The late economic historian Dharma Kumar used to remark that to be old and poor was a terrible predicament anywhere but it was a fate not to be countenanced in India. As someone who had researched agricultural servitude in south India with scholarly brio, she thought that too much was made of the vaunted Indian notion of respect for the elderly. In most parts of India, the aged were simply among the first outcastes.
Old age, though, can haunt not only the materially indigent—it can prey upon the well-off and well-educated, as has come to light in the strange case of Lotika Sarkar, once an eminent professor at the law faculty at Delhi University, who has, by her own account to the police, been done out of her home by Nirmal Dhoundial, an IPS officer from Bihar, and his family. At first it seems like a case of shocking land grab: a lonely widow, suffering from the loss of her husband (journalist Chanchal Sarkar who died in 2005) becomes physically and emotionally dependent on a friendly and caring family. But Dhoundial has produced documents to show that part of the valuable property was legally gifted by Prof Sarkar to his wife in 2007. The professor says she could never have knowingly given her property away; the police officer’s response is that he will return the professor’s house, provided she spends 10 days with his family. And so the story acquires subtler, more sinister overtones.
Legally the question may turn on whether a gift, once made, can be taken back. But was 86-year-old Prof Sarkar in sound mind when she made the gift? Dhoundial himself admits her short-term memory was bad. And oddly for a legal luminary the gift deed has no witnesses from her side. There is a worse angle: a maid who worked for Prof Sarkar is laying claim to part of the servants’ quarters.
The case has alarmed many people, including the chief minister, who sent round a delegation to ascertain that Prof Sarkar was safe, as well as the Bihar police, who want to know how Dhoundial’s wife accepted a gift worth crores without placing it on official record.
But surely the bigger story is about the isolation and vulnerability of the old? Crumbling family structures, distanced or unavailable relatives and growing infirmity in a large city, can place a heavy burden of alienation among the elderly. Prof Sarkar’s case is of a type that is likely to become commonplace as India’s population of the aged grows by leaps and bounds. It is expected to reach 137 million by 2021—the second largest in the world. One analyst wryly comments that longevity is perhaps India’s single most stunning achievement in the last century. Whereas it took France 120 years for the population of the elderly to double, it has taken India just 25 years—up from 19 million in 1951 to 77 million in 2001 and well over a 100 million by now.
For the poor there is no safety net so, as Dharma Kumar pointed out, their fate is blanked out and their stories go unrecorded because they have nothing to leave behind. But those with assets, especially if they are single, are prone to a host of indignities and crime. Despite the valiant efforts of organizations like Helpage, the concept of retirement homes with specialized medical care is not widespread enough. Nor are there enough legally secure arrangements for the old to live in the comfort and security of their own homes. A common practice in the West is to enter into binding contracts over property: a home-owner can sell her property in advance provided the buyer guarantees an income—with regular increments to cover cost-of-living and healthcare expenses—during the owner’s lifetime. Such arrangements are sanctioned by city authorities and supervised by authorized social workers.
If such norms existed, the elderly could confidently resist the birds of prey that start circling overhead.
