how NE women cope with big city


How North-east women cope with the big city. By ninglun hanghal
‘Girl from Manipur molested, allegedly by Gurgaon neighbour”; “Northeast girls molested by Air India staff”; “Dana Sangma suicide: Amity denies discrimination”… Of late, the media have been full of reports on the insecure lives of thousands of young women who come to the Capital from India’s northeastern states to study or seek gainful employment.
According to the ‘North East Migration and Challenges in National Capital Cities 2011’, a study by the North East Support Centre & Helpline, over 314,850 people had migrated from the Northeast to Delhi and other cities between 2005 and 2009. Delhi, of course, has emerged as one of the most popular destinations – the University of Delhi is a magnet for those interested in higher studies, while the sparkling lights of the retail and BPO sectors in the National Capital Region (NCR) beckon unemployed youth.
But these opportunities apart, life in the NCR is far from salubrious, particularly for women. It is now an established fact that both men and women from the Northeast are subject to racial discrimination, even violence. Incidents of physical violence, rape and even murder are not uncommon experiences. The reasons for such bestial acts are varied. For instance, women could find themselves under attack in the patriarchal milieu of north India, because they look different, or appear “modern” and “free”.
Shang and Renu, who have been living in Delhi for over two years, prefer however not to dwell on the “dangers” too much. Ever since the two friends, who are both in their early 20s, came to Delhi from Manipur, they have simply played it safe. They live in a relatively safe middle-class colony in south Delhi with their relatives, and work at a gift shop in a high-end mall located just a few kilometres away. For assisting shoppers and keeping a cheerful demeanour all day, they take home a modest monthly salary of any thing between Rs 10,000 and Rs 13,000 (US$1=Rs 55.4). “It’s nice working here,” says Shang, with a soft smile, adding, “You will find that most showrooms here have staffers from the Northeast.”
Shang is right. Just a few metres away, at a skin and body care products counter, Jolly and Margaret, also in their early 20s, are busy at work. Dressed in white coats and aprons, the two girls pleasantly explain the benefits of the range on offer to prospective customers. For their hard work – they are mostly on their feet and have to be patient with everyone who visits their kiosk – they earn Rs 20,000 every month. Both the girls live in rented accommodation. While Jolly stays with her brother, who works in a BPO, Margaret shares her home with a cousin, who works in a shopping complex.
Ask these young women about the hardships they endure in a city like Delhi and they remark that the harassment, discrimination and bad behaviour they encounter are so ubiquitous that such behaviour has almost become “normal and usual” for them. Street stalkers, misbehaving cabbies, random bystanders who keep staring, they encounter them every day. But they have learnt to deal with the “risks” by making sure that they travel in groups, and by bonding with colleagues and friends.
In fact, these are among the most common coping mechanisms reported. For instance, all the young women we spoke to told us that they invariably had a colleague, friend or relative from their home state at their workplace on whom they depended when things got tough or emotionally draining in a highly competitive office environment. Moreover, they make it a point to live with their siblings, relatives, or friends – cultural ties help to create a sense of security. There are spin-offs of such arrangements: Sharing a flat helps save money – and although earn enough to send money home on a regular basis, savings come in handy for gifts for festive occasions.
Most young northeastern women with a high school certificate or college degree prefer to work in malls and shopping complexes because they are better in terms of physical security and work timings. Most of them get off by 10 pm and can easily take an autorickshaw back home – cheaper than hiring a cab – since they are still plying on the roads at that hour. For those doing the graveyard shifts, like BPO employees, the risks are much higher. A major source of disquiet is the transportation arrangements made by BPO employers for those on night shifts.
Khanching from Manipur, who works in an UK-based outbound insurance telemarketing company in south Delhi, starts her shift at 3.30 in the afternoon and gets off past midnight. Although she has been doing this job since 2008, hardly a day goes by when she is not on her guard. Like the other women we talked to, Khanching, who earns around Rs 18,000 per month, also lives in a middle-class neighbourhood, with her younger brother, a college student.
The problem often is that the vehicle that drops women like Khanching home cannot access the narrow lanes of many residential colonies in Delhi. So they are dropped off on the main road and often have to make their way at that late hour past groups of young men, some of whom may be drunk. But Khanching has found a way out even in this challenging scenario, “Since my cab cannot come up at my doorstep, it’s my male colleagues – also from the Northeast – who drop me.” She also showed us a bottle of Spray COP alert, which can temporarily disable an assailant. Although she makes sure to carry it in her bag every day, she has fortunately never needed to use it she says.
