Amidst the busyness that engulfs the lanes of Nehru Camp in the early afternoon, conversations about the impeding municipal elections, scheduled for April 15, are under way. Alongside the business of filling water, there are the cries of unattended children, casual loud banter and gossip among the women, and the high-pitched callings of the passing salesmen who offer “branded” shampoos at half price, silverware, or DVD players on instalments.
This camp, along with Navjeevan and Bhumiheen Camps, is a slum settlement which falls in Kalkaji municipal ward. Popularly and collectively the camps are referred to as either the slum of Govindpuri, an adjoining lower middle-class area, or the slum across from the DDA LIG (Low Income Group) flats. Posters and flags of the three contesting parties — BJP, Congress and BSP — are ingeniously woven into the temporary architectural spaces available.
The parties’ investment in signage is a clear statement: the slum is a significant votebank and residents are well aware of their importance. The task of translating this voter base into a victory for a party is not an easy one, and two local women political leaders of Nehru Camp, named Saroj and Sayyada, are reflecting on the work involved. In their work the boundaries between the personal and the political collapse.
At present, the most aggressive campaigning is being undertaken by BJP with the Congress and BSP keeping a low profile. The popular reckoning is that these parties will come into full action closer to the elections, and this is indeed strategic. The Congress can afford the delay, as its incumbent candidate is likely to stand again. The BSP, being a new entrant here, is only going to take the plunge once it has carefully studied the existing strategies.
Saroj and Sayyada have been involved in recruiting women from the camps for the last 20 years in different elections — central, state and municipal — for different parties. At the most basic level it is the women in the immediate, trusted networks of neighbours and extended families that they reach out to. “Even though the general idea is that women are illiterate, gullible and easily influenced by men,” Saroj says, “for any party it is the women who, if approached properly, can be a valuable resource, as they are the ones who deal with the problems at an everyday level — water, electricity, and sanitation.”
She identifies her role as being the effective intermediary for the parties. “After all, who better to convey the message than us who face the same problems.”
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But it is not only the shared experiences which encourage women to join. Sayyada says that a significant investment of time, and often money, is also required, as also the assurance of facilities. Most important, however, is the assurance of support in times of immediate crisis. “I have accompanied women to hospitals and the police station in the middle of the night and shared my ration, even though I did not have enough for my family,” said Sayyada.
Saroj and Sayyada make an interesting pair. The former is a wiry, beedi-smoking, lower-caste Hindu and the latter a quiet yet astute Muslim. Their respective religious affiliations are continually highlighted and they insist that one of their tasks as leaders is to bridge that gap; “Of course we do not want to ask anyone to give up their beliefs. Instead, we spread the word of tolerance.”
One of the ways to do so is by avoiding meats considered objectionable by the other person; and in case the objectionable meat has been prepared in either of the homes, it is made public knowledge and water, if and when asked for, is refused to the other at such times. Saroj concludes on this matter thus: “If we have to give up one thing for the larger good, what is the harm?”
In fulfilling their role as leaders, their interest is far from monetary. Their aim, they both say almost at the same time, is to have a sense of “individual respect, collective dignity and voice for the residents of the slums”.
Towards the end of this conversation, visiting cards are offered and exchanged. Sayyada gives me hers — she is the only one who has one — and humorously says, “I really wanted a visiting card, and in the first decade of being a leader hoped that one of the parties would get it printed for me. None did. And finally, a couple of years back, I got it printed with my own money. Since then I am often teased for being in politics only to have a card.”
Tea, biscuits, photographs and more laughter follow.
The writer is a Postdoctoral Fellow at the Asia Research Institute of the National University of Singapore
