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“In death, there is peace; there is terror only in fear of death.” T his quote crossed my mind when Sathya explained how people generally associate graveyards with negativity. Yet for her and her family, the graveyard is a place of peace, their entire world. “If we have to clear our heads, we sit here on the gravestone,” Sathya said. Sathya is the daughter of Sowri Raj, a member of the graveyard community in Kalpalli, Bengaluru. Her father works as a gravedigger, and she handles documentation in the office at the graveyard. She was the first person I met from the community. Upon entering the graveyard, the first thing I noticed was an ongoing cremation. Although I had expected it, I was still astonished to watch it unfold. What struck me next was how casually people and animals sat on gravestones. Children played nearby as if it were a park. It felt unfamiliar to me as I had always associated graveyards with sadness and grief. When I asked Sathya about the experiences of children in the community and their aspirations, she recalled an incident involving a boy F. A teacher had asked the students what they wanted to become when they grew up. When F stood up enthusiastically to answer, the teacher cut him off, saying, “Oh, all you’re going to do in life is dig holes. S it down.” Sathya said she noticed a clear decline in his morale afterward. “The label stays with us no matter where we go,” she commented. Despite attending school, the children are often led to believe that gravedigging is their only possible future. Sathya believes the children’s futures largely depend on how society views and supports them. I later had the opportunity to meet some of the children in the community. They appeared both carefree and enthusiastic. Though initially shy, they enjoyed playing together and gradually opened up. I asked them whether they had faced any discrimination from friends or at school. One boy, K, shared that while his friends treated him normally, a teacher once asked whether he participated in “saavu kuthu” during funerals — a traditional dance performed in southern India during death rituals. Such a comment is not only inappropriate but also deeply insensitive, stereotypical, and ignorant. A girl, J, mentioned that she sometimes felt that her classmates looked down on her because of her family’s occupation. Sathya believes children are like wet cement. They take the shape of whatever is pressed into them. When children are repeatedly subjected to discrimination in spaces that are supposed to promote equality, it becomes difficult for them to strive for more. She also noted that, due to their circumstances and negative experiences, many children are not hopeful about careers beyond gravedigging. Some even question the value of education. Parents often have to push their children to attend school, hoping that education will offer them a better life. Fortunately, some parents are very supportive and believe their children can accomplish anything they set their minds to. Despite attending the same schools as other children in the city, these children often feel excluded from what is considered “mainstream” society. J spoke about a program led by Samuel Gladson, a former assistant professor at SJCC, and Gleeda D’Silva, which significantly boosted the children's interest in academics. Before this program, they seemed to lack the support and encouragement others received. They said Gladson and Gleeda felt like older siblings, and the tutoring sessions were not just educational but something they genuinely looked forward to. E ven though many of the children have experienced discrimination, they are not entirely afraid to dream. K, for example, wants to be a football player. J, a 16-year-old girl, aspires to become an IAS officer. While challenges persist, the children remain enthusiastic and make time to enjoy life. Meeting them was the most heartwarming and hopeful part of this project. Sathya also recounted an incident from the COVID-19 pandemic. During that time, many graveyards refused to accept bodies of those who had died from COVID due to fear of infection. Her father, Sowri, however, stepped forward and accepted several of these bodies for burial. This act marked the beginning of a quiet but powerful call for humanity. Despite his desire for a better future for his children and his efforts to educate them, he deeply respected his own profession. He believed that not everyone could do what he did and was willing to risk his life because, in his words, it would be inhumane and unfair to deny people dignity in their final moments. “As humans, we are all equal in the presence of death.” This thought echoed in my mind during our conversation. Status, wealth, and social standing only matter while we are alive. These individuals are the ones who ensure we are laid to rest peacefully, regardless of caste, religion, or color, yet they are the ones society chooses to marginalize. Despite being subjected to discrimination, it’s clear that gravediggers embody a profound form of humanity. While working on this project, I noticed that many articles about this graveyard focused solely on alleged paranormal activities. When I brought this up with Sathya, she laughed and said she had never experienced anything like that. J had a similar reaction and even said she would find such an encounter amusing. K admitted he hadn’t seen anything either, although he was scared of ghosts. What struck me was how this space was largely represented in commercial or sensational terms, while the actual lives lived here were completely ignored. That realization stayed with me. Curious about how daily exposure to death affected them emotionally, I asked Sathya about it. She said that, at times, when families weep, the children weep with them. “No matter how many deaths you witness, you never really get used to it,” she said. The children agreed that although they had grown up around death and it didn’t trouble them daily, there were still moments that brought them to tears. Though the children may not always recognize the caste- and class-based prejudices they face, adults like Sathya are constantly fighting against these injustices. Despite these challenges, the children see a world full of possibilities. Their joy brings light to the community, and their stories helped me better understand their lives. This experience educated me, warmed my heart, and made me re-examine my own beliefs. Though we may not live in an ideal world, it’s important to dream of one — just as these children do — and to work toward making it a reality. Written by N R Muthu Meena.