Among the scores of young women working in the retail and BPO sectors, are several young women entrepreneurs, too. Take the five Mizo women who run a beauty parlour in south Delhi. Mazami, who manages the salon, came to the city in 2008 and her friends joined her later. Today, at their home-cum-salon, they pitch in and do everything together. They share the rent; they rustle up meals and, of course, work jointly. The parlour opens at 10 am, and the women work through the day, cutting hair or doing facials and the like until 8 pm. Sunday is an off day – they spend it by going to church and visiting relatives across the city.
In Delhi, the beauty business can sometimes mean big bucks. Mazami, who manages to make over Rs 20,000 a month, reveals that it is also a demanding line of work. “Sometimes I get very tense,” she says. The bulk of her customers are from the Northeast. “People from our region do not feel very comfortable going to other parlours because of the language barrier. They feel free and comfortable here,” says Mazami, who is undergoing training at Jawed Habib Hair & Beauty Ltd. She has big plans for the future. “I am looking forward to expanding my parlour,” she smiles.
Her words are a reminder of the inherent resilience and never-say-die spirit of these young women. Despite the shabby treatment meted out to them, they have kept themselves and their families going. While support structures are few, those that do exist are a great help in times of trouble. There are also groups working to change attitudes and build bridges between different communities. Some run helplines and websites to register complaints.
What’s interesting is that although every woman we talked to is aware of the dangers of living in a city like Delhi, none of them is fazed. They believe they have made the right decision by migrating to the big city and making the most of the opportunities that come their way.

women's feature services
August 2012


Lyrics of a Conflict Song: Creating of the Stereotypes


  eastern quarterly, a jounal published by manipur research forum ( delhi) vol 7, issue I&II spring and monsson 2011
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Lyrics of a Conflict Song: Creating of the Stereotypes 
NINGLUN HANGHAL
“Manipur , a state equated in popular representation as conflict torn area has seen the manifestation in armed insurgency and HIV – AIDS. While conflict has adversely affected the social fabric, its representation has reduced the conflict into simplistic hills – valley animosity and is steeped in stereotypes”. 
Today the state of Manipur is notoriously equated with conflict. Problems that the state of merely 2.2 millions population is faced with, is far greater than what one would normally expect. Two major areas in which conflicts get manifested are armed insurgency and HIV–AIDS. There are other related areas of conflict like ethnic tension, religious animosity, hills-valley divide, rural-urban divide, etc. All these have in fact wracked the social fabric of the place and its people.
But more worrisome trend amidst these forms of conflict is the way these conflicts have been represented by people who are crafted with the art of representation, be it writing of novels, scholarly books, print and electronic media, films and photographs. Several stereotypes of the state, and also many other states of the region, have been projected in the recent past. The documentary film titled Manipur Song by a well-known film maker, Pankaj Butalia, is one such representation that depicts the region and the people in a bad taste. The film was telecast on August 15, 2010 coinciding with India’s independence day by NDTV Profit, a Delhi based national television which focus on business and market. Certainly sensationalization beomes the mantra of such production houses and film makers, for that will bring greater market avenues.
Butalia’s film picturizes armed conflict, drug abuse and prostitution in a most blatant and sterotyped form that is completely devoid of any effort to capture the nuanced human conditions shaped by a violent culture of conflict. There is no denying the fact that Manipur today is one of the most violent states in the world. With a data of 369 insurgency related fatalities in 2009, the South Asia Terrorism Portal (SATP) in its assessment year 2010, stated that Manipur is the most violent state in India followed by Assam with 344 fatalities. But role of a film maker is little more than merely presenting the facts. There is much to be read about the intentions and politics behind making of such films.
Next comes the HIVAIDS “epidemic,” a term used by UNAIDS. Manipur has a record of being the highest percentage of adult HIV prevalence state in India according to the 1998–2006 estimate of National Aids Control Organization (NACO), where Manipur shows 1.67 per cent, while the country’s overall estimate is 0.36 per cent. The HIV–AIDS data and statistics are self explanatory in itself. Subsequently, Manipur was the first state in India to have a State AIDS Policy; the Manipur government adopted the State AIDS Policy on 3rd October, 1996. Later the Manipur State AIDS Control Society (MACS) was formed and registered in March, 1998. According to the society’s recorded data from 1986 till August, 2010, there are a total of 4589 AIDS cases, where 3316 are males and 1273 are females, with record of 645 deaths due to AIDS. It says Manipur contributes nearly 8 per cent of  India’s total HIV positive cases.
