Notes
Urbanism and sub-national identity
FAR too many of us carry negative perceptions about young Biharis, believing them to be ill-equipped for jobs in government or the modern sector. In a recent selection process for hiring child development project officers (in which the author served as an expert), I was pleasantly surprised by both the self-confidence and knowledge base of many of the candidates, including those from less privileged backgrounds and hailing from mofussil areas, more so given the veritable breakdown of higher education in Bihar. Nevertheless, I was both intrigued and disturbed by their complete innocence about the cultural moorings of the state. Even those belonging to the home district of Ramdhari Singh ‘Dinkar’, declared the national poet by Jawaharlal Nehru, seemed never to have heard of him, far less remember any of his poems.
This presents a sharp contrast to neighbouring Bengal, where everyone seems able to recite Tagore’s poetry, if not claim competence in rendering Rabindra sangeet. It is widely believed that a girl’s prospects in the matrimonial market depends upon her ability to sing Tagore’s songs and, even if she hails from a privileged background, a failure on this front is seen as a disqualification. So ingrained is the world of Tagore in the psyche of the Bengali bhadralok that even chief ministers are rated on their ability to recite Rabindra Babu’s poetry.
The shallowness of an urban culture would have remained a curious oddity were it not for the associated negative implications. Fragile cultural moorings contribute to an absence of regional identity, if not pride, critical if a region has to progress. Above all, cultural foundations are crucial in the making of a confident middle class, one which is deeply linked to the rest of the populace and can thus play an important leadership role. In modern India, the development of an urban culture can either be traced to the older court culture of the princely states or to social movements like the Bengal renaissance. In either case the emerging culture spread from urban centres.
It is true that this spread was uneven in both reach and depth and unlike the experience in Europe, the process in India remained stunted, at least in the North and East. In contrast, the non-Brahmin movements in the South and West were both all-encompassing and democratic. No wonder the spread of a modern urban culture, drawing not only on the region’s past but also on larger global influences, is more marked in those regions. It is worth remembering that the cognitive world of Tipu Sultan was not confined to the geographic limits of Mysore state but drew heavily on the French outlook, particularly in matters related to banking and the military.
The composite culture in North India, decisively influenced by the period of Mughal rule, gained prominence through the 19th and 20th centuries. While both khari boli and Urdu helped bring together the diverse peoples of the North, the emerging culture lacked crucial elements of urbanity. Fortunately, Gandhi, though a proponent of rural India, realized this weakness and chose Nehru, a textbook representative of composite culture and urbanity, as his successor. In Nehru, we saw a creative confluence of the urban/modern universal, national and regional cultural streams as exemplified in his continuous effort to both draw on and nurture regional cultural identity. It is no cultural coincidence that Nehru, and the leaders of the national movement, relied on Tagore to script our national anthem.
The cultural superstructure is essentially dependent on the social chemistry of a given geographic expression, euphemistically referred to as a nation state or a provincial state. The process of consolidating a cultural identity often takes decades, if not centuries, and draws upon multiple streams including movements for social inclusion and reform. Fortunately, the process in India has remained open-ended and plural, creating an enabling space for regional sentiments while attempting to craft an inclusive pan-Indian identity. This is why, despite the simultaneous existence of national and regional centres of cultural and social gravity, the freedom movement was unusually free of internal strife.
Unfortunately Bihar, as also several other regions of the Hindi heartland, despite their seminal contribution to the first war of independence of 1857 and the anti-colonial struggle against the British, never quite succeeded in acquiring a distinct regional identity. Bihar, in fact, appeared the most disadvantaged in this respect. Though formally a part of the Bengal Presidency, culturally and ideologically it fell in the catchment area of Benaras, a centre of orthodox revivalism. It was thus unable to take advantage of the modern institutions created by the Raj or experience the emergence of a class of English speaking and trained intelligentsia. It is instructive that the Darbhanga Maharaj, the largest zamindar in the country, did not establish a single institution of modern knowledge creation, though he did patronize several institutions and individuals located elsewhere, and helped set up a formidable library.
