Jantar Mantar Report - Booming India’s Suicidal Farmers

Gathered in Delhi, the wretched of the countryside are full of complaints, accusations, and hope.

[Report and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi]

The onslaught of summers has started with the farmers holding Gandhian demonstrations in the historic Jantar Mantar – Delhi’s Tiananmen Square. They arrived in trains, traveling in unreserved compartments from remote villages in the heartland provinces of Madhya Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, Andhra Pradesh, and Madhya Pradesh. Gathered in the capital of their country, they are full of complaints, accusations, and hope. One common word being uttered by all the sad lips: Karza, meaning debt.

The farmers have to pay back loans taken several monsoons ago, but they have no money. During some years their insubstantial fields received too much rain and the standing crops were ruined. In other years there was too little rain and the crops could not grow. The interest on the loans never stopped piling up and now the wretched have to pay back more than was borrowed.

Mr. Valji Raghu, an 81-year-old farmer from the Jhabua district of Madhya Pradesh (see the pictures below), had borrowed Rs 15,000 (approximately 313 USD) in 1992. He presently owes double that amount.

Mr. Vaishya, at 17, is younger and inherited the debt as legacy. Five years ago his late father had taken a loan of Rs 22,000. Now the son needs to return Rs. 60,000.

Sometimes, the combination of poverty, shame, and distress adds up enough incentive to ponder with the easy possibilities of suicide, a phenomenon emerging as the biggest epidemic in the distraught countryside. Across the country, 17,107 farmers committed suicide in 2003, the most recent year for which government figures are available.

Additionally, there is unrest regarding genetically modified seeds being peddled by American multinationals in the poor hinterlands. Such seeds are expensive and add nothing to the resources of an already debt-ridden farmer. Besides, in various places, the local government is forcibly, sometimes violently, evicting farmers from their ancestral lands to create China-style Special Economic Zones. In March 2007, 12 armed farmers were killed by the police in West Bengal’s Nandigram village when they protested against the takeover of their small farms.

Ms. Jhadki, an old woman from Madhya Pradesh participating in the Jantar Mantar demonstration, said, "We have no hope. We don’t know what to do, so we have come to Delhi. May be they will listen to us."

"Karza is not the only problem," said Mr. Veer Singh as he talked of his village in Jhabua. "We have no road and no health clinic. Electricity is supplied only for four hours per day. Schools are there, but poor people like us can’t afford them for our children."

Don’t their elected representatives assist them? "They remain in Delhi and show their faces only during the time of elections," Mr. Singh snorted.

"Look at Delhi." Mr. Vaishya suddenly emerged from his silence. "What cars, what buildings, what gardens! Our sarkar (government) spend all the money here. We get nothing."

Despite their simmering rage, the farmers are optimistic. By holding demonstrations in the heart of the capital, they feel their government will listen to them - at the least.

That is being unrealistic. The truth is that the Jantar Mantar agitation has been ignored by all, including the so-called activist-driven media. More newsprint and primetime TV news was spent on a recent Fashion Week in Delhi and on pop star Shakira’s first-ever concert in Mumbai.

Even Sharad Pawar, the Union Agriculture Minister, is a very distracted man. As President of the lucrative Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI), he has shown more concern on India’s debacle in the 2007 Cricket World Cup tournament than on suicides in the despairing countryside.

The farmers may be raising their voice, but they should know, sound waves do not travel in a vacuum.



Jantar Mantar Power - In Delhi With Hope



Jantar Mantar Power - We Are Distressed



Jantar Mantar Power - Mr. Valji Raghu Owes Rs. 30, 000 as Debt



Jantar Mantar Power - Ms. Jhadki Has No Hope



Jantar Mantar Power - Mr. Vaishya Inherited His Father's Debt



Jantar Mantar Power - Decorating Protest Slogans



Jantar Mantar Power - What Will Happen Now

Photo Essay - Time Out Lajpat Nagar

Non-stop shoppping in one of Delhi's busiest bazaars.

