Friday, February 27, 2009

Turning Tihar into an Ashram

Kiran Bedi remains a determined and inspiring figure even today, all thanks to the Sunrise, writes Shivangi Ambani-Gandhi

It is one thing to see Kiran Bedi on film or TV and quite another in flesh. No camera, and certainly none of the words in this article, can capture the enthusiasm she exudes. Even now at 59 years of age, and just couple of inches over 5 feet, Bedi—the first woman to join the Indian police service and became its highest serving female officer—is still a towering figure—barely contained on the stage of the National Maritime Museum in Sydney, where she gave a talk on prison reforms recently.

Bedi is of course, also very well known for transforming Asia’s, and perhaps the world’s largest prison—Tihar, inhabited by the country’s most notorious criminals—into an ashram, by introducing the ancient meditation practice of Vipassana.

Crisply dressed, in her characteristic simplicity—white shirt and black vest, with short cropped hair—rarely standing still, Bedi talks fast, with an unwavering gaze and searing honesty. She is definitely showing no physical signs of ageing, and lacks none of the determination, ambition or wit of her early years.

She laughs heartily while watching a film clip of the incident when she towed away then Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi’s illegally parked car; dramatises animatedly her many conversations with the prisoners of the notorious Tihar Jail in India; sternly refuses any admittance to defeat “You never fail, you only keep trying,” she says; and yet exudes a yogi-like calm when referring to her retirement—“I could have stayed another two years, and become the Commissioner to enjoy the benefits offered by the Indian Government, but I knew I would not be challenged.”

Bedi was in Australia to support (and not promote, she insists) Australian filmmaker Megan Doneman’s documentary on her life thus far, Yes Madam, Sir (also covered in an earlier issue of Indian Link), which was only the second film in its history to get a standing ovation at the recent Adelaide Festival. “Megan has made a film on my life already,” says Bedi. “I tell her that she may have to make a sequel.” Doneman says of the experience of following Bedi’s life for 6 years, “It was exhausting, she walks very fast.”

Bedi’s insights into prison reforms were inspiring and revealing. “The prison reforms came from my own belief in the value of time,” says Bedi. “The inmates could either waste time, or invest it.”

She recollected her first days in Tihar. “My office was rat-ridden, because none of the previous officers had used this office. They all preferred to sit in offices of power, closer to the Ministers. But my job was here, in the jail.”

She did not dress in her uniform, too ensure she looked ordinary, and took rounds of the prison and spoke directly with the prisoners. One of the myths circulating the prison was that when an officer got too close to an inmate, he had his little finger bitten off by the inmate. Bedi found that the superintendents and the prisoners were locked in a vicious circle of revenge. “The key was communication. I was not afraid of having my finger bitten,” she said.

One of her first questions to the prisoners was, “Do you pray?” “I knew the prisoners needed to look deeper—I had to make a real change in their minds and hearts,” said Bedi. After one of her Assistant Superintendents mentioned the benefits of Vipassana that he had himself experienced, Bedi brought the ancient meditation practice into the prison.

On the 10th day of the Vipassana program—the day of breaking silence—not really knowing what to expect, Bedi attended the session. “Many of the hardened criminals were crying. ‘We were nursing revenge, but now we seek forgiveness,’ is what many said,” recollects Bedi. “Other prisoners then also wanted to take it on—Vipassana has to be voluntary, of course,” says Bedi.

A course for more than 1,000 students was conducted by Mr. S.N. Goenka and his assistants from April 4-15, 1993—and the Vipassana program still continues today. It is legislated by the Indian government for Indian jails and has now spread to USA, Israel, Mongolia, New Zealand, Taiwan, Thailand and UK. In fact, inspired by this success, in Australia, Spirit of India ran Yoga classes at Dillwynia correction centre at Windsor in 2005 and 2006. From March 2009 onward they shall start Yoga classes at Parramatta Transition centre for inmates.

