savegoa

Accidental Activist

How I Started A Riot

by Venita Coelho

I did. Really. This is a true story.

It sneaked up on me. All I was doing was keeping my appointment with the Mamlatdar. Having applied for my Voters Identity Card I had been issued a receipt and an appointment for 10 a.m. on Monday 4th at the Mamlatdars office, Mapusa. I arrived to discover that not only me, but, by a mistake, the entire district of Bardez had been given exactly the same time. There were people jammed in the corridor, on the steps, breathing in each others armpits, jostling, shoving and wondering what the hell was going on. There was no information to be had at all. We didn’t know if we were in the right place, how long we would have to wait, where exactly we were supposed to go…nothing.

To breathe you had to stick your elbows into your neighbours ribs to get some leverage, stand on tiptoe and stick your nose above the crowd. The situation was impossible. More and more people arrived. There were no lights or fans in the corridor. Children started screaming, women were being crushed. Then the first woman fainted.

That did it for me.

I discovered that the hard edge that was cutting my knee in half was actually a bench that I was being crushed against by the crowd. I climbed up and vented my spleen ‘Is this the way to treat people? Are we cattle? If so many people were being called, why haven’t arrangements been made? How dare we be treated like this?’

The crowd all grumbled their approval and support. The only official reaction it got was that a couple of government guys in the office across the corridor yelled indignantly at me that we were inconsiderately blocking the corridor and their entrance.

That did it for the crowd.

In no time at all we were chanting ‘Mamlatdar Hai! Hai!’ A couple of more women fainted. The single policeman on duty blocked the door and tried to stop us from getting in. Tempers rose. I got on the phone and began calling the press. As soon as I got a press guy on line I would hold up the phone and yell ‘Times of India!’ and the crowd would roar ‘Mamlatdaar Hai! Hai’. Being a Goan crowd it was all in good spirits. People were laughing, smiling and protesting.

Finally after much yelling the Mamlatdar came out. When we demanded to know why no arrangements were being made, why we were all being forced through this torturous procedure she had no reply. All she said was ‘then go downstairs.’ This display of official apathy made me see red. I yelled into the crowd – ‘Does anyone know who her boss is?’ A dozen voices yelled ‘the Collector!’ So we called the Collector. He was out. I got the Additional Collector on the line. By now the crowd knew the drill. I held up the phone and they roared ‘MAMLATDAR – HAI! HAI!’

The Additional Collector promised he would do something. He did – but not quite what we expected. In a short while five policemen arrived. They shoved their way through the crowd and barricaded the entrance so none of us could go in. We were outraged.

I had had enough. I got the Chief Ministers number from a friend and dialled it. The crowd went silent, no one quite believing that I was actually doing it. The phone rang – and Digambar Kamat picked up. I explained the situation then held up the phone. The crowd roared ‘MAMLATDAR HAI!HAI!’ The Chief Minister politely said ‘I cannot do anything immediately, I’m in the middle of a Cabinet meeting.’ I thanked him and hung up. Who do you appeal to after the Chief Minister? Nobody outranks him.

Yet another woman fainted. The woman next to me had climbed up on the bench to prevent her two children from being crushed. The kids were screaming in panic. The crowd continued to grow larger.

The press arrived. The crowd yelled for the cameras. We held up our Voters ID receipts and demanded to know why we were being treated like this. If it is our democratic right to get a Voters ID then it is the duty of the administration to provide a procedure that is reasonable. Not one that tests strength of soul and body and leaves you feeling like you are a bit of dirt, completely meaningless in the eyes of the government.

The good natured crowd was restive and quite outraged that the police were being used against them instead of helping sort out the situation. One bright spark yelled ‘Ganpati Bapa Moriya!’ and to that battle cry the crowd began swaying back and forward, shoving hard against the cops. I co-ordinated from my bench. We shoved back and forth, and as we did I marvelled at the crowd. In Calcutta within five minutes of the protest beginning, there would have been shattering glass, violence, and the office would have been wrecked. It says much for the essential good nature of the Goan that even while protesting it was done without real violence of malice.

The police line held up. I didn’t. I suddenly began to feel weak kneed and faint. I had been standing on a bench and yelling for two hours. I sat down on the bench I had used as a pulpit and realised that this was going nowhere. We had done as much protesting as we could. And the sum result had been zero.