Understanding material culture of marginalised, urban transwomen " S ome of us only have these cheap gold covering jewellery and synthetic sarees to roam around in but the confidence they afford us is immeasurable". The previous is a roughly translated statement from a transwomen whom I met during one of BIC's (Bangalore international centre) week long exhibitions in 2018. Shilpa, she said her name was, her nose pin glinting in the stretch of her smile. Shilpa had caught me stealing a glance at her gold studded ear; I usually make it point not to stare out of fear of being held guilty of mentally exoticing. " Yenna pa pudichiraka " (do you like what you see?) She said with an animated swirl of her Pallu. I nodded enthusiastically and smiled, I was embarrassed, caught off guard and wasn't sure back then what was the 'correct' way to respond and engage with a transperson. We exchanged names and made a little banter before we strayed away. We crossed paths at the foyer again, looking at portraits of transwomen,  " Idhula naa yaaru nu sollu paapom " she playfully inquired (spot me out in these potraits), I didn't have to look too hard, her affinity for bright pinks and heavy earrings was reflected uncanny in her portrait and her attire of the day. I told her she was fishing to be noticed with a chuckle. She introduced me to her sisters, Reshma and Kavi, we were soon making crude jokes about the attractive men we spotted walking about.  I met Shilpa and her 'gang' again in the Pride march of that year. I had just come out was unsure if it was too quick of me to make a public debut, I wore an all black, a very ‘hetero-norm’ abiding outfit. We both caught sight of each other and I definitely seemed lackluster in comparison to her gold and pink extravaganza. She joked about my outfit being funeral appropriate and I retorted the local circus wanted their tent back. That day I went back to her house, it was somewhere in Ulsooru. She gave me a pair of shorts to change into; the skinny jeans had my lower limbs in more or less a tourniquet. As she was taking off her jewellery, I got to see her anjaraipetti (a multi compartment box used for storing spices) with an assortment of gold and white stone ear studs and looping, dangling gold trinkets. "All of them are covering, only the ones I'm wear now are real" she directing my attention. Shilpa was actually the first person who taught me how to wear a ' Pin-kosavam' drape, a style popular in rural Tamil Nadu. Kavi and Reshma joined us for cardamom spiced tea later on. I lost touch with Shilpa during the pandemic and I was lost, engaged in a little of my own personal crisis to think of reaching out.  In 2020, I was working on digitally restoring old scans of Sadir dancers for my friend Donnovan who was an archivist and oriental researcher from the Netherlands. It was during this time I began to appreciate and love indigenous drapes and jewellery. Powered by my ADHD Hyperfixation superpower, I poured through countless PDFs learning about the material culture, ornaments of the South from pre-Chola times to the modern era. My phone was loaded to the brink of system failure with images of sculptures and vintage photographs. Words like Koppu, Lollaku, Visirumurku, Thanddai, Souri, Poochikoodu, Kaarai, Silambu gently invaded my vocabulary and was commonplace in the content I put out on my Instagram stories. I would forward a lot of these photos to Shilpa with enthusiastic responses. She sent me back pictures of her own collection that resembled the jewellery in the pictures. W hen I took on writing this piece, I felt I was informed enough to attempt to look critical at the Indian feminine material culture we take for granted. I reconnected with Shilpa recently while scouting for an interviewee, she was happy to sit for an interview with me. The following is the interview I had with Shilpa in March 2023, Translated from Tamil: Santosh: Hi Shilpa, thank you for speaking with me today. Can you tell me a little bit about the material culture of the Thirunangai/Hijra community in India? Shilpa: Of course pa. Our material culture is an important part of our identity and expression. One of the most distinctive elements is the way we wear our saris. We drape them in a unique style that sets us apart from cis-gender women. The colors and patterns of our saris can also be meaningful, representing things like our status within the community or our affiliation with a particular group. Santosh: That's sounds interesting. What about jewellery? What kinds of jewellery do urban transwomen wear? Shilpa: We wear a variety of jewellery, as women do, such as bangles, necklaces, and nose rings. Some of these pieces are made from gold, silver, or glass beads. Our jewellery is unique because we give importance to old designs and sometimes inherit (if we’re lucky) some rare pieces from our gurus or sisters. Usually we don’t ascribe significance to every piece, it may just be pretty, but some pieces can also