It is also instructive that Bihar, unlike other Hindi heartland regions, did not have a single, authentic Princely state. In neighbouring Uttar Pradesh, the emerging plebeian culture had to contend with the cultural constructs of Wajid Ali Shah symbolizing an evolved urban and urbane culture. No similar process marked Bihar. The simultaneous absence of both an urban or a traditional cultural centre may provide some clues as to why the post-independence political/administrative elite never felt the need to create alternative symbols and sites of their favoured cultural and ideological expression. So Bihar has neither a Bharat Bhavan, set up by Arjun Singh to challenge the cultural hegemony of the Begum of Bhopal nor even a Lohia or Ambedkar sthal as promoted by a Mulayam Singh Yadav or Mayawati. Finally, the absence of an all-encompassing social movement has meant that a Bihari has only two identities – the more vigorous one around caste and a weak, abstract national identity. What it lacks is a coherent and vibrant provincial identity.
Possibly this is why, despite the dramatic changes in the political sphere, there is little support and demand for modern institutions which could help promote a culture of urbanity – one which can take legitimate pride in its past and simultaneously draw on and build upon developments elsewhere. Such a process cannot be sustained by a mere demographic expansion in urban areas. What it demands is a revival and resurgence of old and new centres of learning such that the young Bihari, confident about his/her place in the modern world, also remembers his Dinkar or a Phanishwar Nath Renu.
Shaibal Gupta
Children are our present
EVEN as a spate of legislations, media reports and judicial interventions refocus attention on the distressing phenomenon of child labour and the need to protect the rights of the child, children can be seen everywhere – on the streets, working in roadside dhabas, selling water and gutka on railway stations and bus stops. We claim to be concerned, but do we really see them?
Take the case of children who provide cheap labour and are employed in a variety of enterprises, not just in Bihar but in big cities all across India. Even those as young as eight years are forced to work for fourteen to fifteen hours a day, including in occupations classified as hazardous under the Child Labour (Prohibition and Regulation) Act.
Saddam (name changed) is all of twelve years. He belongs to a district of North Bihar. His parents initially received some money when the boy was taken by the seth to Mumbai. Even after working for two years, he is not sure whether his family actually received any further payments. The police, along with members of voluntary organizations, raided the udyog where he was working and he was sent to the children’s home in Mumbai. Subsequently, Saddam was sent back to Patna where the Child Welfare Committee arranged for his repatriation to his home district.
A majority of migrant children belong to the districts of Sitamarhi, Samastipur, Darbhanga, Katihar and Kishanganj of North Bihar. In the absence of opportunities for growth and development, most parents prefer to send children to work in distant places. Even if there is no immediate monetary gain, this is seen as a period of apprenticeship, paving the path to future employment. Needless to add that there are no reliable estimates of the children forced to migrate, nor has any such exercise been initiated. All we know is that most out of school children are actual or potential child labourers.
According to the 2001 Census, Bihar accounts for 8.9% of the child labour in India in the age group of 5 to 14 years. With 5.4 lakh children in the category of main workers and an additional 5.8 lakh engaged in marginal work, Bihar is the largest supplier of children as cheap labour. Although the figures vary from one survey to another, it is generally acknowledged that thousands of children in Bihar are engaged and exploited as domestic servants, in workshops, plantations and factories, often subjected to inhuman conditions.
Fortunately, after the directive of the Supreme Court including the hospitality sector which employs a large number of children in the category of hazardous occupations, the government drew up a plan of action for eradication of child labour. Its execution, however, leaves much to be desired and attempts to rescue children from work remain feeble. Compensation to children who have been released, as spelt out in the Child Labour (Prohibition and Regulation Act), 1986 is rarely awarded. Little surprise that children who are restored to their families soon find their way back to the large metropolis and the cycle continues.
When the cracker factory in Khusrupur (Patna district) went up in flames, resulting in the death of children working in the factory, the government feigned ignorance and went on record to claim that there were no children. PUCL Bihar then held an enquiry and drew up a list of children employed in the factory who had lost their lives. This was followed up through a PIL. Despite court directives to the state government, the situation remained almost unchanged. More recently, however, the government has initiated a scheme to place all children in the age group of six to fourteen in school. Special programmes for the education of the girl child too have been launched by the government. Hopefully, improvement of school infrastructure, hiring new teachers and the preparation of a draft curriculum framework for school education should yield positive results.
