Crime | Articles by Rishi, and other words.

I’m not Tarannum

Posted on September 17, 2009 by rishimajumder

Devastated actress Tamanna Bhatia exposes e-mail fraud pix

Tamanna

Actress Tamanna Bhatia is considering legal action against cyber pranksters who have floated her pictures on the net claiming that she is Mumbai’s notorious dance bar girl Tarannum Khan.
The pictures, taken during the shooting of a Telugu film, Shree, have been popping into in-boxes across the country from someone called, appropriately enough, idle brain, saying: “Now do you understand why so many cricketers and film stars have gone mad behind her? Yes, she is Tarannum Khan, the famous bar girl, nowadays in news”.Tarannum, the crorepati bar girl, is at present in police custody while Tamanna is shooting in Hyderabad. “I cannot believe that this is happening to me,” said a traumatised Tamanna who discovered the pictures on Tuesday afternoon. “I’ve heard of this happening to people in this line of work, but I never thought it could happen to me.” Tamanna is a first year junior college student at National College, Bandra, and is at present shooting for Shree. The actress, who claims to be only 15 – – “I started acting when I was 13” — says that she has heard of Tarannum through newspapers. “I’m just a youngster getting to know that such people and incidents exist in society,” she said during a telephone interview.
Ever since they discovered the e-mail the family has been distraught. Tamanna’s furious father, Santosh Bhatia, says his nephew forwarded the e-mail to him. “I and my son were horrified when we saw the mail,” he says, agitated. “We just didn’t know how someone could do this.” Tamanna, who had earlier acted in an obscure Hindi movie called Chand Sa Roshan Chehra, says the pictures in the e-mail were taken during a song sequence for Shree five days ago and were distributed to the local press. Ashok Kumar, spokesperson for Shree Laxmi Productions, the producers of Shree, corroborated her claim and added that the unit was shocked that someone could do this “to a 15-year-old girl. Our entire unit is standing by her side and if we find the guy who did this we will rip him apart.”
Tamanna’s mother, who is with her in Hyderabad, is reportedly on the verge of a breakdown. “It’s just unbearable seeing her go through this,” says Kumar, “She’s almost a wreck.” Though considering legal action, Tamanna’s father said they were still unsure how to go about it.

one of the defamatory images

This article originally appeared in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: http://alturl.com/tzse

Duped investors close ranks to get their money back

Posted on August 26, 2009 by rishimajumder

RISHI MAJUMDER

Photographer: Rana Chakraborty

Money's worth... Investors' meeting

Around 5,500 duped investors, mainly from Maharashtra, have been struggling since 1997 to get back their money (an average of Rs 1 lakh each) they had invested in Maxworth Orchard Ltd, which had launched a landfarming scheme in 1993.
Around 125 members of the Maxworth Orchard Investors’ Welfare Association (MOIWA) — an investors’ rights association formed in 1997 — recently held a meeting at Bandra to mobilise investors to come together and reclaim their money.
“The agreement with the company said the lands would be transferred in the investors’ names,” C D Sheshadri, who is the vice-chairman of MOIWA, said.
The agreement said the returns from the land would start accruing to the investors from the fourth year onwards and continue for 15 years, after which the investor would have the option of taking over the land himself.
“And so, the cost of maintenance for these 15 years was taken from each investor,” Sheshadri said, adding that the amount they paid was around nine times the value of the land itself.
In 1997, R Subramaniam, the then chairman of Maxworth, who now heads Sterling Resorts Limited, told the investors that the company had no money to pay returns or their initial investment. Also, most of the investors did not get sale deeds for the plots.
“However, the company never formally declared bankruptcy,” Sheshadri said.
This is when alarmed investors decided to form an association. In 1997 alone, over 550 FIRs were filed by them with the Economic Offences Cell of Mumbai police.
When the troubles started mounting for Maxworth, Subramaniam and the company’s directors moved the Madras High Court, which in 2002 appointed an administrator to assess their respective claims.
In November 2006, the administrator called a meeting of the investors in Chennai, where a majority favoured a proposal under which the company would sell the land and pay them on a pro rata basis.
But Sheshadri contests the claim saying most of the investors were not even informed about the scheduled meeting which was advertised through a small notice in one newspaper only. He says not even five per cent of the investors were aware of the meeting.
Investors also say that if the company is allowed to sell the land, they would not get their due share as no auction details were discussed at the Chennai meeting.
Already, 1300 investors have sent their objections to the proposal, the deadline for which was the first week of April, 2007.
Now, MOIWA is trying to get together all the 5,500 investors in the Western Zone to be able to show that they together own more than 50 per cent of the land in each project, a pre-requisite laid down by the administrator for them to be able to claim the ownership of the plots.
Despite repeated attempts, Subramaniam was not available for comment.
“Subramaniam is still the main boss at the Maxworth,” Sheshadri claims a Maxworth director told him.

This article first appeared in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: http://alturl.com/u5ye

