The Indian Jawan

These are few stories told by the jawans in the Indian paramilitary forces.

Story 1

“I spent one third of my 20 years in the CRPF just travelling. Of these 20 years, I could spend only three years with my children. I took medical leave to get married. I could only reach my village five days after I received news of my father passing away. I am the eldest in my family but I couldn’t even perform the last rites. I couldn’t attend three of my four sisters’ marriages. I had to arrange a separate house for my wife and kids after my father’s death because my brother threw them out from the joint family house. But if you take any of these problems to your officers, they just shoo you away.”

Story 2

A jawan who has spent 16 years in the CRPF — six in Jammu and Kashmir, three in Assam, three in Tripura, and three in Manipur. Too scared to talk at the CRPF headquarters, he calls late at night to share his story. During a posting in Srinagar, he was charged with indiscipline and lost 15 days of pay for daring to complain about inedible food and cockroaches in his dal. When he fell sick in Tripura, he couldn’t get a car to get to hospital. “I had to hire a jeep,” says he. “Only if 15-20 constables fall sick and need a car together, there’s a chance of us getting it. Otherwise the cars are busy ferrying the officers’ children. This country got independence in 1947, but we still live like slaves. Our officers order us to do unauthorized things; we have no right to express ourselves. They tell us to barge into people’s homes and pick up bricks and cement and construct our quarters. They pocket lakhs of welfare money; they take commissions from ration shops.

We pay Rs 1,326 per month for food. The bills are for A-grade rations but we get C-grade food. The commander is like the king of a battalion. He runs it the way he wants. As a driver, I am sent all the time for unauthorized pick ups. All the risk of being caught is on me. You live under so much pressure, you either shoot yourself or shoot someone else. I am just waiting to complete 20 years so I can get a part of my pension and then I’ll quit."

Story 3

One retired jawan remembers a tortuous journey in 2004 that stretched 8,000 kilometers over two months as the Home Ministry ordered his company like a pawn to move from Agartala to Gujarat via Bangladesh, Delhi, Kashmir and back to Agartala. Crowded trains, no reservations, no accommodations, no sense of why they were being deployed anywhere, and, most of all — no sense of respect. “I have fought insurgents for 20 years,” says the jawan bitterly, “but this one journey showed me my standing in my country’s eyes. How can you fool around with so many human beings on the pretext of an emergency situation?” Other jawans speak of being summoned to places for six months and being asked to stay for six years.

Read the full article here: Soldiers of Misfortune

Also read ‘My patriotism is dead’ & ‘We felt like pawns’ on the same page.

Tip Tip Barsa Pani: Ritika Passi

RITIKA PASSI wonders at the depletion of scarce water resources by Bollywood

THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY is expected to grow faster than the GDP. By 2020, India could run out of drinking water. What’s the connection? Gone are the days when you could cite continuously flushing toilets and leaking taps as causes of water shortage: The newest and much more glamorous culprit is our healthy, wealthy, but not so wise Bollywood industry. India’s very own tinsel town has a major hand in depleting precious water resources. Think of all the rain sequences in Indian movies, particularly the rain dances. It’s estimated that around 28,000 litres of water are needed for a single rain sequence in a film. And that too pure water, since actors fear rashes. The amount is enough to fulfill the water requirements of 30 families for four weeks, according to an art director interviewed by a leading daily. Puts the leaking DJB water tankers to shame. And before you go, “What about movies like Titanic and Poseidon?”, remember the words ‘special effects’, which are much more advanced there than here? So while in Gujarat nearly 4,000 villages suffer from severe water scarcity every year, not to fear — the scantily clad damsel in distress in a Yash Raj Production will be sufficiently drenched to artfully capture her nubile form enticing her indifferent lover through yet another song. While Bollywood may indeed have given us evergreen rain song numbers, like the more modest pyaar hua ikraar hua and the sizzling tip tip barsa paani, it’s time to ask whether it’s worth the environmental fallout. And these are just the water woes. Consider this: Hollywood spews around 2,000 tonnes of CO2 for every average big-budget movie. Moreover, 8,00,000 sheets of paper are wasted by the average blockbuster. Bollywood can’t be far behind, considering how well we like to compete with our western counterpart. And it’s also said that a one-minute shot eats up 120 KW. Aishwarya Rai, Amitabh Bachchan and the likes may have joined unforgettable world tours to highlight climate change; Vidya Balan may have taken part in the illustrious plantation drive on World Environment Day. But the fact remains — Bollywood is a ‘dirty’ business. Tip Tip Barsa Pani is a famous rain song from the Bollywood movie, Mohra (1994) and the phrase literally means the sound(tip tip) of water dripping. (Ritika Passi studies at the Amity School of Communication, Amity University)

From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 48, Dated Dec 06, 2008