have coded meanings. For example, some Hijras wear a nose ring on their left side to signify that they have undergone castration. Santosh: Can you tell me more about the coded significance of jewellery within your community? Shilpa: Sure, jewellery, first of all, can signify our gender identity and expression on its own. For example of more coded pieces, wearing a nose ring or earrings can be a way for Hijras to signal their femme nature (receiving partner). Some Hijras also wear rings on their toes or ankles, which can signify their identity as a transwoman of a particular clan. Bangles are an important accessory for Hijras. We often wear large, colorful bangles that match our mood, our identity and status within the community. Nose rings are also very important, and can have different meanings depending on the side they are worn on. Some Hijras wear a ring on their thumb or index finger to signify that they are available for sex work. Other types of jewellery can signify affiliations with certain gurus or groups within the Hijra community. The mangalsutra is a necklace that signifies marriage in cisgender Indian culture. But for us, it can represent our relationships with our gurus or partners. We also wear anklets that make a distinct sound when we walk, which is a way of announcing our presence and attracting attention. Santosh: Are there any specific materials or designs that are commonly used in Hijra jewellery? Shilpa: Our jewellery can be made from a variety of materials, such as gold, silver, and glass beads. We often prefer large and bold designs, as they help us stand out and express our identity. Some Hijras also incorporate traditional Indian motifs and patterns into their jewellery, we mainly go for gold as it is an investment and helps build reputation. However, gold covering pieces have diluted and consumed any sense of value. I, myself own lot of gold covering now, haha.. Santosh: What about makeup and other forms of adornment? Shilpa: Makeup is very important to us. We use it to highlight our best features, hide manly aspects and create a more feminine appearance. We also use sticker bindis a lot, and can represent different things depending on their color and design. For example, a red bindi can signify marriage, while a black bindi can signify mourning.  S antosh: Can you tell me more about hierarchy within the Hijra/Thirunangai community? Shilpa: Our community has a system of gurus and chelas, which are like mentors and mentees. Gurus are older, more experienced Hijras who take on younger chelas and teach them about Trans culture and traditions. Chelas may serve their gurus in various ways, such as by performing household tasks or collecting money during Hijra blessings. This system is a way for us to maintain our culture and pass it on to the next generation. Santosh: Thank you for sharing that. Is there anything else you'd like to add about the Hijra community in India? Shilpa: Yes, I would like people to know that we are a diverse community with our own unique culture and traditions. We have faced discrimination and stigma for a long time, but we are a resilient and proud community. Our material culture, jewelry, and hierarchy are all important parts of our identity and history, and we hope that people can appreciate and respect them. Apart from our above discussion, we spoke of the intersection of environmental concerns and being transgender. Shilpa: Being clean, eco-friendly is very important to me. The earth is my mother, her soil anoints my feet and blesses my going and comings, as an urban Trans woman I see more of the state of the city on foot than most other people. Its disgusting and not at all the Bangalore I remember. Eco-sustainability/consciousness and being transgender is an important intersection to consider. The stigma attached to marginalised, non-mainstream urban transwomen are the same attached to potholes and seedy spots in the city viewed with disdain and ignored. Many people within the transgender community are concerned about the impact of human activity on the environment and the ways in which climate change can have a disproportionate impact on marginalized communities, including transgender people.  Shilpa and Reshma were part of an NGO 'Saffade' that aimed to produce sanitary napkins and stiched fabric products for hospital use in a sustainable way. Shilpa: Another way in which eco-sustainability and being transgender intersect is through fashion. Clothing and fashion can be an important form of self-expression for many transgender people, but the fashion industry is also a major contributor to environmental degradation. The production and mindless disposal of clothing can have significant environmental impacts, from the use of water and energy to the release of toxic chemicals into the environment. Transgender people who are concerned about the environmental impact of fashion explore sustainable fashion options, such as clothing made from organic or recycled materials, or clothing that is designed to be durable and long-lasting. Having clothes for a long time allows us to attach memories to them and have it weaved into the quilt of memories. They also consider ways to reduce their overall consumption of clothing, such as by swapping clothes with friends or buying secondhand. We also discussed the importance of material culture and its ability to reveal the history, identity, and social context of a particular culture or society. Material culture also plays an important role in preserving cultural heritage, representation, relation to environment and subtexts of identity.  