Mahim’s homeless play out their woes

Posted on August 26, 2009 by rishimajumder

R ISHI M AJUMDER

Photographer: Pal Pillai

sunday street, or beach play

SHWETAANK Mishra and Abhishek Bhardwaj of Alternative Realities, an NGO, organised a street play scripted, directed by a group of homeless people who also acted in it. It was performed near Mahim Reti Bunder on Mahim Beach on Sunday evening to create unity and awareness of rights among the homeless citizens of Mahim beach (amounting to nearly 2,000). The NGO hopes to mobilise them into collectively demanding suitable living conditions from the government.
The play highlighted issues faced by the homeless like discrimination by society, robbery, corruption and sexual assault.
Ironically, these people claim that most of their worries stem from policemen. “Even if one person does something wrong, hundreds are disturbed” complains Saleem Khan, who installs banners for a living and sleeps on the beach. “They charge us under beggary (Bombay Prevention of Begging Act 1959), but most of those charged aren’t beggars — we work to earn our living.”
Another frustrating experience is visiting government hospitals. “First the compounders say things like ‘why do you people come to Bombay to die?’” elucidates Ajay Mistry, a worker in the catering business, “Then the doctor tells us he can’t help us because we don’t have any other family member to stand by if something happens.”
Mishra is upset that a television news channel suggested in a telecast that these homeless people were responsible for the rubbish lining Mahim beach. “They are so poor and scared of getting robbed, they don’t even bother keeping a ration card with them,” exclaims Mishra. “Where will they find garbage to throw on the beach?”
Alternative Realities is supported by the Mumbai For Change Campaign of Action Aid, an international welfare organisation.
Its three-pronged approach is to create awareness and unity among the homeless, bring their condition to light before the public and approach government authorities such as the Social Welfare secretary for aid.
“The only solution is for the government to build shelters for these people, like the Rahen Baseras in Delhi,” says Bhardwaj.

testimony

This article first appeared in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: http://alturl.com/d3zh

BOMBAY BLACK

Posted on August 22, 2009 by rishimajumder

Rishi Majumder trails Mumbai’s African Community, right upto their retreat into suburbia

Photographer: Sachin Haralkar (For Dongri); Raju Shinde (For Motinagar, Bhayander)

Darren James dresses on Sundays in his Isiagwu (a shirt like top), Agwa (a wrap) and opu ogudu (a cap) — all elements of traditional Igbo (a Nigerian tribe) outfit. He then joins 20 others, dressed like him, who’ve come to his flat to offer Christian prayer, imbued with Nigerian custom. Michael Agu calls a fellow Ethiopian every week with a wish-list of African music CDs containing songs — traditional and contemporary — that he can’t procure on the web. For Danny Waage missing South Africa means missing soccer. He drowns his sorrow in egusi Soup made from pumpkin seeds or pepitas (substitutes for the traditional egusi seed). James, Agu and Waage are among thousands of other Africans settling fast to mark out ‘black buildings’ in outer Mumbai suburbs like Mira Road, Bhayander and Vasai.

BACK TO BLACK

Anthropological theorists trace the African-Indian connection racially, to the Indus Valley civilization, and the subsequent Dravidian race. In a more recent context is placed the Sidis – India’s ‘own’ African race, settled here for centuries that result in them speaking local dialects only, with only a spattering of Bantu. Most African nationals who came to the country a decade ago at most and divide their time in months between homeland and Mumbai don’t know these histories. “Nigeria, like India, has so many natural resources — but we don’t utilize them well,” says Chiderra Jel, a garments exporter, switching off from the Sunny Bobo VCD we’re watching at Oomo, one of Dongri’s two African restaurants. “That’s why we come here to manufacture items which meet the demand back home.” Getting products manufactured as per order in Mumbai and sending them to their parent country is a choice of business for most Africans. Jel even gets traditional Igbo outfits, to be exported to Nigeria, stitched in Wada, Thane.
Oomo, a shack with chairs, tables and a TV only, is popular, as is Puku, as a rendezvous spot for Africans working and living around Mohammed Ali Road, enabling them to catch up in between their work, or after it. These restaurants don’t say ‘nonon Africans allowed’, but the lack of publicity about them and wariness about Africans in the area ensures a racial exclusivity to its clientele. “But I’ll be leaving this place too, like many blacks have, and move to Mira Road,” says Jem. “Even if it means a long travel to work.” The main reason cited by many Africans for this shift is discrimination by local residents, often culminating in a violent brawl, where the Africans are outnumbered. Suburbs like Mira Road, with their new buildings and cheaper prices, enables them to rent flats in the same building complex, so they can stick together for protection, and identity.

CULTURE CONNECT

‘God Is My Strength’ is the name devoutly given to a sixth floor living room converted into an African restaurant. Located in a Bhayander building complex called Motinagar which houses Africans only, it draws a mixed crowd of Nigerians, South Africans, Ghanaians and Kenyans from every corner of the area. “Suji, plantain, egusi Soup,” Fafore, who owns and runs the place rattles off the regular fare which means home to many. “But for festivals we have special preparations of Yam and Bitter Leaf.” Fafore further says that for Africans in Mumbai, comprising a diverse diaspora in religion and nationality, “naming a common festival for all blacks is difficult”. The Yam Festival, however, serves as an important connect. For this harvest fest held at the beginning of August, those who don’t fly back home come to roost at one of the four African joints in the city with special preparations of pounded yam, bitter leaf soup and a multitude of fish and goat preparations, or meet at one of the suburban building compounds they live in to celebrate continent-hood. Another draw to these plain but cozy enclaves is the African music videos constantly playing on their TV screens. From traditional Afro beats to African hip-hop, Osayo Morejoseph, Sunny Bobo and 2Face connect to their countrymen, and connect them with one another. “We would have celebrated our festivals in a bigger way,” says Adamu Okuma, a Nigerian who is earning a business degree at Mumbai university and managing his uncle’s export import business simultaneously. “But to be honest, we are a little scared to do so.”