[Story and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi]

The sandals are pretty but expensive so Mrs. Sarla Nigam is arguing with the sandal walla to come down from Rs 300 to Rs 200 but the sandal walla knows her heart is into it and so he plays stubborn and so Mrs. Nigam walks out in huff and puff and then he calls her back (Behenji!) and they finally settle at Rs 225 (last price, the sandal walla warns) and all this while Mrs. Nigam is unaware that the purple shade of her chiffon saree has been momentarily glanced at by Arpita, a Delhi University student, who has come to buy capris but is in fact being constantly nagged by Suman, her friend and classmate, to have golgappas and so they stop by a chaat stall where Arpita orders "bhayya, ek plate tikki" which, as it happens, was also ordered by Mrs. Radha Sachdev and her daughter-in-law Akanksha who had left a minute before for Garam Gali where they will buy a red-coloured wedding saree for Mrs. Sachdev's younger daughter Padmini, due to get married next week, and so both the saas-bahu walk on, distracted by garment stores on both sides of the street, but unlike them Sajeeb Yaqub, an Iranian student living in the area, does notice that familiar old lady (everbody calls her Amma) begging by the pavement on to whose bowl he quickly drops a 5-rupee coin but the poor woman continues to be indifferent till somebody tells her she is being photographed and just at that moment the photographer overhears a college-going girl, licking on a kali-mirch chusky, exclaim "cool" to her boyfriend on noticing the digital camera but it does not impress the boyfriend who warns of getting late for 3C's multiplex where the film is to start at sharp 7 pm and so they quickly walk away ignoring the two kids collecting garbage and past a family having momos and past Claire, a blonde-haired Australian native, having mutton shawarma in a Lebanese stall where also stand a pair of girls dressed in rather revealing clothes, a daring display of flesh that is being frowned upon by Mrs. Sarla Nigam who stares at the babes while wondering whether to first have Chhola Bhathura at Aggrawal Sweets or to go to McDonalds to buy Vegetable Burgers for the children (takeaway please) and then her eyes move to two contended-looking obese ladies stepping out of Niharika Saree Emporium with five bags which reminds Mrs. Nigam of her own two shopping bags – two shopping bags! Loser.


Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Sandal Shopping



Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Child's Bubble



Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Saree Drying



Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Lemon to Keep off the Evil Eye



Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Informal Dress Code



Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Forget Me Not



Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Mumbai's Chuski Vs American Corn



Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Momo Mmm...



Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Wedding Special Garam Gali



Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Open Air Jeweller



Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Henna Walli



Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Ladies Corner



Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Garbage Kids



Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Buy Me



Time Out Lajpat Nagar - Girls Will Be Girls

Girls’ Night Out in a Delhi Pub

Heartbreaking account of how India’s cricket stars disappointed the "red-eyed" Delhi girls.

[Reporting by Manika Dhama; pictures by Supriya Anand and Manika Dhama]

23rd March, 7:00 pm

It was going to be a perfect evening - 5 Girls, 1 Pub, 1 Big Screen and 11 Men in Blue.

The plan was simple. We had to contribute to the Cause - help the Indian Cricket Team win the qualifying match for the 2007 World Cup. This was the make-or-break encounter between India and Sri Lanka. Our Boys had already lost one to Bangladesh. If we miss again, we would be out of the competition. The stakes were high.

Of course we knew it wasn't going to be easy. The task demanded lots of loud cheers of support, silent prayers to our respective gods and exhortations like "His time has come" whenever the enemy (read a Sri Lankan batsman) started getting too comfortable at the crease.

But there were other obstacles too, unique to Delhi. Most pubs in Delhi shut by midnight because that is supposed to be the time for every "decent'" human being to be home. On this particular night that meant rushing home after the first innings to catch the rest of the match with fathers, brothers or any other blood relative.

It didn't matter that among the five of us (Aparna, Meenakshi, Pearl, Supriya and me), only one was crazy about cricket (Aparna), while the rest (under 'normal' circumstances) would rather watch Tennis or Formula 1 Racing. But, as I said, this cricket match was different. National Pride, Patriotism and our Birthright to Eat, Drink and be Merry (on weekends) were at stake.

We did what we had to do – organize a gang to cheer our boys. For variety we even tried to get a Lankan friend to support her team at the table. But she had other priorities and, as we regret to note, her team didn't perish without her support.