Our conversation revealed the need for more sustainable and equitable approaches to the fashion and the environment. By considering the environmental impacts of our actions and advocating for more sustainable solutions, we can work towards a more just and sustainable future for all communities, including transgender people. The intersection of material culture, eco-sustainability and being transgender highlights an unique entry way into organically tackling eco-concerns while still being in touch with human reality and being aware of the interconnectedness of people and material and the sensitivity to navigate that space. Written by Santosh James Samuel.

I n the bustling community of Gottigere, where several colonies thrived, there was one that stood out among the rest—the Weavers colony. The air was alive with the rhythmic chugging of the steam engine and the constant hum of threads being spun, creating a sweet melody that resonated all day, every day of the week.  This is the tale of a small yet tightly-knit weaving community in Bangalore, where skilled artisans endeavoured to keep their ancient craft alive amidst the fast-paced modern world. Similar communities could be found all over the globe, each with its unique history, culture, and weaving techniques. My visit to Gottigere was nothing short of memorable. As I stepped into the vibrant street, something about it felt like home. Perhaps it was the sheer hard work and dedication exuded by the people living there or the tightly woven community they had built together over generations. Inside the humble home of Yeshu Gottigere, the 22-year-old weaver, I was warmly greeted by his extended family—grandparents, parents, and aunt—all united by their love for the loom. The family's lineage of weavers began in the quaint town of Andhra Pradesh before eventually settling in Chickpete and, after forty years, finding their current abode in the Weavers colony of Gottigere. Yeshu, an aspiring MBA graduate, held a dream of pursuing education while staying true to his family's weaving heritage. "I want to get a degree but also want to work at the mill," he said with determination. Yeshu's family frequently visited Chickpete, their previous residence, where his uncle and cousin still resided, to procure materials and threads for their daily weaving endeavours. Chickpete, the commercial hub for textile stores, played a pivotal role in sustaining the weaving community. Specializing in an array of sarees—from pure silk to regular cotton and adorned with intricate designs, including bridal wear—the family's craftsmanship was second to none. While traditional handloom sarees used to take a whole day to complete, modern machinery had reduced the time to just four hours. Yeshu's eyes sparkled with passion as he described the intricate process of weaving, highlighting the delicacy of the silk warp, woven meticulously into the fabric alongside other textiles. Designs for these exquisite sarees were brought to life using various stencils supplied by vendors. The family's rich tapestry of designs included contributions from Yeshu's grandparents, particularly his skilled grandmother. The meticulous weaving process involved printing the designs with the help of a graph and skilfully manoeuvring the threads using the graph as a guide. The machines employed in this process were known as Jakaad, a testament to the evolution of their craft. B ut like many others, the pandemic had its toll on Yeshu's weaving community. As I entered their home, I couldn't help but notice the stack of school books in the corner, a testament to the hardships they endured. To make ends meet during the challenging times, Yeshu's mother temporarily switched from weaving to teaching kindergarten children. However, this adjustment resulted in the loss of two crucial machines, posing a significant setback to their business. Yeshu spoke with determination about his father's efforts to recover those machines and restore their family's livelihood. Amidst the trials faced by the weaving community, competition also loomed. Despite supplying sarees to numerous South Indian states, including Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, and Kerala, the rise of commercial textile shops presented a challenge. These shops offered lower prices and greater accessibility, luring customers away from local