Dilli, mere dost, tu ne mujhe bauhut dhoka diya. When I found out I would be staying in Delhi for two months this summer, I was filled with excitement and anticipation. It was March. My mouth watered for my grandma's chutney, my feet ached to dance with my guruji again, and my heart warmed thinking about all of the shenanigans I was going to get into with my cousins. This time I was going on my own, no mom to stay and check up on me; I would be in the lovingly naive care of my grandparents. I figured it would be easy to get out and do fun things, especially with such a great internship in a fantastic area of Delhi. It was May when I found out that a friend of mine in Delhi, whom I had at one time considered as more than a friend, was on trial for the rape and murder of a girl named Neha. Neha. It completely blindsided me; how could someone so sweet and caring have done such a thing? I mean, he enjoyed jazz music and we bonded over Chopin Nocturnes! He is 20 years old; yet his DNA was found all over the crime scene - his university's cancer research lab. The incident shook me to my core, but I wouldn't turn back. Throughout the months prior, I had been keeping tabs on where I was going to live for the summer; when I read about the 5 year old girl who was raped with a candlestick holder, I curled into fetal position and cried for three hours. But by the time I was boarding the plane, I had been desensitized again. I know Delhi; I'm a strong, street-smart woman who's been coming here for years. What's going to happen to me? I know that here everyone's expecting some story about how I was attacked by some shady man at night but that's not what brutalized me. It was you, Delhi. You did this to me. You made me hate you. You made me never want to come back.You made me subconsciously create a mental block of my time there in order to stay sane since I have returned. Do you want to know how you did it? It wasn't just the rape culture, or society's cold war against women. It wasn't the unreliable electricity, daily battles with corrupt vendors, or obnoxious young professionals that crowded the bars. It was everything that India is not anymore; that sensibility-which made my parents, your children, proud of their roots-has been warped beyond recognition. The few sacred spaces of music and arts - Kamani Auditorium, Gandharva Mahavidyalaya - seem like all that is left of the old beauty. It's as if you peaked a thousand years ago. I bet that here you'll stop me, Delhi. You'll say, it's the West's fault! Those shameless Westerners have corrupted our beautiful nation with their drinking and drugs and internet porn! But here's a thing: while the influence of the West has definitely increased the openness of these "vices" (I know you hate to admit it, but they were already all inside of you, just hiding in the woodwork), the West also takes very strong steps to control these things. There are AA programs, pervasive safe-sex campaigns, education that is so far-reaching that even pre-schoolers know how bad drugs are. Why are the 20-somethings making a game out of drunk driving because policemen aren't allowed to stop a female driver at night if they do not have a female officer with them? You haven't figured out a way to deal with this yet- you're still busy pointing fingers and condemning the actions too feverishly to start taking back control. But wait, you'll say, we have overpopulation and a difficult climate and people are starving. Yes, they are. But where is the $120 billion of foreign aid going? How is it that these influential organizations set up in grand complexes claim to make a difference but the moment one walks outside, some thousands of your people can be seen living in tarp-covered tents? And what about your middle class, Delhi? The way they talk and live is as if there should be an entire society of people below them. Your toddlers are growing up with laddoo-stuffed mouths ordering servants around without so much as a "please", because "servants have gotten so disobedient and shaitan". When I tried to explain my discomfort with seeing so many people in such destitution, do you know what one of yours told me? She said to me, " Oh, don't worry about. You'll get used to it eventually." But Delhi, I don't want to get used to it. Do you really want the people who have the means to help your most needy to adopt a policy of blissful ignorance? How long do you want this system of suffocating others to clamber up the hierarchy to continue? Because honestly, it doesn't seem like you want very much to change. You'll say, I am Dilli. I am the capital of the country, and have history oozing from my open sweaty pores. And I will carry on tradition. Because Indian people are traditional, and we will not change our traditions. "Tradition". It's a word we throw around a lot in India and as Indians abroad. But Delhi, you have a responsibility as the capital. The rest of the country looks to you for guidance. Which of these traditions do you want to preserve? That a single woman must write her parents' name on a human resources form, and if married, her husband's name as her guardian? That women are to be masturbated at while on a bus, or stared at like pieces of meat when walking through a shop, or followed out of the office because she makes eye contact? Must you display a family's wealth in jewelry for everyone to see, critique, and one-up at the wedding ceremony of a daughter who is betrothed to someone she cannot stand? When did the tradition start that a doctor would not explicitly tell a woman that she has a sexually-transmitted infection in order to "punish" her? I'm doing everything I can. Well, Delhi, I call