Nauseating adult hypocrisy
vidyarthy chatterjee
TO resume from where I left off, with the commencement of Ganesh Chaturthi on 19 September, the festive season will have arrived. In no time, Diwali, the so-called Festival of Lights, which has over the years degenerated into more ear-splitting sound and accompanying rowdyism than light to dispel the darkness of ignorance and injustice, will be upon us. The more level-headed will buy coloured matchsticks, sparklers and light crackers. In the midst of the mirth and the merriment, is it possible that we, with our respective families, will spare a moment for those children in Sivakasi and other places in Tamil Nadu who daily risk their lives to ensure our quota of fun? Maybe we will, but it will, at best, be a momentary thought, gone before it is allowed enough time to settle on our troubled middle-class conscience.
It is said that labour contractors supplying children to the match and fireworks factories examine their fingers closely before taking them on. The girl child with nimble fingers and supple arms is preferred because such limbs make for greater output. Can people with a more diabolical turn of mind, seeking profit in poverty and human misery, be imagined? Pained parents are on record in Chalam Bennurakar’s film, Kutty Japanin Kuzhandaigal, as saying they have no choice but to send their small ones to earn for the family. These are farming people who are at their wits’ end when the crops fail, mainly due to scarcity of rainwater. While the adults have to go to work in nearby stone quarries, the children supplement their parents’ income by risking their lives in the factories, which are nothing but deathtraps and infernos when fires break out. Each time there is an explosion, democracy and the rule of law, the twin pillars on which the Constitution is said to rest, take a beating. But things have come to such a pass that the machinations of the political class in particular and the indifference of society at large have combined to reduce Dr Ambedkar’s vision of equality and justice to nothing.
Nationwide adult hypocrisy, vis-à-vis children belonging to desperately poor families or to the streets, come to the fore most nauseatingly on “Bal Divas” or Children’s Day, observed every 14 November, “Chacha” Nehru’s birthday. The first Indian Prime Minister’s supposed love for children is commemorated in public gatherings, in newspaper columns and on television. The red rose on the lapel is no doubt a lovely sight, but how does one reconcile that spectacle with the grim reality of millions of blossoms withering in the dust for want of minimum sustenance? So much for rituals and ceremonies that have become hopelessly jaded for want of substance in the first place!
Mercifully, the periodic devastations in Sivakasi are noticed by the media, but equally condemnable is the unreported plight of child workers in other industries located in other parts of the country. According to a Unicef report dating back to 2003, nearly 1.5 million children are employed in hazardous occupations in the glass, carpet and lock-manufacturing industries in Uttar Pradesh which, incidentally, has the largest number of “people’s representatives” in Parliament. The most hazardous of these is the glass-making industry where more than 50,000 children below the age of 14 are employed in Ferozabad. It is a fact that the efforts of groups of social workers to alleviate the working and living conditions of these child workers have come to nought as a result of the exertions of the powerful “glass lobby” in the Uttar Pradesh Vidhan Sabha.
More than a quarter of a century ago a Kolkata filmmaker did a commissioned film on the Ferozabad glass industry where the inhumanity of the barons towards the helpless child workers had been so diluted as to produce a document sanitised beyond belief. By his own admission, the film’s director had left out shots of small boys unable to stand still on the floor of a factory on account of extreme heat. Asked why he had deleted such important shots, he blithely replied that the people who’d financed the film would not have allowed these to be included.
So much for the artistic independence and moral strength of our creative geniuses!
But if the record of the glass goons of Ferozabad is bad, that of the carpet cartels of Mirzapur is worse. According to the Unicef report, there were at least 900,000 children between five and 15 years of age employed in the carpet industry that mints hundreds of crores of rupees in profits every year from sales at home and abroad. The report was not certain about the number of children aged around five years employed in the industry, but said it was almost certain that the figure would run into hundreds of thousands. If this is the situation in a state that has produced a succession of Prime Ministers and Presidents, not to forget thousands of parliamentarians of all complexions and persuasions, what must be the scenario in the remote corners of the country.
Bennurakar has one shot in his Sivakasi film that speaks at least a thousand words about the plight of child slaves – child “workers” or child “labourers” are but euphemisms that one’s sense of morality should prevent one from using. The shot shows a statue of Gandhi at a village crossing in the Sivakasi area that has had to be encircled by a wall and kept locked, presumably in an effort to protect it from thieves or other malcontents. In a country where the Mahatma has to be rescued from the evil eye, what hope is there for thousands of his youngest children — many of them no higher than a hammer and no lighter than a flower — to be saved from the depredations of a system gone to seed?
Sivakasi is a nightmare that is not likely to go away for a long time to come for there are greedy, powerful people to nurse and perpetuate it.