Somewhere around 10:00 pm, Location - Chicane Pub, Spice Mall, Noida

Damn! A Gang member gets a call. Her pregnant sister was on way to the hospital. The baby was coming! But surely the baby had that much sense! He or She couldn't be coming NOW!

11:00 pm

First inning gets over. We had tried to stop the Sri Lankan batsmen at 200, then at 230. They finally made 254. Hasty good-byes exchanged, accompanied by “message me when you get home”. (Well, Delhi isn't the safest city!)

It was going to be a long night.

24th March, 1:30 am

The Gang stationed themselves in their respective homes, still trying to work their magic.

Meanwhile different thoughts were seesawing in my mind. Sleep? Watch? Sleep? Watch? Sleep? Watch…

And then the Indian wickets started falling one by one…like dominoes (a little exaggeration never killed anyone).

Time to take the most crucial decision of the night - Sleep or Watch?

Suddenly a blasphemous thought: “Win or Lose - Does it REALLY matter?”

No, there was no turning back. I’ll lie awake and pray for the boys. The die was cast.

2:00 am

SMS to a Gang member: "This can't be happening to us! I'm praying for a miracle and going to sleep."

Reply: "No miracle can save us. I am going to sleep too. See you at work tomorrow."

[Somewhere around 3:00am India lost the match. By then I was fast asleep.]

5:00 am

Message from the friend (the one with the pregnant sister) to fellow Gang members: "My sister blessed with a baby girl".

Message from God: "Sorry Ladies! You only get one miracle tonight."

9:00 am (The Mourning After)

Sun still rose! I expected to see the collective sorrow of the Nation spill out onto the clogged highways of Delhi. No such luck.

Lives moved on, oblivious of the HUMILIATION (as one newspaper put it.)

I was heart-broken. I knew we tried our best. I knew we could make it happen. But we could not!

However there is only so much 5 Girls in Delhi can do to help 11 Men win the War of Windies in faraway Caribbean.

Next time (2011!) we'll try harder. I promise.

Olivia Fraser's Painting Exhibition - Delhi Through Firangi Eyes

Delhi in Lonely Planet-style exotica that only a westerner could have portrayed.

[By Mayank Austen Soofi]

Olivia Fraser must be a happy artist. She has retained her identity in spite of being the wife of a superstar author. Most of the people accidentally stumbling (as this reviewer discovered) into her art exhibition at New Delhi's Triveni Kala Sangam art gallery were unaware of her or her connections to William Dalrymple. The couple is originally from Scotland, but spends a good time of the year in Delhi.

Shockingly, a few had no idea of even Mr. Dalrymple. Ms. Aanchal Kataria, a young student from Indraprastha College, had never heard of Mr. Dalrymple's classic City of Djinns, a book which carried prints of Mrs. Fraser's sketches of everyday life in Delhi. Some of those drawings were included in the exhibition.

The watercolor paintings trace their origin to the early 90s when Mrs. Fraser first started living in the capital. While her husband gathered anecdotes for his book, she did explorations of her own. An excerpt from City of Djinns makes it clearer:

"It was now cool enough for Olivia to go out painting in the mornings. Everyday she would get up at eight and disappear with her brushes and her watercolours. She had given up her place at art school to come out to Delhi and was determined to make the most of the opportunity. For the rest of the cold season she toured Old Delhi's kuchas and muhallas sketching the people, the buildings and the ruins. Some day she would not return until dusk."

Watching the fascinated expressions on the faces of the gallery visitors, her outings were not in vain. "The details are good. She has finely captured the street scenes of Delhi, its culture and its grand Mughal architecture. These are things we Delhites do not usually notice." Ms. Kataria said.

But were the illustrations real or merely romantic?

Mrs. Fraser has painted Delhi in Lonely Planet-style exotica that only a westerner could have noticed - a carefully decorated Hindu holy Cow, a mahout sitting serenely on his elephant, a cowherd playing a flute in a verdant ground, a boy flying a kite, a man attending to his pigeons, and a Bollywood actress dancing between Palm trees. Fine portrayals, but clichéd and disconcertingly similar to Chairman Mao's Cultural Revolution posters - clean, idealistic, and unreal.