weavers. Nonetheless, Yeshu was quick to emphasize that the sarees woven by his family were made of pure silk and boasted unparalleled longevity. The presence of middlemen in the distribution chain further exacerbated the challenges. Yeshu's family sold their sarees to a vendor, who then distributed them, leaving little room to sell their products at a fair price and impacting their profit margins. Yet, amidst these trials, there was hope. The government's implementation of various schemes provided support to small weaving communities like Yeshu's during times of low sales, such as the COVID-19 pandemic. While these efforts were helpful, Yeshu acknowledged that there was still room for improvement in the support provided. Eager to embrace the future, Yeshu envisioned digitizing their business by utilizing social media platforms to directly connect with customers and expand their market. However, he noted that the weaving community was still unfamiliar with these modern methods and had yet to venture into this realm. When asked about the future of the weaving industry, Yeshu's eyes shone with determination and optimism. "I want to continue weaving for as long as possible," he declared. Together with his community, they vowed to preserve their traditional craft, bridging the gap between their rich heritage and the ever-evolving world. Despite the challenges they faced, their collective resilience and passion for weaving were bound to create a lasting tapestry, celebrating their craft for generations to come. Written by Sheetal Mary George.

W hen it comes to children involved in domestic services, the concept is often hidden and hard to tackle because of its links to social and cultural patterns. In many countries child domestic work is not only accepted socially and culturally, but is also regarded in a positive light as a protected and non-stigmatized type of work and preferred to others forms of employment, especially for girls. The perpetuation of traditional female roles and responsibilities, within and outside the household, as well as the perception of domestic service as part of a woman’s “apprenticeship” for adulthood and marriage, also contribute to the persistence of child domestic work as a form of child labour. The lives and stories of these children often get lost in the complicated statistics that are available to us. We tend to lose sight of the fact that these individuals aren’t just a number or a part of a percentage, but are actual humans with difficult circumstances that affect the course of their entire life.   I got in touch with my maid, Tara, who has been involved in child domestic work ever since she was nine years old. She is twenty-six years old now, and wants to share her story. She is originally from Andhra Pradesh, the only child to her parents. Growing up, her family was extremely poor financially. Her mother was involved in domestic services while her father was a truck driver. Her parents didn’t have the best relationship and had an extremely rocky marriage. Her dad was an alcoholic and her mother often had to pick up his slack and work extra hours to support the family. When Tara turned 9 years old, it was getting extremely difficult for her mother to support the family all by herself, hence she roped Tara into her field and got her to start working to make ends meet. When asked how this situation was like for her, she said: “It felt like a huge responsibility in the beginning, I used to work 3-4 houses a day, and when you’re that young, it's physically and mentally exhausting. However, I didn’t want to see my mother struggle alone, so I  did the work I had to do.” “That sounds very challenging. How did you manage to cope with such a demanding job at a young age?” “Honestly, in the first year of working I used to cry a lot because I just wanted to stay home and do nothing. My workload only increased when my father stopped working entirely. It forced me to mature and grow up faster when I did not want to. I wanted to be a child. But that wasn’t an option.” Tara continued to work in houses as a domestic helper till she was 15. Her parents separated when she was 12 and her mother and herself moved to Bangalore for a fresh start. Tara continued to work in houses for some time and then enrolled herself in a beautician course so she had the option to work in salons. “I enrolled myself into a three-month course and then tried applying to a few salons for work, however my employers never gave us our monthly salaries when it was due and created a scene when we asked for our rightful money. It stressed me out too much, so I left and went back to being a maid.” W hen asked if she ever faced any trouble or mistreatment at houses, she said, “Yes, I faced many difficulties. I was often treated poorly and discriminated against by some employers. I was paid very little for my hard work and had to endure verbal abuse and mistreatment. I was not allowed to go to school or pursue any other interests. I felt isolated and lonely as I couldn't interact with children of my age or enjoy my childhood like others did.” However, Tara never stopped. She stayed positive in every situation and made sure to enjoy life regardless of her circumstances. She continued working at houses and eventually it just became a part of her daily life.  