Teen Deviyan

Great. Fantastic. A ‘Chick Thing’ happened on the way to the polls. And the women of India are meant to be dancing on the streets. But are they really? These powerful ladies will soon be parking their derrieres on seats so hot, they’d scorch less formidable bottoms. But our girls knew a long, long time ago that if you don’t like the heat, honey, stay out of the kitchen.
Their ‘kitchen’ is unique, of course, and what they cook up is unappetising only to their opponents. However, since they’ve obviously got the recipe for success, nobody can complain of indigestion, despite all that gas.
Meanwhile, what of the other, less privileged women of India? Does any of this mean anything to them? Will the present euphoria translate into a better life for the unwashed female masses of our country? Very unlikely. I doubt that Razia bi is ecstatic about the news. If anything, she must be worried. Razia bi? Who the hell is Razia bi?
Let me tell you. She’s a tiny gnome-like lady who has worked in our home for over 20 years. Id, this year was ‘‘celebrated’’ without me. When I got back, I wished her warmly. Instead of greeting me with an extended, thumbless hand (she lost that all-important digit in an accident a long time ago), she started to weep. What’s the matter, I asked, slightly startled by the unexpected outburst. ‘‘My jhopdi got burnt on the eve of Id...I lost everything...every single thing including the new clothes I had bought for the children and grandchildren,’’ she replied. ‘‘The only thing I have left is the sari I’m wearing.’’
Stunned by her words, I asked for details. It was an all too familiar story - a tyrannical slumlord terrorising the old settlers on the filthy strip of marshland in South Mumbai. He wanted them to up and leave so that he could then ‘‘sell’’ the same to a sleazy developer for crores. Of course, even Razia bi realised the ogre was doing it at the behest of his political bosses. The same ones who came around asking for votes each time elections rolled up. This had gone on for years. Razia bi had fought back valiantly each time. Today, she doesn’t have the physical or mental strength to soldier on.
Razia bi was abandoned by her husband, leaving her to raise her children and stay alive. She did that sans drama, working day and night in several homes in the locality. Never once had this proud woman asked for anything that she felt she did not rightfully deserve. No loans had ever been appealed for. Nothing taken, borrowed or appropriated. It was work, work, work without a day off. Now, she’s temporarily homeless. She laughs at her ‘naseeb’ and says she feels strangely free. What she mourns though is the loss of those new Id clothes for her grandchildren. ‘‘Instead of celebrating, we cried all night,’’ she confesses.
There are millions like her in India. I am sure Sheila Dikshit, Vasundhara Raje Scindia and Uma Bharti are aware of them. What I want to ask these mighty power ladies is now that you’ve won your seats so convincingly, now that you don’t have to struggle for the position you’ve always craved, what are you going to do for the Razia bi’s?
Or don’t they count? They should, you know. For they form the backbone of your respective constituencies. They. Not me. If you don’t care about them, if you marginalise the voiceless, you will find that hot seat a bit too hot to handle. If a frail old lady has been able to stand up to the tyranny of a thug in her locality, she will also stand up to the likes of you.
So, while the garlands fly and victory dhols get pounded, while the three of you revel in the glory and perhaps even gloat over your victory, spare a thought for Razia bi. In her salvation, lies yours. And yes, don’t send her saris to replace the one she lost in the fire. Razia bi needs to clothe her dignity, not her body alone.