At Motinagar Building Complex, Bhayander

WHITE IS RIGHT

Okuma’s reason for not celebrating festivals in a “bigger way” is the same as that for Africans moving to far out suburbs to stay in ‘only black’ buildings. “Why do Indians think we are after their women?” at least four African youth asked. Agu displays two stab scars he received from a fight two months ago over the fact that he “just looked at a girl in Dongri”. Waage speaks of a girl who yelled and raised an alarm because a friend was asking for her number at a bus stop. This isn’t unusual. One can imagine an Indian boy being stabbed in ultra-orthodox Dongri for “just looking at a girl”. One can also imagine an ultra-orthodox Indian girl raising an alarm over a stranger at a bus stop, whatever his
nationality, asking for her number. Okuma steps in: “That guy got stoned by the locals over that phone number and had to take stitches.” Okuma proceeded to say that girls and guys alike would have a problem talking to him politely even if he asked someone the time.
“It’s all in the skin Babba,” Agu says. “You guys were dominated by people because you were dark. And now you’ve found someone who’s darker than you.” The 50 odd dirty looks from onlookers, counted in the time spent travelling with Agu and Waage to Mira Road station, might stand testimony to this. But prejudice isn’t so simple. A distinguishing factor among African youth, that Indians aren’t used to, is their muscular build and vibrant body language. Those not thus intimidated are perplexed at their accent. Waage, for instance, uses “Yep” and “Ahem” in nearly every statement. When he says “park the car” it sounds like “pork the cow”. Add to this the fact that the South African twang was evolved via colonial army men who barked out every statement to make even “I love you” sound like an infantry command, and it’ll be easier to fathom why a man behind the ticket counter started yelling at him when all he inquired about was a train pass price.
Quoted often to legitimize this bias is the large number of Africans (especially Nigerians) proven to be involved in the drug trade, and an ‘advance fee email fraud’ that induces you to send in small sums of money in the hope of winning millions, which is dubbed the ‘Nigerian Scam’ by crime syndicates because of the country it is mostly associated with. “But even if most of the foreigners caught for drug trafficking are Nigerians, most Nigerians are not into drug trafficking,” argues Okuma. “We comprise 60 per cent of the Mumbai’s African population. How can you generalize?”

This article first appeared in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: http://alturl.com/45te

SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME

Posted on August 20, 2009 by rishimajumder

Rishi Majumder finds out what lies beneath the armour of body-guarding services

Salman and Shera

While filming the finale of Lagaan in Bhuj, more than 10,000 villagers, who were being used as extras, wished to get up close and personal with the film’s lead actor, Aamir Khan. Six guards from Ace Security And Protection, armed with only sticks, managed the mob-like situation. In a separate incident, when Hrithik Roshan emerged from an event in the city, fans threatened to mob the star, when Topsgrup body guards formed a human chain to escort the star into a vehicle and calmed the crowd by continually interacting with them.
Bollywood actors, such as the Bachchans, Kareena Kapoor, Mallika Sherawat, Shah Rukh Khan, Salman Khan and many others operate under strict security cover.
“Security is the second largest business in the West, and I see India going that way too,” says TV actor Ronit Roy who, after working with his friend Vikas Verma, the head of Property Guards, formed his own outfit Ace Security And Protection. Roy’s company is famous for its body-guarding services, its client list boasting many illustrious Bollywood names such as Aamir Khan, Celina Jaitley, Preity Zinta and Hrithik Roshan.
“Around two years ago our company’s annual turnover from executive protection was 25 lakh. We had around 130 clients then,” says Deepak Monga, brand manager for Topsgrup Total Security Solutions. The figure has now touched 63 lakh, with around 250 subscribers, for only body guarding. S N Rai, CEO of Globe Detective Agency Private Ltd. continues in a similar vein. He says, “A couple of years back our earnings from bodyguarding was between 10 to 12 lakh. This has shot up to between 15 to 16 lakh today,” says Rai. Even Shera, known filmstar Salman Khan’s man-in-arms, owns a security outfit, Tiger Security Services Ltd., through which he supplies bodyguards to other stars as well, though he reiterates, “Salman Khan is and will be our permanent client. We will provide security coverage for him wherever he is in the world.”

EVERYMAN’S BODY GUARD
The rich and the powerful have been known to employ security but, in a startling trend, today there are many other takers of their services as well. “Earlier 99 per cent of our clientele were filmstars. Today industrialists and corporates are also hiring protection,” points out Monga. Rai agrees: “Now even middle level businessmen with a turnover of around 50 crore are our clients, apart from the top industrialists.” Pandurang Sakpal, managing partner of SRSF (Safe Reliable Suraksha Force) also admits that his clientele today comprises the upper-middle-class businessman and corporate. “With security available at Rs 15,000 a month, it has become affordable,” he says, seconded by Monga, “People are more aware of security options. And place their life at a premium, considering the reasonable protection charges.”
It is curious that there is a demand for security, given the presence of a well-equipped state police force. Roy offers the macro-perspective: “The need for security has grown proportionately with the growth in crime, due to the sudden burst in the economy and the population growth.” Monga believes that private security agencies are extensions of the government. “We look upon ourselves as a body that offers the government a helping hand,” he says. Rai is not so benevolent towards the forces. He says: “Obviously the police force is unable to meet the growing protection demands. Which is why those who receive threatening calls have to resort to alternative arrangements.” To prove his point he says, “We were providing security to Gulshan Kumar with another agency. A month after he discontinued our services, he was shot.”

PICK YOUR MAN
Who would you feel the most secure with – a beefcake or a youthful and agile person? Bodyguards come in two levels: A and B. The former comprises a team of very young and agile people, whereas the latter has people with impressive build who look intimidating but are not as effective on field.
“It’s funny that when we send both groups to the client to choose from, he often chooses a B level over A. I suppose some people want a body guard more for the show,” laughs Rai. Topsgrup has a similar categorisation. “There’s an executive protection officer, an armed executive protection officer and an unarmed combat executive protection officer,” lists Monga. While the first is the guard with an impressive build, the latter two are the men to have around on field. “The unarmed combat executive protection officer may look thin and wiry, but he can take on 10 people in hand-tohand combat.” The Topsgrup has also an Amazonish clan called Tops Angels, who are female guards meant to guard women. “This class is especially popular film actresses,” he says.
But not everyone classifies their guards. “We do not have a grade system, but have one group of specialised personnel,” says Roy. “The security provided to the client is decided according to their need, not by a pre-ordained class. I want to supply security and not mere manpower.”