Meanwhile, Tihar also became the only non-smoking prison in the world, under Bedi’s dictate, she recollects. “We were ahead of the times. The Indian Government only recently legislated all public spaces as non smoking zones,” she said.

One of her greatest challenges at Tihar though, was budget—or rather the lack of it. “There was no reformation budget. If you wait for budgets it won’t happen – the prisoners will simply drink themselves away,” said Bedi.

She maintains that prison programs can only be run by the three Cs—Community, Collective and Correction. So to get community involvement, Bedi used her goodwill from her previous postings, with schools and colleges, to get volunteer teachers as well as books. The jail’s library came from publishers—the slightly defected books that would have otherwise been thrown away. She then brought the media in—“This brought an avalanche of goodwill,” says Bedi—always playing her cards perfectly timed.

Just as she does not believe in asking for a budget, nor does Bedi believe in asking for permission. “I did not go to the government to ask for permission. If I did, it would have taken them three years perhaps to give an answer,” she laughs. “Whatever authority I had, according to the manual, I used it,” she says unflinchingly.

Tihar turned all the garbage into manure, which was sold to fund education of the inmates. Bedi also started the India Vision Bread School, now known as the Tihar Baking School—using inmate skills to bring fresh bread to the jail and is now selling it outside too. “They have changed the name, and that is fine. Kiran went away, but the programs stayed, which is great,” says Bedi, who is genuinely pleased that her otherwise jealous colleagues and successors have at least not endangered the many beneficial programs she started.

Yet, of course there were many incidents when colleagues and seniors deliberately tried to pull her down. She recollects the first time she was invited to Bill Clinton’s National Prayer Breakfast Meeting at the White House. “I was asked to decline the invitation. So I declined. But I knew it was an annual event, the invitation will come again. And after the Magsaysay Award, sure it did,” laughs Bedi who knows how to lose the small battles to win the war.

“I was of course upset. I did not unpack my bags and headed straight to work. I went to the jail and danced with the women inmates and forgot all about it. That is what Vipassana teaches you—to leave it behind.”

She even admitted, with rare honesty, that she would have quite easily left her family behind if they had come in her path. “My husband was the most non-interfering man,” said Bedi to an audience roaring with laughter. “However, if he had come in my path, I would have left him. My daughter is very loving, but if she had come in my way, she would have gone to boarding school. My parents too were very supportive. It could have been a very lonely life, if my family had not been so supportive. But in my family, everybody was a giver, no one was a taker.”

Bedi now hosts a TV show, called Aapki Kacheri. “I am a judge resolving many matters. And we intertwine the show with awareness of law,” said Bedi. She also hosts a radio show, meets several speaking engagements and runs two websites for police reform—saferindia.com addresses complaints that the police won’t take and indiapolice.com encourages Indian Police from across states, languages and hierarchies to communicate.

When asked where her enthusiasm comes from, Bedi had a wonderfully simple answer, “From the Sunrise.” She said, “Every morning, each one of us gets 24 hours to do the best of what we can. The Sun never tires of rising does it?”

Yes Madam, Sir will release theatrically in Australia later this year.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Desis shine on at Sydney Mardi Gras 2009

Desi participants in the Mardi Gras want to send a message home.

The theme for Mardi Gras 2009 couldn't have been more appealing for the desi GLBT community in Sydney—'Nations United'. Under a theme that celebrates diversity, the Mardi Gras Pride Parade will be an opportunity for the community to express their pride in their sexuality, and their cultural heritage.

"There are about 25-30 South Asians marching in the parade with ACON (AIDS Council of New South Wales)," says Roopali Pandey, director of Trikone—a social support group for GLBT community of South Asian descent in Australia. "We will dress in traditional, flamboyant costumes and carry the flags of all the representative nations—India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Nepal. Imagine, India and Pakistan can't stand each other back home, but here we will all unite," she says laughing. "We are marching as South Asians."

