Tags:
Journalism of Courage
PUNE, February 13: There are no speeches here. No saffron or multi-coloured flags and no candidates flashing cell-phones. Despite the throng of onlookers whose curiosity got the better of them, the traffic flow at Mazoor Adda, Budhwar Chowk continues unhindered.
As did the litany of complaints from a motley crowd comprising labourers, hand-cart pullers, hawkers, child workers, rag-pickers — a representative sample of the most deprived sections of the country’s populace.
Giving them a shoulder to cry on was Baba Adhav, who, in an effort to shake them out of their listlessness, has resolved to teach them how to live with dignity.
Part of a `voters list’ which usually goes unnoticed, Alka Ramghole, who has spent 20 years of her life on the footpath, summed up the prevailing sentiment in two words: “Who cares?”.
Starting off with Thursday’s corner meeting under the banner of the Angmahanti Kashtkari Sangharsh Samiti,’ Adhav will meet people from all walks of life for four hours during `Voter AwarenessWeek’ and impress upon them the need to carefully weigh the candidates, assess their work, take stock of who has done what and then pose their questions at a meet-the-candidate rally organised on February 17.
If Sardar Khan Ali Khan who sells bags for a living is critical about one party promising to build a Ram Mandir, another wants Kesri to quit. “Candidates here are only interested in asking Kalmadi 12 questions. Why doesn’t anybody ask us our problem?” says another. While furiously scribbling away the difficulties faced by 22-year old Shankarlal Prajapati who came to Pune three days ago from Rajasthan and is still to find work, Adhav spots a villager, about 60 years old, wearing a bright pink turban, among the crowd and urges him to talk about his expectations.
While the villager is diffident, a well-dressed Baba Shinde jumps up and tells his fellow sufferers not to be misled by his decent clothing. For this farmer from Jalgaon likes to wear good clothes, but his is a hand-to-mouth existence aswell. “Those who used to beg for votes have great houses. But acres of our land are stolen,” Shinde says, handing over the mike to a child labourer, Yogesh Kadam, who sells newspapers for a living and thinks Vandana Chavan is one of the candidates. His companion — ten-year-old Dilip Shinde who earns Rs 50 a day and lives on the streets — simply nods his head to questions and says, “No, I don’t want to go to school, but can somebody pay for textbooks so that my little brother can?”
Even as the Sangharsh Samiti’s volunteers prod some more people, including some policemen, to open up and spell out their woes, a few find that the earlier speakers have struck an emotional chord and edge their way forward.
From Satyapal, a joss-stick seller who simply says “Please help”, Vitthal Gore, a handcart puller who shrugs tiredly and 60-year old Maruti Shedge who has been without work for the past eight days but feels that everybody should vote, to Mangal Pawar who supplies chappatis to hotels and young VilasPadole, a hawker who is so fed up with the anti-encroachment department that he is not too surprised when the PMC’s health department also fines him Rs 1000 — the grouse is the same: Nobody is interested in our problems.
The crowd disperses, some look for work, some wait to talk to Adhav, yet another day goes by. Who cares for Alka’s haunting eyes and little Dilip’s appeal?