The phrase ‘child in need of care and protection’ draws attention to the Juvenile Justice Act 2000. Chapter 3 of the act is devoted entirely to such children and foregrounds the role of society in the care and protection of neglected children. Though the Bihar rules were notified in 2002, yet the overall situation has hardly changed. There are few institutions for the care and development of neglected and challenged children – children’s homes, night shelters, drop-in centres. The entire state of Bihar has only two children’s home for boys in Patna and Begusarai, and just one for girls at Gaighat in Patna. Till recently all categories of children were kept at one place in Gaighat in gross violation of the JJ Act. Thankfully a new home called Apna Ghar with all kinds of facilities for neglected children has recently been commissioned, but once again minus requisite staff.
Girls’ homes in particular continue to be in a complete mess, with girls of all ages thrown into one place, and then forgotten. The Uttar Raksha Grih of Gaighat, for instance, is forced to accommodate both categories of girls – those in need of care and protection and those in conflict with law. The courts even send the girls who were married-off by parents against their will or abducted to this institution. Many of them languish there for months even though there are no cases against them. Destitute women, including those suffering from diseases or mentally deranged, too land up in this strange, hellish environment in the name of custody and care.
So much for the facilities of institutional care in the state, which remains deficient in many respects. Though there can be no substitute for the family and one should strive for de-institutionalising child care, the state must be persuaded to own up to its responsibility where the family structure has broken down and children abandoned.
Chintu Kumar (name changed) belongs to Islampur in the Nalanda district. Chintu sold water bottles at the railway station. He was taken by the police to the Children’s Home run by the government. Though a social worker was able to locate his mother, she was reluctant to take him back as she had remarried and the father had migrated to Delhi where he too had married again. Chintu’s brothers had also left home to earn their own livelihood. Chintu and many like him, therefore, need shelter, food and opportunities like other children to grow up into responsible citizens.
Though the JJ Act has a separate section on the rehabilitation of children through adoption and foster care, the state has still to set up the institutions and processes to look after abandoned children. With few institutions which are recognized by the Central Adoption Resource Agency (CARA), the situation has become critical. There are far too many gaps in the system for proper rehabilitation which come in the way of facilitating adoption, often the only solution for abandoned and in-distress children. Of course, the entire responsibility cannot and should not be borne by government alone and there is need for concerned individuals, voluntary groups and corporate houses to come forward. Possibly, with a greater participation of women in panchayats, we can hope that the social environment will turn more child-friendly.
Far too many of our policy-makers and even child rights activists focus on the plight of street children. No wonder our programmes and institutional arrangements continue to neglect the much larger numbers in the villages, many of whom are forced to join the ranks of migrant working children in cities elsewhere. This is why well-publicised campaigns in places like Mumbai and Delhi to rescue and repatriate rescued children are no solution; the problem will have to be tackled at the source. Better educational facilities in villages, more opportunities of employment for the poor parents, better systems of social security are needed to help the child stay and grow in her own native setting, rather than lead a vagabond life from a tender age.
Equally, the health status of children too is a cause of major worry. According to NFHS-2 (1998-99) 81.1% children in the age group 5-35 months were anaemic; ironically their numbers grew to 87.6% in NFHS-3 (2005-06). Likewise the percentage of children under three years who were underweight increased from 54.3% to 58.4%. Essentially this is a reflection of the non-availability of primary health care facilities in Bihar and the inefficient and inadequate delivery through schemes like ICDS or mid-day meals. Rampant poverty is of course a compounding factor. The state has only 398 PHCs against the 2700 required according to current national norms.
Hopefully, a strengthened panchayat system can be encouraged to keep track of every child. It is only at this level that effective child tracking is possible and reliable figures of children in need compiled. With the introduction of new schemes for social security viz. the National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme, families in need might have access to larger resources to take care of children.
For far too long both state and society have neglected children, as a result of which the problem has assumed serious proportions. Their continuing neglect can only jeopardize our future.
Daisy Narain
