Indians and Social Forums

“I live in a tattered hut roofed by palm leaves
Which get shattered every year by thunderstorm,
Scorching sun burns my feet and my head in summer
And my cloths are so short in length that it always fails to cover either one,
Listen to my mournful stories O mother goddess,
Even in autumn roothless rain suffers me,
Streams and rivers are get united and
Water floods eight directions of my world.”

Fullara to Chandi – My unskilled translation from Chandimangal

Sound of drums was like waterfalls; roads were simmering, glittering and roaring with colourful crowd; the sunny morning of New Delhi was shivering with slogans of hundred voices and that was the Indian Social Forum in three grounds surrounding of the Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium. Children were there from streets, slums and villages, there were dalits protesting against Hindu Bharat in block robe, there were peasants demanding for their command over the land, water and forests, there were tribal dancing whole day with Dhamsa-Madol and on melancholy tune in front of the icons of their forgotten heroes – Sidho-Kanho and Birsha Munda, there were even unux groups dancing with every other groups in demand of their dignity.

A miniature of this vast country was singing, dancing, speaking whole day for their basic rights - their right to education, right to health, right to land-water-forest, right to works and wages. They were protesting against the much-discussed capitalist globalisation, selling the dream of another world.

There were around two hundred and fifty seminars in the four days of Indian Social Forum. All on real issues, issues related to the life of the common mass, issues which are very much political. There were rallies, street dramas, and cultural performances. But this big event where even children spoke about their own demand, where fifty thousand people from all corner of the country have participated, even representative from Kenya and Bangladesh were also present, were ignored by the media and the political society.

Whether they have kept themselves purposefully indifferent, whether they were afraid on this mass gathering or …. there are lots of opinions.

What I felt that this event yet has not become important in the mass life of India. The social forum could never compete with the popularity of Holi, Diwali, Navratri, Id-ul-Fitre or even of Christmas. Still it has remained as an intellectual event, not even a political one, where there is some motivated involvement of mass. This series of social forums, world, continental and national might be a ground-gaining tussle between the capitalist world and the recently weakened socialist groups and thus these events supported sufficiently by foreign resources. And the NGOs, who have changed their roles in last thirty years from philanthropist to campaigner, have taken these platforms to exercise their newly gained political recognitions.

And vast, illiterate, patient and religious India, who knows which cloud could bring rain for her crop and does not know about Social Forums. She lives in thousands of villages, has taken government and political leaders as their Mai-Bap, still believes that only her fate could bring another world for her, only wants that her children should get two squares of meal everyday.

This India dance in Holi in her ragged clothes, lit lamps under the star-studded sky in Diwali, stand patiently in long queue under the scorched sun to cast her vote and dreams that she will overcome some day. This India has forgotten that her scholar long ego has given her right of rebellion and even regicide. She even was advised, “an unjust and oppressive king should be killed by his own subject like a mad dog”.

Could Indian Social Forum instigate her courage, would it ignite her patience like dried fuel, or would it help her to fumigate her grievances, anger like a safety valve and help to maintain a status quo.

The future has the answer in her womb. But when I was in the ISF ground surrounded by the enthusiasm, slogans, unity, freedom and proud of the people I was inspired to believe that it is the beginning…. Beginning of our journey for a new world.

“I am dreaming with an expectation that you come
And the days passing by one after another,
They are igniting fire with and expectation of better time
And for nothing few people passing away,
To see the sky with their head hold high
They see the dirty, black smoke,

But still my heart wants to hope,
But still my heart wants to love,
But still my heart wants to dream………”

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Photographs taken from SPAN and EKTA PARISHAD