The exploitative chain

MRINAL PANDE

JUST as Huen-Tsang and Marco Polo lived in the age of great geographic discoveries when each expedition down the (silk or spice) route altered the picture of the entire world, today we live in the age of great political discoveries where newer and newer inside stories come up all the time, about how our democratic institutions and elections are being run and fought and won. It is a fascinating time, when we have simultaneous access to the Tehelka, Ketan Parekh and Verma disclosures, as also the Jan Sunwai (public hearings) arranged by NGOs in Rajasthan. There are occasions when the spirit of the times seems to be soporofic and moments when unexpectedly people stand up to the system, and take off in a bold and risky flight, away from proffered suitcases, plum jobs and fake affidavits. Such defiance stirs our imagination and energises us, when little else does.

A month or so ago, this columnist visited a research centre cum campus, known as the Shodhgram, in Gadhchiroli district of Maharashtra. It was founded by an NGO, SEARCH (Society for Action and Research in Community Health). This body carried a laudable campaign there from 1988 to 1993, which led to a ban on the sale and consumption of distilled liquor. They were assisted by an informal alliance of individuals and groups known as the Daru- mukti Sanghatana. Today, apart from a hospital cum research centre, SEARCH also runs a de-addiction centre, and provides residential therapy for alcoholics. It claims a success rate of 58 per cent, which is high by any standards.

Enter the government, following a visit by the Chief Minister, who was said to have left hugely impressed with the de-addiction work and said that it needed to be replicated in other districts as well. Soon after this, Dr. Abhay Bang and Dr. Rani Bang, (the founders of SEARCH) were contacted by the department of Tribal Development. Gadhchiroli district has a large Adivasi population, and a high addiction rate. A special five-day de-addiction camp, it was proposed, should be held for the local Adivasis by a team from SEARCH. The department for Tribal Development would make all the necessary arrangements for identifying and procuring the local addicts. The team was duly sent.

The next day the team returned fuming. This is the gist of what they told this columnist.

There was no one at the offices of the said department, when the SEARCH team arrived. They then went to the hostel for tribals, the Adivasi Ashram, and asked the watchman there where they were to go. He knew nothing either, but agreed to help them look for the all-knowing sahib who had sent for them. It turned out that sahib was at a meeting. After three hours, two lower officials came and told them that arrangements had been made for their board and lodgings for five days at the Adivasi Ashram.

"That's fine, but where are the patients?"

"Ah, you mean the Laabharthis (beneficiaries)? Don't worry, we'll locate them by and by. We have already asked someone to grab ten troublemakers from the village who have been abusing our sahib. Under threat of arrest, they will gladly give a signed affidavit that they have been successfully de-addicted. That is all that you need."

"No, it is not. We need real addicts, and need to talk and work with them."

"Kai farakk padto? (What difference does it make?) We need only a certain number of signatures on paper for that. For the next camp we will tell the peon to contact the group of tribals whom we had given a trip to Mumbai for that tribal dance performance. Meanwhile this time you just stay, have a good time for five days. The draft is ready. At the end of it, you will get signed affidavits of de-addiction from local men, and collect the cheque from the Tehsil HQ."

The appalled SEARCH team called up their head office. They were told not to give in to the officials, but assert their agenda. But by the time they returned, the local functionaries too were gone. "There was a pooja in their house," the chowkidar said, "they are family men you see and must attend to social duties."

The SEARCH team contacted the Tehsil office, and were once again told not to worry:

"Didn't get the draft? Ok, do anything, eat, sleep, walk about for the time being, and collect it in the morning. You can then go."

"We are leaving now. This is ridiculous."

"But madam, you can't do that. What will become of the two-crore grant that we have received in your name? We have been told that this programme has to be done only in collaboration with you. You see, orders from above we cannot change. Unless you take your share we cannot process the grant. You have to collect the cheque."

Speechless, the team just drove back.

To cynics, this little incident may seem very much in keeping with what is happening elsewhere in the villages of India. In Delhi, Calcutta, Mumbai or Chennai, we have mostly come to have a one dimensional view of the corrupt village functionaries that matches our sentimentality towards development work. We extract the bits that attract or horrify us, and pretend that there is no other reality. But these government functionaries are neither good nor bad men; just some of the thousands of government employees who must subsist in the moral and physical decay that have come to mark the institutions of the State today. They are not alienated from society, and are in touch rationally and emotionally with local customs and beliefs. But they also realise that orders "from above" must be obeyed even if they are motivated by considerations other than the welfare of the poor. There is little point in explaining to them that bribe giving and taking are criminal offences. They know that. But they will tell you at every step in their careers, they have been asked to pay bribes: for appointments and confirmations and postings. When the higher-ups visit the villages from Mumbai or district headquarters, they are also expected among other things to procure daru (liquor) and murgi (chicken). Why should they not try, when they get the chance, to square up the deal? Everyone in India is a family man (or woman) with growing children. So everyone carries the exploitative chain forward. Till a team like SEARCH's refuses to collect its cheque. Then all hell breaks loose.

The real criminals watch all this from above and condemn the rot in public morals aloud. They know, the officials know, everybody in the villages knows they are not going to the jail even after the intelligence agencies and lower courts in the land have indicted them.Meanwhile the search for someone to pick up the cheques for tribal labharthis' de-addiction camps in Maharashtra goes on.

The author is a fiction writer in Hindi and English and a freelance journalist.

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