bullshit. You are not doing everything you can because you aren't even willing to admit half of the things that are wrong with you. You're old enough, you should be able to take criticism. They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks. But you have at your disposal a fresh generation of young adults that have the capability of influencing change. If you can get their heads out of their asses, it would be great. Get them to look around at where they are- there's much, much more to Delhi than the hottest bars at Hauz Khas Village and dinner at the Ashoka. Tell them to step out of their AC cars and actually feel the stress and anger and resentment that is palpable on the streets because of the capacious income gap. I'm telling you all of this as a friend, and because I care about you. My mouth still waters, my feet still ache, my heart still swells thinking of you. But I cannot come back until something has changed; maybe it will be you, maybe I'll grow "thicker skin". I know that I'm asking a lot of you, but given your past ability to adapt and change with the eras, I think it's time you started on this one. Pyaar ke saath, Neha | Hi Neha, While I can appreciate your opinion and insight into the multiple ‘evils’ of Delhi, I also think that it is important to acknowledge the vivacity of a city that can not be categorized in a purely good-bad binary. Yes, Delhi has a long way to go, particularly in the realm of women empowerment. And to be fair, this issue is beyond just Delhi, to India, and albeit less documented, to many other regions of the world. This does not make it okay by any means but it is important to understand and acknowledge the many complicated social layers that make this city what it is. As someone born and brought up there, I have seen Delhi through its worst and best times. Yes, we have a long way to go but not recognizing the leaps and bounds that have been made would be unfair to the people of the city that do care and who are not drowning in the obnoxious new-money paradigm that is mentioned. Delhi, just like much of India, is truly a place of infinite paradoxes. While new-money may be flashy, it is underpinned by the glowing entrepreneurial spirit of its people. A group of hard endearing workers in the poorest of conditions. While rape and corruption seem to dominate the media agenda these days, it is being met with some of the most heartrending social movements of Delhi’s history. The whole city is in a flux of rage and anger. Delhi is taking initiative while many other cities and countries remain silent on the issue. Delhi, to me, is a reflection of a country in flux and transit. It is a city undergoing rapid urbanization being met with a surge in migratory populations. Education is spreading. Women are going to school. Housewives are taking the initiative to work. Culture is thriving – not only in forms of art – but every street corner you turn is a new story of culture, struggle, people, empathy and endurance. Where groups of all classes, religions etc form to share their daily cups of tea. Where people, with just enough to feed themselves, share their rotis with stray dogs. This is the heart and soul of Delhi that our vicious media cycle too often leaves out. And I think that, while the battle against rape and corruption has a lot to yet achieve, it is happening. And it’s happening in the heartrending city of Delhi. - Zara |
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Hi Neha,
While I can appreciate your opinion and insight into the multiple ‘evils’ of Delhi, I also think that it is important to acknowledge the vivacity of a city that can not be categorized in a purely good-bad binary. Yes, Delhi has a long way to go, particularly in the realm of women empowerment. And to be fair, this issue is beyond just Delhi, to India, and albeit less documented, to many other regions of the world. This does not make it okay by any means but it is important to understand and acknowledge the many complicated social layers that make this city what it is. As someone born and brought up there, I have seen Delhi through its worst and best times. Yes, we have a long way to go but not recognizing the leaps and bounds that have been made would be unfair to the people of the city that do care and who are not drowning in the obnoxious new-money paradigm that is mentioned. Delhi, just like much of India, is truly a place of infinite paradoxes. While new-money may be flashy, it is underpinned by the glowing entrepreneurial spirit of its people. A group of hard endearing workers in the poorest of conditions. While rape and corruption seem to dominate the media agenda these days, it is being met with some of the most heartrending social movements of Delhi’s history. The whole city is in a flux of rage and anger. Delhi is taking initiative while many other cities and countries remain silent on the issue. Delhi, to me, is a reflection of a country in flux and transit. It is a city undergoing rapid urbanization being met with a surge in migratory populations. Education is spreading. Women are going to school. Housewives are taking the initiative to work. Culture is thriving – not only in forms of art – but every street corner you turn is a new story of culture, struggle, people, empathy and endurance. Where groups of all classes, religions etc form to share their daily cups of tea. Where people, with just enough to feed themselves, share their rotis with stray dogs. This is the heart and soul of Delhi that our vicious media cycle too often leaves out. And I think that, while the battle against rape and corruption has a lot to yet achieve, it is happening. And it’s happening in the heartrending city of Delhi. - Zara Click here to see open letter and response side by side Dilli, mere dost,