DO YOU QUALIFY?
So you are fit, and think you can get in, right? Well, it’s not so hunky dory and Bollywood-like. Candidates are chosen on their knowledge of martial arts, fitness and general alertness and reflexes. Roy, for… well, security purposes like to keep his business “in the family”, relying on recommendations of those already employed with Ace for recruitment. Some agencies, like SRSF however operate on contract basis; they recruit from martial arts institutes and fitness trainers from wellknown gyms, after checking up on their backgrounds. They then go through a week’s training programme to acquaint themselves with the job. In certain agencies, such as Shera’s Tiger Security Services, ex-army men are preferred. “But that is not always possible, as ex-armymen are often very old,” Rai points out. But Shera would have them on a supervisory role “as they are good on on-spot strategising”.
Agencies prefer to rotate bodyguards. “We haven’t had any untoward incidents yet, but prefer not to have one bodyguard for an individual for a long stretch, to avoid over-familiarity,” explains Rai.
First aid, evacuation, fire prevention and control, explosives and action on detection of bombs and patrolling procedures are standard parts of the training programme. But Rai focuses on training his men to suit particular situations. “They are taught to deal with specifics such as car attacks, an attack at a party, an office or a residence. There is also a chapter on screening visitors. While for specialised training, Ace security guards go for a 100-day training programme including Krav Maga (the famed Israeli military unarmed combat system) and Jujitsu (a Brazilian martial art), they are also taught how to deal with situations that may not necessitate combat. “Often the people who try to mob the stars are fans. You can’t use un-armed combat on such people, but just pure physical restraint!” explains Roy.
Over and above all this, the actual security strategies are often tailormade. “We sit with the client and figure out the ‘threat perceptions’ they face. Then we strategise on contingencies and alternative paths of action,” Roy emphasises. Rai adds, “We use various permutations and combinations. Whether or not we should have vehicles following the VIP depends entirely on the extent of threat.” Sakpal prefers to have plain-clothes men on motorcycles or cars patrolling the area where the VIP is located. “When we see sniff trouble, we either follow it or inform the police.”
The threats are disparate as well. “It can be from the underworld or from a begrudged employee who has access to inside information,” claims Monga. “Both must be dealt with caution.”

Shahid and Kareena - under cover

This article first appeared in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: http://alturl.com/9o7h

‘I HAVE TO BE HIS PILLAR OF STRENGTH’

Posted on August 20, 2009 by rishimajumder

Married for five months, how does Peeya Rai Choudhuri feel like being in the eye of a storm? While Shayan Munshi keeps his silence on the Jessica Lall case, his wife speaks to Rishi Majumder

Adversity, they say, brings out the best in a person. Former Channel V VJ and actress Peeya Rai Choudhuri couldn’t agree more. The elfin Peeya, 26, and her husband, model Shayan Munshi, 27, have been thrown into the face of difficult times soon after they said `I do’.
“Spiritually, Shayan and I have grown much in the course of the last few months,” says the actress. Model turned actor Shayan was a lead witness in the August 1999 Jessica Lall murder case, who had turned hostile. Since then he has become part of celeb folklore, never out of the spotlight. “We’ve tried hard to rise above the adversity and focus on what is real between us. There’s so much havoc all around, that one could easily behave in an irrational way,” she says. Strong words, when you remember her as a bubbly Channel V VJ or Aishwarya’s impulsive baby sister in Bride And Prejudice.
Shayan and Peeya were splashed all over the papers recently, following the former’s arrest by the Kolkata police at the city’s airport, as the couple were on their way to Bangkok for a honeymoon. “Neither of us had any clue about the circular,” she protests. “As we were going through immigration, an official alerted us about a ‘wanted’ flashing on his screen next to Shayan’s name.” Honeymoon forgotten, the next few hours were spent fielding a spate of queries and getting in touch with family and friends.
First Rai Choudhuri put through an SOS call to her father-in-law, Prabir Munshi, who, unaware of the incident, had dropped the couple at the airport and driven back home. Faxes flew between Delhi and Kolkata. Peeya called the EOW (Economic Offences Wing), who are dealing with the investigations of the re-opened case in Delhi, to be informed that Shayan was “neither an accused nor a witness. He is only required for investigation purposes”. “Unfortunately, by this time, Shayan had already been sent to a magistrate, and word was out in that he was ‘arrested’,” she recalls. At the Barrackpore Court hearing, the judge ordered that Shayan be released on a recognition bond, his passport be retained and that he go to the EOW in Delhi and return with a compliance notice from them. “However, now that we’re back from the Capital with the compliance notice and other required documents, the court has demanded a compliance notice from the enquiry officer who was a part of the arrest. He has till July 28 for this to be cleared up, so till then, we’re stuck in limbo,” says Peeya, a hint of resignation in her voice.
This was only a recent flash in the pan for the couple. The Jessica Lall baggage was not as heavy on their relationship when they had started dating. But, ever since the recent Jessica Lall judgement, media spotlight and public opinion has been steadfastly focussed on Shayan. Predictably, it’s taken a toll on Peeya as well.
“I respect the fact that he’s maintained a silence and dignity despite all the public maligning,” she insists. There is a note of bitterness when she recalls the constant media attention they have to live with. “I feel there has been much attention on him unnecessarily. Why do people ask, `How can he live with himself?’ He can live with himself because he spoke out of his conscience,” she says. “Put yourself in his shoes. He was only 21 when the incident occurred. He had to give up the MBA he was pursuing at IIBM and leave Delhi because of the pressure.”
She, the innocent one, is suddenly in the middle of all this. That’s a lot to cope with, surely. She says, “I haven’t had the time to think of what I’m feeling. I guess the thought of what Shayan’s going through just occupies my mind. The only thing I feel is that I have to be a pillar of strength, be true to him and keep up the faith. One needs to be positive when thrown in such difficult situations.” And truly, she has been a pillar of strength, through the rough times right up to time when she accompanied Shayan for questioning. “I was told not to speak as I was un-informed, but I have been allowed to sit-in and have been with him to his questioning session,” she says.
Even when she was a student at National College, she took up the job of a VJ with Channel V, to be able to earn enough and put herself through an acting course at the New York Film Academy. She met Shayan at a friend’s party around four years ago. They hung around in the same circle of friends, took backpacking trips and group holidays, and then decided there was more in it for them than casual friendship. “We practically discovered India together. We started going out around eight months after we met, on this backpacking trip to the Himachal.” Three and a half years since, the couple were married on December 25 last year. But the chaotic year was beyond her anticipation.
“I knew about the Jessica Lall case, when I got into the relationship, but I never envisaged all the twists and turns it would take. I didn’t imagine that going on a honeymoon, one of the closest periods of a couple’s life, would turn out like this. Since the decision, there have been a lot of eyes on us. When we went out we always felt people were passing a judgement on us. This is why, for most of the time, we stayed at home.”
So, how has she come to terms with Shayan’s past? “I have gotten to know Shayan as a person and have full faith in him. His conscience is clear. This situation would have sent any other man through the roof. As for me, I take it as something being asked of me by my destiny.”
One of the worst things she has to deal with is a feeling of uncertainty. “Even today we have no idea what will happen on July 28. Just as we had no idea about what was going to happen at the airport.”