I discovered the next day that it hadn’t. The Mamlatdars office had extended the date for interviews across another five days thanks to the protest. So off I went to the Mamlatdar to keep our long delayed date.

This time I was standing in front of her in five minutes. I saw a plump, harassed looking lady surrounded by dozens of people waving papers. Huge piles of dusty files teetered on her desk. She looked at the end of her tether. After she signed my form I spoke up ‘Ma’am I’d like to volunteer for something.’
‘What?’ she snapped.
I explained that I had been leading the protest and the biggest problem had been that no one knew what they were supposed to do, where they were supposed to go, what the procedure was. If she didn’t mind I’d like to create a series of large printed posters that would explain in simple terms the procedure for each of the functions of the Mamlatdars office. Simple, easy to understand stuff in Hindi, English and Konkani. She paused and looked at me ‘We have been asking the government for funds to do that for ages.’ I said I’d find the funds. Simple easy-to-access information would save the public so much torture – and prevent future riots. ‘We would be happy to accept the offer’ she said with a sigh. I left my name and number.

PS. A day later I was driving when a taxi came level with me. The driver cheerfully yelled ‘Mamlatdar hai! Hai!’ flashed me a thumbs up and sped off.

PPS. I wrote a letter to the Chief Minister which is enclosed below. No reply so far.

Dear Chief Minister,

Yesterday your government deprived me of my democratic right. It is my right to have a Voters Identity Card - just as it is the duty of your government and the Election Commissioner to provide a reasonable process for me to get one.

Having submitted my forms I was called for a hearing with the Mapusa Mamlatdar at 10:30 a.m. I arrived - only to discover that every single applicant from the entire district of Bardez had been given exactly the same time.

There were hundreds of people jammed into a tiny corridor and up a flight of stairs. There was not a single notice with any information. So immense was the crush that women began to faint. There were old people, women, even women with young children, being pushed and crushed. The conditions were torturous.

In desperation we rallied around and demanded that the Mamlatdar come out and explain to us what was going on and to make proper arrangements. Surely the office knows how many are likely to turn up and should have made proper arrangements. The Mamlatdar came out for a moment and her only response was to tell us ‘Go downstairs.’

I then called the Additional Collector who told me that something would be done. Nothing was. When our protest got louder, five policemen arrived. Not to solve our problems but to barricade the door so that no one could go in. The heat and the crowd got progressively worse.

In sheer frustration I finally got your number from the media and telephoned you. I was pleasantly surprised when you took the call. You have partially restored my belief in your assertion of trying to create a ‘people friendly’ government. But to do that, you have to first teach the bureaucracy to not take the people of Goa for granted. It is official arrogance and apathy that puts the ordinary man through much trouble.

Surely, if hundreds of people are expected to come in to verify their forms some sort of basic arrangement needs to be made? Is this not what the government is for ? Surely, if a Mamlatdar is questioned legitimately by the people she needs to respond in a better fashion? Surely, if the police are called in, it should be to help handle the situation, not to be used against the people who are already going through hell?

A voters I.D. is everyone’s basic democratic right. This right is taken from them when the conditions are made so difficult that it is impossible to persist. Let me tell you who was standing in the crowd – among others, a mother with an autistic child, a lady of 72 with arthritis, a mother who brought both her children - who began to panic and scream in the crush. Ordinary people, Mr. Chief Minister. Ordinary, well meaning, law abiding citizens, who suddenly found themselves treated like stray cattle. Who were forced to stand for over two hours in inhuman conditions.

We deserve a process which allows us our dignity. We were denied it.

I waited two hours determined that I would get my ID. Finally I became the fifth woman to faint. I was forced to return home.

I am requesting you to restore a basic democratic right not just to me but to all those who were forced to give up in the face of the inhuman conditions. Please immediately announce another date and this time let the Mamlatdar’s office indulge in some basic planning. This is easily done - large notices with information, and a system of issuing numbered tokens and adequate arrangements for water and seating. Above all teach the Mamlatdar’s office that the people can no longer be taken for granted.

People cannot be taken for granted Mr. Chief Minister. And they will no longer be. As Gram Sabha after Gram Sabha shows, across Goa people are standing up for their rights.

Democracy starts with the right to vote. We ask you to restore that to us.

Sincerely

Venita Coelho
Moira

Accidental Activist

How I Started A Riot

From the Discussion Forum