While asserting the South Asian identity in the mainstream GLBT community, they also aim at making a point to governments and conservative groups back home. "We are trying to send a message back home. We will be carrying banners against Section 377," says Pandey. Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code identifies homosexuality as a punishable offence. Trikone was also present at Fair Day—the official launch event of the Mardi Gras held at Victoria Park on 15th February.

Meanwhile, Mardi Gras regular, Visakesa Chandrasekaram brings a theatrical dance piece to the stage as part of the Mardi Gras. Gods in War is based on a mythological tale—"a South Indian legend, prominent in Kerala," says Chandrasekaram.

It is believed that Lord Vishnu transformed into a woman, Mohini, to fight demonic enemies. Lord Shiva fell in love with Mohini, and their love bore the child, Ayyappa, who refused the company of women. "The story of Ayyappa is a very pluralistic one. In Hinduism there is a clear place for people of different sexualities," says Chandrasekaram.

More than the allure of a mythological tale, replete with opportunities for dramatic presentation and traditional costume, there was a deeper reason for Chandrasekaram to pick this tale for the Mardi Gras. "A lot of homosexual people don't have any spiritual guidance. Many believe that religions create hatred against homosexuality, and they turn atheist," says Chandrasekaram. "However, every religion teaches love of all humans. Hinduism doesn't refute homosexuality, but accepts it through characters like Mohini—a transsexual."

Chandrasekaram with two other dancers will incorporate Bharatnatyam, Kathak, Kuchipudi and Kandyam (a Sri Lankan dance form similar to Kathakali), with English dialogues. "These works also create an interest about our subcontinent, Hinduism, Buddhism," he says. His last play, Butterflies in the Mughal Garden, played to houseful audiences and was loved for its ethnic elements.

"Mainstream Sydneygroups started to find out about our group. We have built respect in the community as a talent. South Asians also bring some depth and new perspectives to the discussion (about sexuality)," says Chandrasekaram, about the South Asian community's growing visibility in mainstream GLBT events like the Mardi Gras.

He also recently directed a short film, Finding Kamal, about a South Asian gay man, living with transgender men. The 15-minute film, produced in association with Salaam Namaste, another South Asian GLBT group in Australia, was launched last week.

"There are always South Asian events happening in our community that don't always get mentioned in mainstream media," says Chandrasekaram. He has also finished writing a new play about Phoolan Devi, which his group is hoping to develop as a community project, rather than a professional one. "There are a lot of talented people within the community, and we want to give them a chance. So the actors will be selected from the larger community," says Chandrasekaram.

Similarly, Trikone held their inaugural film festival, Gulmohar: South Asian Queer Film Festival in Sydney over three days from the Indian Independence Day last year.

Both Chandrasekaram and Roopali Pandey agree, that the South Asian community within the larger GLBT one in Australia, has its own peculiar challenges. "As a gay migrant, you are a minority, within a minority," says Sadhana Jethanandani, another Trikone director. "Culturally there is so much pressure and guilt, especially with the concept of family," she adds. The Aussie can easily walk away from family, if they refuse to accept his/her homosexuality, she believes. "For a South Asian, saying f*** off to the family is the last option."

Groups like Trikone and Salaam Namaste aim to reach out, and create a forum for South Asian homosexuals. Trikone meets monthly to share their stories. "Our aim is to provide a space where they can be comfortable even for an hour," says Jethnandani.

Yet, the organisation offers full confidentiality to those who are not comfortable coming out. "We offer a non-judgmental environment, and maintain confidentiality if required. Members can come out in their own time," says Pandey.

The groups also act as a support group for new immigrants. Trikone is currently helping a young Indian who fled from Delhi after his neighbours beat him up. "We are applying to Amnesty to help him with his Permanent Residency as well as helping him find a job. This is what we are here for," says Pandey. "We want to be a support group, not just a social group," adds Jethnandani.

Of course it isn't all work and no play for these groups. Trikone's next event on the cards is a Pink Bollywood party. "We have found a gay-friendly DJ and we are planning the party for end of April—enough time to recover from the Mardi Gras," she laughs.