This article first appeared in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: http://alturl.com/gcvq

‘Afghans need a Gandhi, like India

Posted on August 18, 2009 by rishimajumder

Salman Shahid—a Pakistani. Hanif Hamgam–an Afghan. Both essay their own nationalities in Kabul Express. Both are politically aware. As reel turns real and vice-versa, Rishi Majumder listens on

Photographer: Rana Chakraborty

SALMAN SHAHID: You know this is the first time I’ve worked in an Indian film. It’s been a fulfilling experience—right from the places I have visited to the fact that this is a ‘different’ kind of an Indian film. What do you think Hamgam saab?

HANIF HAMGAM: It’s been a good experience (laughs). Over 50 per cent of the population understand Urdu, so following a Hindi film is not a problem. Everything has been destroyed though, thanks to the 30-year war. We have been plucked out by the roots.

SHAHID: And yet, you have a film like Osama—made by a resident of Kabul.

HAMGAM: …and which has won a Golden Globe as well. But I’m talking generally. I hope India, Pakistan and Afghanistan work together in future. I hope we make a lot of films again and can show them abroad, like Indians do. I hope we can unite, possess a world market… and Inshallah… make excellent cinema!

SHAHID: The Pakistan government is not as supportive of the arts as its Indian counterpart. But to fight is in man’s nature, and so you have filmmakers putting out work like Khamosh Paani—which had Kiron Kher, an Indian actress, in the lead. The rise of pop culture is inevitable–one cannot cry ‘uniformity’, but heritage breathes via state patronage.

HAMGAM: We’ve had war in our country for over 5000 years. We’ve been attacked many times during the British—and they have lost. And so we have never been ‘colonialised’. There was a saying that an Afghan is invincible. But the bombings to end the Taliban regime, has shaken our belief in that. We had a King Amanullah, who in the 1920s launched a reform programme which if implemented, would have made Afghanistan the first country, to give women the right to vote. But the British, sensing his power, sponsored a coup to topple him—they were the Taliban then. Ironically the Taliban regime subjected women of the same country to such oppression. Even during Dawood Khan’s rule – which was heavily communist, there were some excellent reforms instituted. These were disbanded for a long time—but now, post the Taliban regime, we are going back on the track of those reforms.

SHAHID: But do you think the Taliban are from Pakistan? Because that is the impression being given by Kabul Express, and an opinion held by many. The Taliban may have been used by Pakistan and the USA—their strong fervour may have been exploited, but they were and are from Afghanistan itself.

HAMGAM: Yes. For Afghans may fight against one another, but will kill any foreigner who comes to rule them. But the Talibans played a role in a script… written by Pakistan on being pushed to do so by USA.

SHAHID: (laughs)… well, a lot of things which were done on being pushed by USA. Nevertheless, that man named Pervez Musharraf may say a lot of untrue things, but what he’s saying about the Taliban today is true—they are beyond Pakistan and USA’s control. Just like so many problems in India—the North East, for instance—have gone out of control.
I think what the Afghans need the most today is to be united, and not fight amongst one another in their own backyard.

hanif hamgam and salman shahid (talking)

HAMGAM: What the Afghans need is a Gandhi like India had—who did not fight for a position, or a Jinnah like Pakistan had, who was a national figure. The old Badshah has been re-instated but he couldn’t do much even earlier… we notice a lot of problems… problems Pakistan does not have.

SHAHID: Pakistan also has problems, come on!

HAMGAM: Maybe, but not to the extent that we do… but yes we must change this attitude. We keep fighting among each other—only to turn together on a foreigner who tries to intervene. We need a permanent nationalism.

SHAHID: Absolutely! Not an ‘eye for an eye’ tribal system. Leaders should be determined by vision, not guns.

HAMGAM: Arre, people have come to be very disillusioned by all this politics. What about your country, Shahid saab, and the American influence therein?

SHAHID: Well, there was Ayub Khan’s removal… Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s removal. It is amazing how many things we, being mere actors, come to know of. One evening I was sitting with a social worker and the American Consul General and we brought up this issue of American intervention. The Consul General got up to leave in irritation, dismissively saying, “It is not important!” And that’s the crucial problem of the west at large: indifference on the field and ignorance at home.

HAMGAM: In our country the poorest village boy will give you his analysis of what the politics is… he hangs on to every word he receives on the radio to give him an idea.

SHAHID: Because it matters to his life and death, and he doesn’t have other ‘preoccupations’. The Americans have their burgers, coke and computer games. It’s like a rich kid asking his mummy, “Who are these starving people?”