tu ne mujhe bauhut dhoka diya. When I found out I would be staying in Delhi for two months this summer, I was filled with excitement and anticipation. It was March. My mouth watered for my grandma's chutney, my feet ached to dance with my guruji again, and my heart warmed thinking about all of the shenanigans I was going to get into with my cousins. This time I was going on my own, no mom to stay and check up on me; I would be in the lovingly naive care of my grandparents. I figured it would be easy to get out and do fun things, especially with such a great internship in a fantastic area of Delhi. It was May when I found out that a friend of mine in Delhi, whom I had at one time considered as more than a friend, was on trial for the rape and murder of a girl named Neha. Neha. It completely blindsided me; how could someone so sweet and caring have done such a thing? I mean, he enjoyed jazz music and we bonded over Chopin Nocturnes! He is 20 years old; yet his DNA was found all over the crime scene - his university's cancer research lab. The incident shook me to my core, but I wouldn't turn back. Throughout the months prior, I had been keeping tabs on where I was going to live for the summer; when I read about the 5 year old girl who was raped with a candlestick holder, I curled into fetal position and cried for three hours. But by the time I was boarding the plane, I had been desensitized again. I know Delhi; I'm a strong, street-smart woman who's been coming here for years. What's going to happen to me? I know that here everyone's expecting some story about how I was attacked by some shady man at night but that's not what brutalized me. It was you, Delhi. You did this to me. You made me hate you. You made me never want to come back. You made me subconsciously create a mental block of my time there in order to stay sane since I have returned. Do you want to know how you did it? It wasn't just the rape culture, or society's cold war against women. It wasn't the unreliable electricity, daily battles with corrupt vendors, or obnoxious young professionals that crowded the bars. It was everything that India is not anymore; that sensibility-which made my parents, your children, proud of their roots-has been warped beyond recognition. The few sacred spaces of music and arts - Kamani Auditorium, Gandharva Mahavidyalaya - seem like all that is left of the old beauty. It's as if you peaked a thousand years ago. I bet that here you'll stop me, Delhi. You'll say, it's the West's fault! Those shameless Westerners have corrupted our beautiful nation with their drinking and drugs and internet porn! But here's a thing: while the influence of the West has definitely increased the openness of these "vices" (I know you hate to admit it, but they were already all inside of you, just hiding in the woodwork), the West also takes very strong steps to control these things. There are AA programs, pervasive safe-sex campaigns, education that is so far-reaching that even pre-schoolers know how bad drugs are. Why are the 20-somethings making a game out of drunk driving because policemen aren't allowed to stop a female driver at night if they do not have a female officer with them? You haven't figured out a way to deal with this yet- you're still busy pointing fingers and condemning the actions too feverishly to start taking back control. But wait, you'll say, we have overpopulation and a difficult climate and people are starving. Yes, they are. But where is the $120 billion of foreign aid going? How is it that these influential organizations set up in grand complexes claim to make a difference but the moment one walks outside, some thousands of your people can be seen living in tarp-covered tents? And what about your middle class, Delhi? The way they talk and live is as if there should be an entire society of people below them. Your toddlers are growing up with laddoo-stuffed mouths ordering servants around without so much as a "please", because "servants have gotten so disobedient and shaitan". When I tried to explain my discomfort with seeing so many people in such destitution, do you know what one of yours told me? She said to me, " Oh, don't worry about. You'll get used to it eventually." But Delhi, I don't want to get used to it. Do you really want the people who have the means to help your most needy to adopt a policy of blissful ignorance? How long do you want this system of suffocating others to clamber up the hierarchy to continue? Because honestly, it doesn't seem like you want very much to change. You'll say, I am Dilli. I am the capital of the country, and have history oozing from my open sweaty pores. And I will carry on tradition. Because Indian people are traditional, and we will not change our traditions. "Tradition". It's a word we throw around a lot in India and as Indians abroad. But Delhi, you have a responsibility as the capital. The rest of the country looks to you for guidance. Which of these traditions do you want to preserve? That a single woman must write her parents' name on a human resources form, and if married, her husband's name as her guardian? That women are to be masturbated at while on a bus, or stared at like pieces of meat when walking through a shop, or followed out of the office because she makes eye contact? Must you display a family's wealth in jewelry for everyone to see, critique, and one-up at the wedding ceremony of a daughter who is betrothed to someone she cannot stand? When did the tradition start that a doctor would not explicitly tell a woman that she has a sexually-transmitted