She worked in apartments mainly and joined associations of house help and made friends in these communities that had a similar life as she did. She finally had a sense of belonging and was happy with whatever she got. When she turned 19, she met her now-husband, she left her mother’s house and began living with him while still supporting her mother. He worked as a security guard in a factory, and helped Tara financially as well. After getting married soon after, she became pregnant at 22. This was an unexpected expense that really scared her. Hence, she started working at a day-care center while also being a maid. Her husband also took extra shifts to make ends meet. “It was a lot of work and I used to get really tired, but God gave me a miracle, and I would do anything for my child. So, I didn’t mind.” She took some time off when her son was born but after he turned a year old, she went back to work. She took him along to the houses she worked at as there was no one to look after him when she was working. She also resumed her job at the day-care. “My employers were kind enough to let me bring my son to work, so I was very thankful, and I was also relieved that I didn’t have to leave him alone. It was challenging, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” Tara is now pregnant with her second child, and still working extremely hard to make ends meet for her new family. She feels like life has come full circle, as she thinks she is doing exactly what her mother did at her age for her family’s needs. “I will not make my children work. They need to go to school and live a normal childhood. They will be educated. And when I get older, they will take care of me with their fancy jobs that I pray they have. Till then, I will keep working.” A nother story that involves struggle and hard work, is of my former cook’s daughter, Neha. When we think of a typical 18-year-old student, we imagine them studying, preparing for exams, or hanging out with friends. But for Neha, a high school senior, life is much more complicated. Neha is not just a student; she is also a maid, working in three different households to help her family survive. Neha’s story is one of resilience and determination. She lives in a small village near Jaipur with her parents and three younger siblings. Her father works as a farmer but struggles to make ends meet due to frequent droughts. Her mother, who used to be a homemaker, fell ill two years ago, which is when Neha had to step up. “I never thought I would end up doing this,” Neha says, reflecting on her situation. “I used to dream of going to college, but now my main concern is making sure my family has enough to eat.” Neha starts her day at 5 AM, helping her siblings get ready for school before rushing off to her own classes. After school, she heads straight to work, cleaning houses until late in the evening. Her schedule is grueling, but Neha doesn’t complain. “It’s tough, but I know why I’m doing this. My family depends on me, and I can’t let them down. It all started when my mother fell sick. She couldn’t work anymore, and the medical bills were piling up. My father’s income wasn’t enough, and we were really struggling. I knew I had to do something, so I found a job cleaning houses. I was 16 at the time.” Curious of her day-to-day life, I enquired about her daily routine. “My day starts early. I wake up at 5 AM to prepare breakfast and help my siblings get ready for school. After that, I go to school by myself. Once classes are over, I head to the homes where I work. I clean, wash dishes, and sometimes cook, depending on what’s needed. By the time I get home, it’s already late. I try to study for a bit before going to bed, but I’m usually too exhausted.”   When asked how she manages the two worlds, she said: “It’s difficult. Sometimes I miss school if there’s too much work to be done, but I try to keep up with my studies as much as possible. My teachers have been supportive, and they understand my situation. I often study during breaks at work, even if it’s just for a few minutes.” “Have you ever faced challenges or mistreatment in your work?” “Yes, there have been times when I was treated unfairly. Some employers expect too much or don’t pay on time. It can be frustrating, but I remind myself that this work is important for my family. There are also kind people who treat me well and understand my situation, and I’m grateful for them. “Of course, there are days when I feel overwhelmed and want to give up. But then I think about my family, especially my younger siblings. They look up to me, and I want to set a good example for them. I can’t afford to give up” T he essence of