HAMGAM: (laughs) And mummy says, “Grow up… maybe then you’ll know.”

SHAHID: (laughs) And then we have American tourists coming down to Afghanistan and Pakistan, looking genuinely befuddled as to why people are hostile, or want to kill them! They haven’t the faintest clue! Whereas people in Afghanistan or Pakistan or India know lots about the happenings in America.

HAMGAM: But how much do you think Indians know about Pakistan or Afghanistan?

SHAHID: Very little, considering how much we know about India. I think there again it’s because India is the richer country which is always more isolated. I often get asked about how suppressed freedom of speech is, for instance. People should read the Pakistani newspapers to see the amount of open criticism the government receives.

hanif hamgam (talking) and salman shahid

HAMGAM: In Afghanistan too, I do a TV show calledZang E Khatar in which I openly criticize everyone in power and their misdeeds. But nothing matches Michael Moore’s film, where a government has received criticism while in power. Even Osama was made after the fall of the Taliban regime. But our film industry as a whole must be given time to develop.

SHAHID: We have had films like Hawa Ke Naam. Also Kabul Express has a very South Asian viewpoint, which is different from the normal lot of films on the issue, and is quite objective. Yet it isn’t totally objective – the partial truth but not the complete one. It is a film made to succeed at the box office after all, and pop culture has the attitude of reinforcing public opinion instead of changing it. Still, I see it as a huge effort.

HAMGAM: You know, we don’t want an external cultural invasion in Afghanistan. We have a very distinct culture—in our villages and towns. Only the media can, by being responsible, attain this. For instance, we don’t want our languages to be corrupted.

SHAHID: I think along borders—whether with India or Afghanistan—our cultures are very similar on either sides. But still, if borders have been made, people must understand their purpose. Many Belgians speak French, but their borders are still respected. Only if this respect is sustained can one go along building ties.
Masrood Ashini a youngster from International TV of Kabul, with Hanif Hamgam: Having sat through this entire discussion, I want to say something. If a house catches fire, and people either ignore it, or pour in some petrol – either way with the aim of destruction – then the house may be burnt down, but the fire will continue to spread…

HAMGAM: Not so far back, this fire spread all the way to New York.

a still from Kabul Express

This article originally appeared in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: http://alturl.com/osam

A HOOKER AT FIFTY

Posted on August 17, 2009 by rishimajumder

Rishi Majumder and Rana Chakraborty chance upon Mehboobi, an unlikely dreg of the city’s flesh trade

Photographer: Rana Chakraborty, but obviously

The woman in the picture, being dragged onto the Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus pavement by two female constables, calls herself Mehboobi. She is a 50-year-old sex worker. She was hauled over the divider where she was sitting by four constables – two male and two female, who beat her while dragging her across the road. On seeing the photographer taking out his camera for a photograph, the constables stopped beating her. The two male constables stood aside and let only the female constables drag her. Prerna, an NGO renowned for it’s documentation and active involvement in the sex workers issue puts the number of sex workers in Mumbai at over 5,00,000. Sex workers aged 50 or more are fewer in number but not unheard of. Sex workers facing an altercation with the police are definitely not unheard of. Why then are we doing this story?
Because some scenes, however repetitive, continue to disturb. Because this incident, which occurred a few weeks before International Woman’s Day, revolves around one representing every criteria of the downtrodden: a woman who is poor, old and denied respect. And because, as Mehboobi reveals over a cup of chai at Pila Haus, Kamatipura, the reasons for this photograph go far beyond a quarrel with the police…

UPTO AGE 12, KURNOOL, ANDHRA PRADESH
My village lies near Kurnool, Andhra Pradesh. Once, many generations back, my family was into saree weaving. Then the business died down. I don’t know why. My father and mother were landless labourers, working as farmers on another’s land. I had to help out in the fields too – and I hated it. I would rather do housework. So my father, mother and especially my aunt beat and scolded me when I refused to go or cried. A lady, who had left my village, came in from Bombay. She was very well dressed and rich. She told me, “Why don’t you come to Bombay with me. My daughter works there as a maid. She’s earning Rs 1,000 a month.” She said I would be back in a few months, with money for my parents – and I wouldn’t have to do farm work either. So the night she was to leave, I ran away from home, to meet her at her house.

Kurnool is in Andhra Pradesh’s Telengana region – famous the world over as one of India’s least developed areas. Residents of the region to date complain of the lack of government attention to the region where the education, irrigation, agriculture, industry and employment sectors are concerned. The economic disparity in the area has led it to become one of the Naxalite hotbeds.

FROM AGES 12 TO 25, BOMBAY,
MAHARASHTRA
In Bombay I was kept locked in a house with three storeys in the Pila Haus area. It belonged to a madam called Shanta Bai. I was taken out only to be taken to different Madams or brothels, where they mostly said I was too young to be put into the trade. Then when I was 14, Shanta Bai’s brother raped me. After that many customers followed. In a room on the ground floor of the same house, with three or four managers sitting outside for security. For a long time I got no money for this work, only food and a place to stay. After some years I shifted to work with another madam – then another. We shifted either because the place we were in was to be raided, or because we were sold. I had a daughter when I was 25. Someone informed my Khaala, a relative who stayed at Jogeshwari. She took my daughter away because she didn’t want her to be in my trade, saying: “Tera saaya se usein door rakhna hai.” I haven’t seen my daughter since.

Vijay Raghavan, assistant professor at TISS, who’s heading a Prayas field action project involving sex workers doesn’t want to comment on the proportion of people involved in the flesh trade who belong to other states because political parties might then interpret this as an outsider’s issue. “Whereas 60 per cent of Mumbaikars are migrants in that sense,” he reiterates. “Don’t we matter?” He claims the focus has to lie on prevention: “The police should check such trafficking at the primary bus and railway stations. There should be a separate intelligence unit for human trafficking, like the Anti Narcotics Bureau for drug trafficking.” Preeti Patkar, executive secretary and director of Prerna, points out: “Whereas earlier the areas targeted for such trafficking were Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh and Nepal, today West Bengal, Bangladesh, Madhya Pradesh and Rajasthan are targeted equally.” States like Punjab and Haryana, she claims, are used for trafficking women abroad or to Delhi: “So few Indian states are left untouched.”

