The pen proved mightier than the notorious nexus of administrators, politicians, criminal gangs and police. The accused were sentenced to life imprisonment, and I was honoured with the PUCL’s Human Rights Award for Journalism.
One day, I came across a small, single column story in Navbharat Times about a woman in Ranchi being branded a witch and paraded around, and decided to take up the case. I again approached my editor. After a week of groundwork, a series of five articles appeared in the paper. The illustrated Weekly of India sought an English version of the story and I set out again on a fifteen-day tour, interviewing more than fifty women.
The result was a body of appalling tales of the mistreatment of women. Some had been branded as witches and made to eat human excreta. Another’s hand had been chopped off. The story of Badaki Handa, as she was called, was straight out of a horror film. Her nephew, Mahal Marandi, had been ill for two months. One day, Phalgun Marandi and eight other criminals came and told her that the boy must be treated, or else she would be killed.
Despite all the treatment, the boy died. Shortly after that, Phalgun Marandi and the others came for Badaki Handa. She was at home feeding her six-year-old daughter. They threw the child on the ground. Seven men grabbed her and the eighth, Phalgun Marandi, chopped off her hand. There were several cases of witch-hunting in south Bihar. In Singhbhum district itself, at least 200 ‘witches’ were killed annually. The harassment of women was endless.
In March 1988, I came across another extremely touching story. This was about a girl who had been sold ten times. I interviewed all ten buyers as well as the victim and photographed all the places where she had been taken. A group of people who sympathised with the girl were attacked by another group and five of them were killed. Their dead bodies were photographed and their families interviewed. This became a front-page story in Navbharat Times.
Child marriage, like sati and witch-hunting, is as terrifying a nightmare as prostitution and sale of women. I met Indra, a twenty-year-old girl living with her parents in Bilara, in Jodhpur, Rajasthan, at a function. I was still with Navbharat Times. Indra’s father was the animal husbandry minister in the Rajasthan government. He had married off his daughter when she was only seven years old to a three-year-old boy. The grown-up Indra now refused to go to a boy she hardly knew. Furious, her father kept her in confinement for a month. When the desired results were not forthcoming, the girl was beaten. Bleeding profusely, with one arm broken and under the shadow of death, she pleaded with the deputy superintendent of police for her right to live, but was refused help. She approached all the women legislators. She wrote to the chief minister and the prime minister, but to no avail. Indra was given electric shocks and sent to her husband at gunpoint.
This is when she approached me. I argued it was her right to choose her husband. My story appeared on 19 January 1986. It set off a political avalanche. Her father was forced to resign and, more importantly, resistance to child marriage grew in Rajasthan.
I am neither a journalist by choice, nor by default. To me journalism is merely a tool to fight for the rights of the underprivileged and weaker sections of society. Yes, I am a product of the JP movement, and one who has actively participated in the struggles of many activist groups. However, journalism by choice, or by default may also have other priorities. That is why in the Roop Kanwar sati case, I was compelled to criticise the rest of the media, for they were indirectly glorifying the act.
The work of exposing social oppression through the media is not an easy task, but I have to acknowledge that many people have supported me in my mission. I am very happy that the Chameli OeviJain Foundation has encouraged women journalists. I have also been honoured with several other public awards. This has given me energy and confidence to do better.
There was a time when editors truly promoted such writing. Later, I felt a sea change in the world of journalism. The space for common people became smaller and smaller. Management has become all-powerful and editors do not have much authority. Editors who write against oppression and suppression do not last long. It is not as if there are no journalists of courage who keep writing on these issues, but such voices are somehow getting stifled.
Over the years I, too, have changed my style of functioning. From being an active journalist, I have no~ started working for society through civil society platforms. But journalism remains close to my heart because I believe in freedom of expression. I strive to keep the journalist in me alive in different ways.
Earlier, one needed a newspaper banner to spread the word. Now through the internet, one can reach a wider audience. Social media has become the new medium of self- expression. You can spread your message through blogs. In some countries, social media has resulted in fuelling revolutions or at least in bringing about major changes. Though the internet and social media are yet to become popular in most parts of the country, I do hope that with national development, the voices of the poor and the oppressed will find expression through these mediums and their suppression will be minimised if not eliminated.
Manimala has long-standing experience in journalism, having written for Prabhat Khabar, The Times of India, Navbharat Times, Malayala Manorama, and various other publications. “She began her long and active life as a social worker with the JP movement in Bihar in 1975, and has been closely associated; with movements such as the Bodhgaya land struggle, Jungle Bachao Andolan, Ganga Bachao Andolan and the Narmada j Aandolan. She has won more than two dozen awards and fellowships. Currently, she is Director of the Gandhi Smriti and Darshan Samiti. Manimala won the Chameli Devi Jain Award in 1993. She shared the award with Alka Raghuvanshi and Sheela Bhatt.