hard work and determination shines bright in Neha, and her goals for the future only shine brighter. “I still dream of going to college one day. I want to become a teacher so I can help other children, especially those from poor families, get an education. I don’t want my siblings to go through what I’m going through. I hope that one day, we can have a better life.” Neha’s story is a testament to the strength and perseverance of millions of children and teenagers who, despite their circumstances, continue to fight for a better future. While she faces countless obstacles, Neha remains hopeful and determined to change her life and the lives of those she loves. Neha is just one among many young people whose stories often go unheard, lost in the statistics of child labor and poverty. Yet, behind every number, there is a human being, like Neha, working tirelessly to make a difference for their families. 10.1 million children work as labourers in India, with 5.6 million of them males and 4.5 million of them females, according to Census 2011 statistics. According to estimates, 152 million kids worldwide—nearly one in ten of all kids—work during childhood including 64 million females and 88 million males. Although the prevalence of child employment has decreased in recent years, some particularly harmful kinds of child exploitation, including bonded servitude, the use of children as soldiers, and trafficking, continue to occur. India is home to a number of different industries where child labour is used, including brick kilns, carpet weaving, garment manufacturing, domestic service, food and refreshment services (like tea stalls), agriculture, fishing, and mining.  Tara and Neha’s stories are just few among millions. Written by Navya Bhagat.

J anaki is a woman in her seventies who works as a maid in a few households in Ranchi, Jharkhand. Originally from the countryside, she is one of the many members of the Adivasi community who migrated from rural areas to cities to look for jobs. She relocated about twenty years ago with two of her adopted sons and is now happily settled in a small one-roomed rented house in a slum. The freckles on her face tell the years of experience she has had in life. The cracks on her feet tell the many, many paths they have travelled, and her pale, rugged hands recite the years of strenuous labour they have performed. She doesn't know what her exact age is, since her generation didn't make a note of birthdays and birth years. Hence, she just has an estimation of her age, which she says is her seventies.  She described her life in the village as one filled with struggles and pains. She was happy for a couple of years when she was married to the love of her life, but he died soon after of an unknown disease. Still determined to give her two young sons a happy life, she worked hard on the little land she had, to cultivate some crops and vegetables. She made her living that way, and it sustained her two kids. But, soon after, her kids got sick and died as well of the same unknown disease. She was too depressed and poor to seek the diagnosis of the disease that took all their lives away. To find another purpose for living, after her family's demise, she adopted three boys, trying to fill up the void by bringing up a new family. A new reason, she claimed, to live and love. The boys, small in their age, were left orphaned when their parents died of malaria. They were distantly related to Janaki and hence, she kindly decided to take them all in. Her husband’s side of the family had turned against her after her husband died. They wanted her out of the family because they saw her as a burden and were trying to find a way to steal the little land she had to make profits. She said that every passing day after the adoption of the boys was proving to be burdensome with her in-laws. Constant verbal fights would lead to physical abuse. Her sisters-in-law would go out of their way to make her and her boys' lives miserable. They would interfere with her farm work, scold and beat her boys, and deliberately burn their portions of meals. They would force her to do the most laborious of household tasks, which would drain her mentally and physically at the end of the day. She wouldn't have time for herself or her boys. The men of the house would constantly harass her. They would group together to torment her. They would follow her to her field where she went alone early in the mornings to work on her crops and they would molest and harass her. S he finally decided to move out. It was best for all of them: her, her boys and her in-laws who pretended to be disturbed by the family's presence. She planned to move to the city of Ranchi, and find a menial job which required physical labour within her capabilities and pay for her boys' education. She quite succeeded in her plan. She rented a room in a slum for her and the three boys, which she paid for with the money she got from selling her crops. She asked for help from a