With such a back ground that is alarming, many from within and outside the state have studied this land and its people with a sense of “excitement.” But few try to understand the pain and sufferings that the common people in the region have survived decades of suppression and violence. While a study on aspects of conflict is likely to open the “pandora’s box,” that is still a welcome step compared to those narratives that remain in the peripheral level and merely sensationalizes. Pankaj Butalia’s Manipur Song is one such case in point.
The year 1947 has become more or less a land mark in the history of Manipur and Northeast India at large. The end of the colonial rule becomes a point of contention for the people of the region on evolving new political processes. It brought tremendous changes in terms of socio political life of the people. Manipur have had the experience of resistance movements – of armed non state groups and pressure groups with several claims starting from sovereignty, self determination, autonomous administration, to recognition for schedule tribe status (ST), etc. As stated above, besides the conflicts of state versus non state, numerous inter and intra communal strifes have also been witnessed. In the face of all these, there is also a perception by a large section of the people in Manipur (also of the Northeast) that they do not (think to) belong to India. Though such a perception is often seen as state of emotion, this certainly forms a strong case for opposition against the “forced annexation” into India. Indeed Manipur and communities of the Northeast India actually comprise of independent and distinctive cultural identities. Oral histories, folk tales passed on from one generation to another narrate stories of past glory, self sufficiency, abundance of natural resources, self governance, distinctive culture and tradition. This distinctiveness of a different entity called “Manipur” or the “Northeast India at large,” fairly different from the mainland India. 
Subsequently as much as Northeasterners do not feel a sense of belongingness, the geophysique further alienate the region creating a psychological distance. This differences also generate indifferences by the “mainlanders,” while people inhabiting this region feels “foreign” to the mainland India. These factors of “difference and indifference” manifest in various forms, kinds and magnitude. While on one hand, people of the Northeast feels discriminated and alienated for being different, manifest in the form of violent resistance and demands for self determination, on the other hand, mainlanders’ indifference towards the region manifest in the form of misperception, judgmental opinion, attitude and treatment particularly towards the women folk of this region.    
Manipur Song began with an introductory note on the political history of Manipur. The introduction narrates that the appropriation (merger) of Manipur into the Indian Union after the British left India in 1947 leading to insurgency movement in Manipur, which was quite understandably anti-Indian. The introduction rightly notes Manipur’s sovereignty and its existence as an independent kingdom. Simultaneously it goes into picturing the Laiharaoba dance and a traditional Meitei marriage procession, showcasing Manipur’s socio culture and tradition that is different from mainland India’s.
This is followed by a generalised introduction stating that the Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA), 1958, was introduced in the region because of the insurgency movement in Manipur, further mentioning that over 20 such insurgent groups operate in the state. The introduction also underlines the conflict between these insurgent groups, underdevelopment, drugs, HIVAIDS, stating that there are many irreconcilable problems. The introduction while underlining Manipur’s different socio cultural and practices, noting its rich culture, gives a generalised and negated version over the issue and problems facing the state. It remains to be understood what irreconcilable problems the film maker tries to tell about and why was it irreconcilable. This negative outlook sends a de-motivating message for those who live their life with hope and for those who believe that reconciliation is one possible solution for conflict.
The narration says that the film maker travels from Delhi, the national capital, in 2004, being provoked by certain incidents. This was followed by video footage of the nude protest, police firings, angry youth out in the streets with slogans. The narration does not give any background information as to what it is all about, why those incidents took place. It was left to the viewers to try to grapple with the footage. As a viewer, a Manipuri residing in Delhi, I assume that what provoked the film maker would be the heighten protest in aftermath of the alledged rape and killing of Th. Manorama Devi in July 2004, more so the infamous “nude protest” as the narration gives much emphasis over it stating that it had caught national media attention. As for those who does not know much about Manipur, or mainland Indians at large, it would appear just a groups of angry young people, police firing protesters who defy the law or heartening nude protest of elderly women. The pictures do not leave otherwise the desired impact, definitely not to the mainland Indians. Or one wonders if the film maker intentionally wants opacity to remain.