Additionally, there were glimpses of imposing forts and domes, peaceful households (mother with the baby, father selling spices) and oriental scenes (Rajputs in turbans, Gujjar tribesmen in dhotis). The people looked content in their appointed places, resigned to the limitations of their caste, tribe, and gender.

This depiction is not true. Delhi, or for that matter India, is a place where people are impatient, angry, and seething with rage. There are a thousand mutinies underway in roadsides and slums. This truth, however, is absent in Mrs. Fraser's world-bubble, which is suffused with a calm, karmic acceptance of one's predestined fate, blissfully ignorant of the conflicts and struggles of everyday living.

One painting of Mrs. Fraser, Delhi Panorama, deserves a special mention. It has gods of various religions illustrated next to each other (relax; there is no Muhammad's illustration, only Kaaba). This is ironic considering she is portraying a society where inter-religious riots are frequent, and at times socially acceptable.

Still it must be said that though the artist's utopian reality was unconvincing, her intentions sparkled in their sincerity. The figures were enchanting, the details accurate, the strokes credible, and the colours sober. Nonetheless it was difficult to ignore that the collection betrayed the dismal authenticity of the outside world, and yet, such willful escapism could not be the reason to dismiss the compositions. Mrs. Fraser's interpretations of this great city were inspired from real-world observations. These were her eye-views. They had to be noticed.



The Art Gallery - Triveni Kala Sangam
(Titles are within the brackets)



The Exotic View - A Mahout (Elephant)



The Exotic View - A Holy Cow (Holy Cow)



The Exotic View - A Pigeon Player (Kabutar Bazi)



The Happy India - A Bollywood Babe* (Bollywood Babe)


*Notice the gods on top. (Is Bollywood secular?)

The Happy India - Mother Indias (Rice Pickers)



The Happy India - Household Harmony (Mandu High Street)



Every Caste Has a Place - The Rajputs of Delhi (Rajputs)



Every Caste Has a Place - The Gujjars of Delhi (Gujjars)



The Congress Wallas of Delhi* (Congress Men)


*The picture is idealistic but the modern-day Congresswallas are some of the most corrupt politicians.

The Card Players of Delhi (The Card Players)



The Delhi Panorama - Co-existing with Gods (Delhi Panorama)



Tombs and Domes - The Jama Masjid of Delhi



Tombs and Domes - Humayun Tomb



Tombs and Domes - Entrance to Mohammed Ibn Tughluq's Tomb



Dhobis - The Washermen of Delhi (The Dhobis)



The Content Cowherd (The Song of the Flute)



The Visitors

Photo Essay: Sunder Nursery Secret - Scent of a Bargain

Delhi's most beautiful and inexpensive flower nursery that nobody knows.

[By Mayank Austen Soofi. This article originally appeared in the Outlook magazine]

Here's a secret too delicious to keep locked between the teeth and the lips. Adjacent to Humayun Tomb bloom fragrant roses, curvaceous tulips, and snow white dahlias - all available at bargain basement prices. This is Sunder Nursery, India's largest government nursery. Twelve Poppy sticks can be plucked for a mere Rs. 36, whereas the florist at nearby Khan Market sells a single, day-old Poppy at Rs. 30. More importantly, the rates remain constant, Valentine's Day or not.

Spread across 67 acres, Sunder Nursery however attracts only about thirty visitors a day. "People don't know flowers are inexpensive here," observed Ms. Ram Pyari, a gardener for the past twenty years. In February, daily sales were Rs. 2500 even as the Khan Market florist made more than twice during the same period.

"Prices outside are horrendously high," concurred Mrs. Jeet Seth, a regular visitor. "But I love this place chiefly for its space, ambiance, and tombs." These are not the only temptations. "What joy it is to pick colours of your choice while arranging a bouquet in the mind," added Mrs. Seth. "Sunder Nursery is indeed a paradise. Buying flowers here is a rewarding experience." Shhh, it's a secret.


The Nursery Scenes - space, ambiance, and tombs



The Nursery Scenes - Ms. Ram Pyari, a gardener for the past twenty years



The Nursery Scenes - Mrs. Jeet Seth, a regular visitor



The Nursery Scenes - Officials of the Orchard



The Nursery Scenes - The Grass Cutters