Gods in War, 25-26 Feb, 6.30pm Riverside Theatres, Parramatta and 1 March, 7pm Factory Theatre, Marrickville
Mardi Gras Pride Parade, 7 March, starting Oxford Street, 7.45pm

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Finding redemption in the Indian monsoon


Santosh Sivan’s incinerating tale of the clash between coloniser and colonised, finds no catharsis in the rain.


When you pack cinematographer-turned-auteur Santosh Sivan, the leading figures of Indian art house cinema—Rahul Bose and Nandita Das—and the universal story of the clash of cultures, you expect nothing less than sublimely executed, incinerating drama on screen.

Sivan’s English language directorial debut, Before the Rains, is set in pre-independence Kerala. An ambitious young Indian, TK Neelan (Rahul Bose), is torn between the promise of prosperity, offered by his boss, British spice baron, Henry Moores (Linus Roache), and loyalty to his own people at a time when the Indian nationalist movement is gathering momentum.

While the film is about an individual caught in the clash between the coloniser and the colonised, it could just as easily be about the questions of identity that we constantly face as immigrants to a new country.


When TK’s father reprimands him for his “modern ideas” TK refutes, “It was you sent me to the English school.” TK is constantly rebuked for his dream of collaboration with the British rulers. When TK offers, “With mutual co-operation comes mutual prosperity.” his teacher responds, “Partnership requires equals Mr. Neelan, remember that,” as he tries to convince TK to join the nationalist protest movement.

When times are good, Moores treats TK almost as an equal, even offering to name the road they are building after him. Yet, when Moores’ illicit affair with his beautiful, Indian housemaid, Sajani (Nandita Das) leads to dangerous consequences, TK is forced to deal with the situation. The moment of epiphany for him seems to come when Moores does not stand up to take responsibility for a crime that TK is now being tried for.

Yet, the moment passes without any tension—cinematically there is no moment of epiphany in this film. In his notes, Sivan talks of “exploring grey shades of people”, yet his characters remain half-baked: Moores seems like nothing more than a spineless adulterer, Sajani’s fascination with British culture (she learns English songs) as well as her passion for her English lover, are only partially developed. TK’s turmoil built up gradually, and enacted with superb restraint by Bose, comes to sudden fruition, reaching no crescendo. TK finds his identity and independence, and the rain that pours down—the often-used Indian metaphor—is an inept catharsis for the audience.

However, to Sivan’s credit, the film is sincerely directed, and ravishingly beautiful in photography. He cinematically builds the metaphors of the film, like the road that Moores and TK struggle and hope to build together. Sivan says in his notes, “the road… depicts the act of violence on nature as the story unfolds. I illustrated this by shooting the film in a style reminiscent of pre-Raphaelite paintings in which the earth itself carries sentiment and is full of symbolism and meaning.”

Though, exploring themes of cultural clashes, the film production itself is a celebration of cultural diversity. Shot in the remote region of Munnar, Kerala—hours up winding mountain roads from any city—the production brought together crews from Mumbai, Chennai and Munnar, actors from UK and producers from US. Local craftspeople hand-made an entire village as the set for the film. The story itself is adapted from an Israeli short film, Red Roofs, about an Israeli farmer who has an illicit affair with his housemaid and forces his assistant to deal with the consequences. It isn’t really surprising how seamlessly the action shifts to 1937 Kerala.

Linus Roache too has his own Indian links—way before his recent slew of projects in India, including this film, Mira Nair’s The Namesake and Broken Thread. His mother, Anna Cropper, who was in Jewel in the Crown, brought him out of boarding school to join her in Kashmir when he was 17. “It was quite a culture shock. I ended up smoking bidi cigarettes in the back of a taxi, thinking I was smoking dope, which I wasn’t!” he told Sydney Morning Herald. Thankfully, he did learn much more about India on the many latter trips he made to the country for his spiritual interests.
All photos: Alphonse Roy