The documentary was segregated into episodic parts; viz. Violence: the backyard of nationalism, The diaspora as periphery, Living on the edge, and On the notion of collateral. The first and foremost episode began with nationalism and separatist story. First beginning with the United National Liberation Front, a Meitei group, describe as a political movement and are fighting to regain self determination from the India state, its Chairman Sana Yaima giving an interview to the camera. On continuation the film narrated that the other millitant groups  who were categorically tribal groups “dislike” the Meitei group – viz. the Nagas, Kukis and the Zomis. As per the description in the film, these Meitei groups are exclusively supposed to be the people who inhabiting the then sovereign Manipur kingdom and subsequently the territorial boundary of todays’ Manipur state. The background narrative also states that these militant insurgent groups are fighting among themselves in a structured hierarchal order of Meitei militants fighting the “Indian State” for self determination, were in turn “fought” by the next larger group, the Nagas, who in turn is targetted by the Kukis, who are then targetted to by the Zomis. A chain of resistance by the smaller group upon the immediate bigger group is what is being shown. The chain goes to include the Paites, other sub group of the Zomi. This is rather simplistic and an over generalised statement. The film maker’s perceived notion that the smaller groups or the other communities inhabiting the “Meitei land” have no political standing are highly bias at several levels of the articulation. It shows lack of proper understanding of the complexity of identity claims and armed resistance movement associated with the same. All the armed militants or insurgents groups mentioned by Butalia have their own political ideologies and should be clubbed under a larger basket of the “non state.” In spite of the fact that inter – intra community rivalry may emerge in course of their political struggles, which is not so strange considering the multiplicity of ethnic groups and their aspirations, yet these should not be the “background introduction” of the “non state” movements which is primarily a political struggle, at least theoretically and ideologically.
This episode also tells about how youths are lured into the life of militants or militancy. This is a typical narrative of the statist discourse. There is nothing new in this representation, thus showing a case of old wine in new bottle. This episode also shows the “romantic” daily lives of the young militants. But the real life is quite different from the reel life, another form of stereotype representation. To this extent it shows some parallel with Bollywood films. While living underground in jungles with a gun is never a peaceful life, only a Bollywood film throws some excitement into the audience. Not only the militants suffer hardship, even their family members do face hardship in everyday life.
Another level of suffering is the sense of fear and tormant faced by the former (surrendered in fewcases) militants, their wives, and widows of the militants killed. They face discrimination at different levels. The fake encounter killing of Sanjit , a surrendered militant, at Imphal’s B.T. Road in July 2009 tell us that a militant is always a militant, an identity of no return. Emergence of organizations like Extrajudicial Execution Victims Association Manipur (EEVAM), Manipuri Women Gun Survivor Network, etc. say a lot about the life faced by the people associate with the movement. There is nothing extraordinarily exciting about their so called “romantic life.” This is yet again an attempt (perhaps deliberate) to reduce the entire politics of armed struggle into triviality of romance. Similar is the case where representation of child soldiers is made as victims. This in a way is to deny them as political actors.[i]
An interview of a “meira paibi” activist, Ima[ii] Taruni, was shown synchronised with several footages of violent incidents and protests, well crafted to delegitimise the movements. Ima Taruni speaks about one such incident before the camera where hundreds of women came out for a protest rally. This is followed by pictures of the incident she was supposedly speaking about. There was no background narration. The Ima said “at Thangmeiband THAU ground, we took out a protest rally… the police fired at us... many were killed…. Many injured... we ran helter skelter… many people jump into the river…. There were chaos and commotion… chappal (slippers) and clothes were scattered everywhere....” In the subtitle transcribed in English were these lines “… women left their clothes. They lost control of what they were wearing.” Connect this narrative with Kangla nude protest. The film maker seems to be delibeately planting this idea to the viewers that  Manipuri women have very little sense of dressing, as if dresses are easily thrown out or pulled out in an incident. So, protesting without clothes is an extension of their “casualness” about their dress. The film has done violence on sexuality of women by this projection of a stereotype image about Manipuri women. The meira paibis (torch bearers) women’s groups, widely acclaimed for their courage and roles in socio-political lives, were not even asked to give their opinion or views, but only recollections of an event like a protest or a violent incident. The film maker does all the interpretation. This is yet again a violence to the political sensibility of these women activists, giving the impression as if they are incapable of thinking and organising praxis.  