infection in order to "punish" her? I'm doing everything I can. Well, Delhi, I call bullshit. You are not doing everything you can because you aren't even willing to admit half of the things that are wrong with you. You're old enough, you should be able to take criticism. They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks. But you have at your disposal a fresh generation of young adults that have the capability of influencing change. If you can get their heads out of their asses, it would be great. Get them to look around at where they are- there's much, much more to Delhi than the hottest bars at Hauz Khas Village and dinner at the Ashoka. Tell them to step out of their AC cars and actually feel the stress and anger and resentment that is palpable on the streets because of the capacious income gap. I'm telling you all of this as a friend, and because I care about you. My mouth still waters, my feet still ache, my heart still swells thinking of you. But I cannot come back until something has changed; maybe it will be you, maybe I'll grow "thicker skin". I know that I'm asking a lot of you, but given your past ability to adapt and change with the eras, I think it's time you started on this one. Pyaar ke saath, Neha I saw this article on Buzzfeed about the racist responses to Nina Davuluri winning Miss America (which obviously means she's American). Sometimes reading things like this makes me cringe. Aside from the lack of geographical knowledge that is clearly plaguing these Twitter users, the fact that any positive step forward by a minority is immediately associated with acts of terrorism is just astounding. The level of ignorance surrounding different ideologies and cultures never fails to shock me. I understand that I'm in a privileged position at a great university, but I don't think a little simple reading would hurt anyone. I love America, but sometimes...
As many of you already know, this past Tuesday, 4 men were found guilty of the gangrape and murder of Nirbhaya. To read about the trial, click here. Sentencing for the four men has been delayed until friday. The court will then decide whether the death penalty will be in play for the 4 convicts. To read about the prosecution (pro death penalty) and defense's (anti death penalty) arguments, click here.
The BBC polled various Indian writers, activists and lawyers and posted their responses. The article is an interesting insight into how people think India has changed since last December. When India played England in the Champion’s Trophy final, Birmingham’s Edgbaston stadium was packed to the brim with Indian fans. What should have been England’s home field advantage was quickly turned against them, as England’s large Indian population streamed into the stadium to support the nation of their origin.
The majority of this Indian population came to the United Kingdom through East Africa, as many families had left the subcontinent either searching for opportunity in Uganda, Tanzania and Kenya, or as indentured railway laborers (for the African train line being built by the British). Whilst some of the East African Indian families have migrated to the UK from Tanzania and Kenya, a large number came from Uganda after being expelled from the country by dictator Idi Amin. They were granted entry to the UK if they held a British passport, which many did, as Uganda was once a British territory. My dad was one of many Indians to be expelled at the time, but his family had retained their British passports so they were granted free passage to the UK. Upon coming to England, my father remained in touch with many of his friends, whom we still see once a year. At this year’s annual meeting, one of his friends approached me in a somewhat drunken stupor. He sat me down and he asked me the following question: “Ravi, have you heard of a man by the name of Prafulbhai Patel?” I quickly replied no, and my uncle embarked on his anecdote. Prafulbhai Patel, it turns out, was the representative of the 30,000 Indians living in Uganda. These 30,000 Indians powered the Ugandan economy during the 1960s. This is a commonly accepted fact. In 1972, when Idi Amin decided to expel all South Asians and therefore shoot his country’s economy in the foot, Prafulbhai Patel went to India at the behest of the South Asian community to meet Indira Gandhi. At his meeting with Indiraji, Prafulbhai requested the repatriation of the 30,000 Indians who would soon be homeless. After all, these were hardworking, smart men, many of whom had first gone to Uganda as indentured laborers. Surely India would take them back. Prafulbhai’s hope was quickly shot down as President Gandhi firmly refused his request. With no hope of returning to India, the Ugandan–Indian population had few options. Those of whom at the time of independence had retained British passports could move to the UK. Those who had decided to take Ugandan passports were forced to seek asylum in the few countries (mostly the Netherlands and Canada) that would accept them. The story of Prafulbhai is somewhat a folktale, an oral history passed down through Ugandan immigrants. There is no written account of his story, but many Indian immigrants from the horn of Africa seem to corroborate this story. A quick search on Google finds a brief biography detailing his work with the British government, but nothing with India. Still, his story-if true-carries a big significance. Let us return now to Birmingham and the India vs. England game. I wonder, if these people were aware of Prafulbhai Patel’s request and subsequent troubles, would they still be supporting India? Or would England fans have packed the stadium instead? - Ravi |