FROM AGE 25 TO 50, MUMBAI MAHARASHTRA
Once, a man who said he loved me paid my madam Rs 10,000 to take me with him to his village near Azamgarh in UP. After a year there, the village elders, his wife and his brothers said, “Choose between living here and living with her.” So he gave me my bus fare and told me to go back to Bombay saying, “Aurat log to milegi. Bhai log kahaan milega?” When I was 30, there was a raid at the brothel I was at and we were sent back to our villages. There, as I expected, my family disowned me saying I was “as good as dead for them”. My mama stood at the village outskirts with a sickle saying he would chop my head off if I dared enter. My only family then on was my best friend Kamala, from Karnataka, who soon died of AIDS herself. Yet, who’ll give me other work with my background? I asked a magistrate once, “Mujhein izzat nahin dete ho, par koi kaam to do?” His reply was, “Maine tum logon ka theka nahin leke rakha hai.” The rare cases in which I have seen girls get out of this hell is through marriage, where after they keep their pasts a secret.

Countries like Mexico have set up old age homes for aged ex-sex workers. “Having a separate home might lead to greater discrimination. But the acceptance of such victims into normal old age homes is necessary,” stresses Raghavan. “But then we don’t have government sponsored homes as a priority.” Raghavan says the older sex workers either resort to begging or doing menial jobs around the red light areas – which is all they get. “And that is for those who are lucky enough not to die of diseases before that.” Patkar, however, claims, “Rehabilitation is possible, if the society is accepting.” She quotes incidents of corporates (which she doesn’t want to name for obvious reasons) which have rehabilitated such victims “in proper 9 to 5 jobs”. “Yet this support is only a thin sliver of light in a very dark tunnel.”

AGE 50, OUTSIDE CHHATRAPATI
SHIVAJI TERMINUS
The police asked me why I was hanging around. I said, “I’m not harming anyone.” They caught me and started dragging me across the road, beating me meanwhile, saying they’ll take me to the thana. I had an operation on my arm recently, so I told them not to hit that. But they kept on raining blows on my arm. I said, “Do you really think I come here at age 50 for my daily pleasure?” But they just kept hitting me, and kept me in the lock up for a day. Next day, I wasn’t even given a chance to speak before the magistrate. A fine of Rs 300 was fixed without me being heard… With 1200 being my average monthly earning, and such fines being slapped every other day, where do I go?

Such fines are slapped under Section 110 of the Bombay Police Act for indecent behaviour in a public place or Section 145 B of the Railway Act for loitering in the premises. “But such fines are self-defeating. They lead to greater borrowing from pimps and moneylenders,” Raghavan points out. The Immoral Traffic Prevention Act on the other hand which targets soliciting, gives the judge discretion to send the sex worker to a rehabilitation home. “But this act isn’t used because it’s found too cumbersome, and the other two acts are open to often being interpreted wrongly,” Raghavan winds up. Patkar however has another take: “Considering the long years I have been here, I have seen the police improve drastically in their treatment of women involved as ‘victims’ rather than ‘accused’, and their willingness to use the ITPA.” Would you agree?

This article originally appeared in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: http://alturl.com/9u5p

Houseful at Pila Haus

Posted on August 17, 2009 by rishimajumder

Rishi Majumder sifts the sands of time to discover this neighbourhood’s once illustrious past

Photographer: Rana Chakraborty

Gulshan Talkies at Pila Haus

There are two kinds of cab drivers in Mumbai. One reacts with a semi-smirk when a man calls “Pila Haus” as desired destination. The other, more decent kind, nods with a slight but visible stiffening of the neck. The name Pila Haus is a colloquial distortion of ‘play house’ which was what the British dubbed this area bordering Kamathipura because of the various theatres flourishing there. Today swallowed in one of the world’s most famous red light areas, these theatres have either been demolished, or converted into cinema halls. Gulshan Theatre, for instance, was converted and re-baptized from the hugely popular and historic Bombay Theatre in 1972. Here’s its memory lane tour, with our feet firmly in the present.
“Actors, dancers, singers and musicians from abroad, London especially, used to perform in these theatres for Europeans,” theatre director and producer Sam Kerawaala remembers of the theatres in Pila Haus. “It was a posh area then.” One written account talks of a Bombay Theatre being set up in 1750 (one of Mumbai’s first) for British clerks and army officers, with entry restricted to Europeans only.
At Rs 13 and 15 for a ticket, Phool Aur Kaante is playing through four shows at Gulshan Talkies to almost full houses. The morning 10 o’clock slot however, is reserved for a film genre locally referred to as ‘sexy film’, read: B grade semi porn. Ajay Devgan — today’s minimalism maestro —
jumps, hits a wall, rebounds with three flying kicks, and ultimately uses his boot to stall a goon’s knife as it approaches actress Madhu’s throat. An all male crowd dressed in a mix of lungis and faded, torn trousers roars at this 1991 stunts as if it was just invented. Away from its history, Gulshan Talkies is stuck in a time warp of its own.
“I remember watching Parsi Gujarati plays in Bombay Theatre when I was a child,” says 74-year- old Pervez Dara Mehta, an old hand. He recounts that Parsi theatre groups dominated the Bombay theatre scene between the late 18 and early 1900s. “Some plays would begin at 10 pm and go on till two in the morning – with upto six ‘oncores’.” He tells us of a popular Parsi theatre genre called “seria-comic”, which encapsulated extremes of tragedy (seriousness), comedy and the in-between in a four-hour production.
The collapsible entrance gates to Gulshan theatre are shut during intervals for crowd control. Sherbet, anda pav and chewda vendors declare their wares through these gates. Sherbet is priced at Rs 2 and a popcorn packet costs Rs 3. Inflation has passed this place by. Like the sex workers, charas vendors and slot machines down the road which supposedly provide the cheapest rates in the city, the cinema halls comply with this once “posh” area’s current brand equity.
“Bombay Theatre was a prized performance space for Tamashas,” says Madhukar Nirale, owner of what was the famed Hanuman Theatre. “Maybe it was because of the quality of the hall – cushioned seating and many fans…” Nirale maintains that the popularity of these performances in the area came about in the 1930s to blossom post-Independence: “It was probably because of the markets in adjoining areas. The working class connected with Tamashas, given their religious themes and local flavour.”
Shouts of protest emerge from the audience’s lips in the 725-seater as the movie cuts a scene abruptly during reel change. The projection comes with white scratch lines running over Ajay Devgan and Amrish Puri’s faces during intense scenes. Forty-six-year-old Fahad Mohammed is watching this film for the twentieth time. He loves the fact that it revolves around a father-son relationship. But he isn’t the only one who’s seen the film before. “The fact that I can watch this film on big screen as easily as I could have seen it on TV feels good,” says 23-yearold Khalid. As the audience disperses, the usher swears at a drunk who’s fallen asleep and refuses to budge. He’s then unceremoniously dragged out by hair and limb and thrown on the street. He still refuses to budge.