The issue of migation is also touched upon by the film maker. Migration of youth leaving home states, or for that matter home country, for greener pastures is nothing new. Migration from rural to urban centres (towns and city) is an all India phenomenon. Migration also takes place in non-conflict zones as well. For instance, migration of people from Bihar and Utter Pradesh to Mumbai is a case in point. In fact, migrations from non-conflict zones would be at times higher than migrations from conflict zones. This is an universal phenomenon. So migration of youths from a conflict zone like Manipur for higher studies and employment should not be seen only due to the push factor, but there are pull factors like job oportunities, wider facilities. Today migration from rural India to urban India is taking place cutting across region, ethnicity and violence. Migration phenomenon should be studied much more seriously.
A student supposedly studying in Delhi gave analysis of conflict, its impact and explanations of daily struggle in a metro city that does not welcome her. Her analysis and explanations appear to be based on the video footage from the same documentary film Manipur song, with some of the same words and phrases from the film. She is also shown to watch the same footages. The choice of charcter as respondent is pathetic.
An episode on the life of an ex militant turned drug users is shown to explain connection of militancy to drugs. This is but badly done. Though the interviews of the male addicts are shown under a “capacity building” workshop of an NGO, the focus is on family stories, their ignorance of joining miltancy, and hopelessness that led to drug abuse. This is a neat but poor script narating interconnection between militany and druge abuse – all that the film says is that militants engage with druge smuggling and in turn are victims themselves. Though there might be greater connection between the two, militant organizations’ drug trading has to do largely with procuring money to buy arms. And there are much larger issues involved in drug use and HIVAIDS, the case of broken family, social unrest, and role of family. Factors behind everything connected to drug abuse cannot be zeroed down to armed militancy. That is too simplistic a story.  
The episodes also tell the story of women commercial sex workers (CSW) cum drugs users living in shabby shelters in Imphal town ( the state capital) . While there is no officially notified “red light” areas in Manipur, nor CSW a visible population, the tailor made self confessional “bare show” of the life of sex workers and demonstration of their skills in drug use was strikingly odd. Suggestively, the names of the selected CSW women who confessed were called “lalli and heting” these names were not suffixed with “name changed” in the subtitle. Even if the names were changed, why not a Sunita or a Priyanka?
The incorrect translation of some of their dialogue do indicate the film maker’s presumption of what a CSW should be feeling or narrate before the camera. One of them said in native language “… when I look back, I feel nostalgic, or rather so to say… let down.” This is translated as “I now regret all that I have done in all my life.” This shows lack of sincerity and moral concern.
In as much prostitution is considered the oldest profession in the world, though forced into the trade, CSW does not necessarily regret their lives. Munni, CSW from Sonagachi, a red-light district in Kolkata in her interview with United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) when  asked whether she would like to leave the brothel, she said “… ‘Ma’ will never let me go and she is good to me and this is my home. She has promised to send me to Mumbai someday. I am here of my own will. Even if I leave this place where will I go? I have a secret lover and he used to be one of my regular customers. He is a taxi driver and we are planning to marry.”[iii]
A comparative look at the two episodes shows a gendered segregated treatment by the film maker. The militant turned drug addicts, all of them men, were at a rehabilitation camp, receiving treatment and training. While the women CSW comprised only of their personal or past lives, origin and background, dependency on drugs and their daily struggles. One of the men drug addict, identified as Kalachand, even went to the extent of pushing his mother to tell before the camera that without knowing the consequences she had paved the way for  his sons’ addiction. Wife of one of the ex militant turned drug addict was also made to “talk” about the HIVAIDS “status” of her addict husband.
The two episode interviews appeared more like a “confession” and a scripted dialogue. The male drug users spoke on issues they faced, first as militants then as surrendered militants and eventually as drug addict. The women sex workers cum drug addicts spoke before the camera about their life history, sex and drugs. They even demonstrated for the viewers on “intravenous drug use!”
The HIVAIDS scenario in Manipur is certainly disturbing. But it is simplistic and abrupt to just conclude a narrative with the story of a drug addict, commercial sex worker and story of HIV children. Jackindia,[iv] an organization working on HIVAIDS publishes that AIDS was first diagnosed in the United States in early ’80s,  but many still look to Africa for its origin, blaming African monkeys and African sexual behaviours. As per research the High Risk Group comprises of tribals, truck drivers and sex workers. As such Africa and India were labelled as the epicentre of AIDS and the world’s AIDS capital respectively. The publication also quoted the identification of High Risk Group in Kerala in 1996 by the  British Overseas Development Administration, now DfiD listing tribals, street children and sex workers.
Interestingly, Jackindia further states that in Kerala there were no street children per se and that sex workers were not a visible group. It also says that this process of identification of High Risk group is a creation of new untouchables. The publication strongly brings out the linkages of the statistics, research, health policies, intervention strategy of HIVAIDS and concludes that the whole business was a new mechanism of colonization. The dirty and ugly looking drug addicts or women sex workers are not mere collateral victims of conflict but are probable agencies of the new mechanism for colonization. Rather than sensitization or awareness, stories of children (all of them girls) who were staying at Sneha Bhawan would generate the formation of future generation of “untouchables.”
UNAIDS and NACO had listed three most important legal entities in regard to HIV scenario: (i) Right to Informed Consent/Privacy –  a legal and ethical concept related to access and use of data/personal information; (ii) Right to Confidentiality – right to protection and unauthorized use of data; and (iii) Right against Discrimination – regarding fundamental rights and entitlements.
In a discussion on films and film making, award winning filmmaker Sunzu Bachaspatimayum told this writer “… if you are showing CSW or HIV persons, HIV children, traffic victims, you need to have a signed consent from the person.” Explaining further the making of his national award winning film Shingnaba,  a film on HIVAIDS, Bachaspatimayum further said “… in one of the scene where the HIV person was to be shown with his girlfriend, the girlfriend agreed to come before the camera, but I shot her below the neck till the feet without showing her face. Again after the filming I showed her how it would look like. Later she asked me to delete her part from the film; so I deleted it.” Even in cases of informed consent he said “we blur it.” On receiving a national award for his film AFSPA 1958, Bachaspatimayum had reportedly said  that “for a non feature film or a documentary it requires in-depth understanding as well as sensitivity of the issue by the film maker.”[v]
Beside the bad boys, the dirty and ugly looking drug users, and shameless sex workers, presentation of Irom Sharmila was ironic. In the whole episode on “The passion of Sharmila,” the contents were only of emotions and personal moments. Sharmila’s role in the film looked scripted for the “crying scene.” A woman read her poem and cried. Sharmila herself was at the end in tears. Compare this with Gandhi and his determined and hardened soul. Often described as the icon of democracy and non-violence, Irom Sharmila was on the contrary asked to speak on “humanity, emotions, dreams,” none of her political thoughts came into the scene. This looks like a subtle and well crafted design of showing softer side ( rather the “feminine”) of Sharmila, a lady in tears. This in a way mallows down, if not delegitimise, fourteen years long fast for repeal of AFSPA and her political struggle of non-violence.
Stating that the government is taking no initiative for dialogue with Sharmila while many violent resistant movements are invited for “peace talks,” Civic Chandran, who scripted a one act play Meira Paibi, questioned, “… is it because Sharmila is an ordinary woman and from Northeast? Or is non-violence unromantic?”[vi]
The Manipur Song as a whole seems to be trying to sensitize “mainland India” on the whole range of issues that engulf Manipur. For a distant spectator, the 60 minute documentary appears to be mere collection of incidents, social evils, the “bad” and the “ugly.” Presentation of women particularly scenes in the “Notion of collateral” makes an uncomfortable viewing, provoking viewers to question ethical and sensitive dimensions. The introduction rightly states that “the nature of the conflict is so complex that it is difficult to portray a clear cause and effect relatonship.” Neither a clear message for the audience nor an insightful analysis of the issues in question, one wonders whose interest the film is going to serve. The episodes lack interconnections and linkages. The documentary film affirms mainland India’s patriarchal indifference to the stories of the margins. 
Notes & References

[i]  This is from Meha Dixit’s writing “Dirty looking stones,” Hard News, September 2010.
[ii] The term “Ima” meaning “mother” is usually used to address the women activists with a sense of respect.
[iii] Sonagachi, the largest legal red light district in Kolkata shot to fame after a documentary Born into Brothels: Calcutta’s Red Light Kids won the Academy Award in 2004. Source: UNODC website,
accessed during September 2010.
[iv] See Jackindia, “HIV–AIDS Industry,” 2002.
[v]  As stated in The Sangai Express, March 19, 2010.
[vi] The questions were raised by Civic Chandran at a performance of the play Meira Paibi based on the life of Sharmila in Delhi in May 2010. For details see, The North East Sun, June 16–30, 2010.