This article originally appeared in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: http://alturl.com/4miw

COFFEE AT KAMATHIPURA

Posted on August 17, 2009 by rishimajumder

Rishi Majumder does some cutting chai at Bharat Coffee House, once a haunt of ace theatrewallahs, now Kamathipura’s one-stop-shop

Photographer: Rana Chakraborty

bharat coffee house

Ye zindagi ke mele,
Ye zindagi ke mele,
Duniya mein kam naa honge,
Afsos, hum naa honge…
This is what’s playing in Bharat Coffee House now. Movie: Mela; Music director: Naushad Ali; Singer: Mohammed Rafi; Lyricist: Shakel Badayuni; Year of release: 1948. Which was when Bharat Coffee House set up shop. The semi-circular cafe built on a corner marks the beginning of Pila Haus. Then, a hub for theatre folks, this café would burst intellectual debates and animated chats on the nuances of drama. Today, with Pila Haus a metaphor world over for ‘red light area’, those nuances go unnoticed. Local populi sip their ‘cutting’ casually, as the café’s primary customer base—prostitutes, pimps and johnnies—cut their deals. Sitting at the café’s far end (its choicest seat) one can observe life on three streets which converge to meet the Pila Haus lane. One also observes a red light on the traffic signal at the crossroads, symbolising a ‘no exit’, on the otherwise two-way street for its hapless residents. For women who’re too old to leave the flesh trade, or too young to be allowed to, Bharat Coffee House is their last stop for the day, every day, every year. Oh! One also observes the Pila Haus Police Chowki 100 feet away. No tragedy is replete sans irony.
Pyaar deewaana hota hai, Mastaana hota hai… starts playing from Kati Patang, released, 1970. The end of the ’70s signed off the absolute conversion of Bharat Coffee House’s clientele. Besides the decrepit walls, the period motif on the building’s exterior and aged wooden tables and benches, the music—refusing to extend beyond the ’70s—remains the only living connection between the past and the present. “Har khushi se, har gham se begaana hota hai…” hums a man, at the next table, smiling at another across him. A conversation ensues over chai-samosa:
Man 1: You liked? Rs 500.
Man 2: I have only 200.
Man 1: You can’t pay for me for Opera House if you want me to take you till Juhu.

Man 2: 300.
Man 1: (Points to our table and then his plate): You can’t have Mutton Curry for the price of a samosa.
Five slot machines coloured yellow, blue and silver line one wall, with names like Super Bonus, Hast Rekha, City World and 7 Star. A man in a faded crème shirt strides in, confidently drunk, to a painted blue desk dispensing cheap slot tokens for believers in fate. He’s dark, reed thin and balding. His only distinguishing facial feature, is his moustache. Clipped, so there’s a half-inch gap between it and his nose; it stands out like a comical inverse to Hitler’s (and Chaplin’s) toothbrush.
“Kaanton se kheench ke ye aanchal, Tod ke bandhan baandhi paayal.”
1965, Guide. Three youngsters approach a woman sitting at a table, heavily made up. They appear to agree to what she says, but indicate by gesture that all three of them will be involved. She walks away. The man in crème staggers to the slot machines. He inserts a token.
“Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna hai, Aaj phir marne ka iraada hai.”
He waits for the result. After a minute of silence, he goes to the next. Then the next. His speed of slot-machine coin dropping increases with the song’s tempo.
“Kal ke andheron se nikalke, Dekha hai
aankhen malte malte, Phool hi phool—zindagi bahaar hai, Tay kar liya aaj phir…”
Jackpot! ‘Super Bonus’ has dealt him a super bonus! He dances to the song’s refrain.
“I was an excellent dancer and singer,” a drunk and elated Farooq tells us later over coffee. Now he’s a car mechanic, peddling his services on the road. Having lost his wife and children, who’ve left him to go back to their village, he had today lost most of his weekly income—before making it up at the slots. “Par bhagwaan ne diya na?” He insists and launches into a mimic of Mukesh’s voice, drowning the current track. Slurring, he asks us for a singing assignment. Close to us sits a man marketing a woman who can do an Umraao Jaan, “Rekha or Priyanka – you choose.”

This article originally appeared in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: http://alturl.com/opwz

I saw Farooq around about a year after this article, near Metro Cinema. He was as drunk, and abusing and punching the air. Was late for something, so couldn’t catch up with him…