couple of acquaintances in the slum, if they had contacts with employers looking for a household maid. At the same time, she applied for a ration card and started getting sustainable rations for her family. She also enrolled her boys in a government school to give them as much of an education as she could provide. Being in a city filled with over-populated middle-class families, she soon found a lot of job offers coming to her. Everyone could use an extra hand when it was provided in exchange for minimal unfair wages, nearly no holidays, and long working hours. It was a deal that everyone was ready to accept without batting one eye about how unjustified it was. She got job postings as a maid in households and as a sweeper in buildings. Her working tasks have remained the same over the years, where she has to broom and mop floors, dust around the houses, wash utensils and clothes, cut vegetables and once in a while cook meals in houses that weren’t caste-biased and which don't consider meals prepared by a person from a caste lower than theirs as unhealthy and "contaminated". During festivals, she is overburdened with work but she thinks that at the end of the day, it gives off enough in return as she gets many tips in cash. People donate new clothes and miscellaneous to her as well for the sake of goodwill. She also gets to have lots of delicacies from different houses which sometimes become too much to finish for her and her boys, and she has to share it with her neighbors. So overworking during festivals pays off well, according to her. Her working hours are from six in the morning to two in the afternoon, where she works at one home after another, then does sweeping and cleaning around buildings. I asked her about her sleep schedule out of curiosity, and she said that it is just like a bird's. Her eyes open when the sun rises and they shut with the dusk/moon rise. I asked her if she had ever been asked to do work related to scavenging, and regrettably, she said yes. There are times when people approach her, asking her to take away their pets' carcasses. She is also ordered to clean away dead birds, rodents and the waste produced by them. In general, she is hence asked to do the work of a scavenger, but it is not up to the extent some particular workers in this field have to go to. She has always remained confident and has had the self-respect that prevents her from being dominated by her superiors. She said that she refuses to work on tasks which appear too gruesome and too unhygienic, but mostly she accepts to do all of them. Initially, being uneducated about hygiene, she used to come into direct contact with the waste when she used to clean it, but some of her employers educated her on it and gave her the appropriate equipment to deal with waste. Since then, she has always demanded equipment to be provided for her when she is asked to do such work. If anyone refuses to provide it, she also refuses to perform the task. She is convinced that turning down jobs won’t stop new offers from coming her way because she has established herself as a sincere worker who wouldn't delve into wrongdoings, and would perform all jobs with a good moral ground. I had initially decided to write this report to talk about Janaki's struggle with her land, as I used to hear her complain a lot about it to my mother. I had seen many news articles where Jharkhand's tribals would get their land seized away by MNCs and the government for it to be overly exploited for resource extraction. In one instance, in Jharkhand's Saranda forest, mining companies like ArcelorMittal and SAIL were granted leases to extract iron ore, leading to the displacement of tribal communities and the destruction of their traditional forests and water sources. The tribals resisted the mining, leading to violent clashes with the state government and police forces. In another instance, the Jharkhand government's decision to acquire land for a thermal power plant in Nagri village in Ranchi district was met with protests by tribal villagers who claimed that the acquisition violated their land rights and would lead to displacement from their ancestral lands. T hese disputes between Jharkhand tribals and MNCs or the government are rooted in historical injustices such as displacement, land alienation, and loss of livelihoods, as they are completely dependent on their lands and forests' natural resources. Land conflicts, which have been on-going for decades, have led to the displacement of thousands of tribals from their traditional lands, which in turn have forced them to move to urban areas in search of livelihoods. The acquisition of tribal lands often takes place without proper consultation or consent of the affected communities, and compensation offered is often inadequate or not provided at all. As a result, many tribals are forced to migrate to urban areas, where they struggle to find employment and adequate housing. The displacement of tribals from rural to urban areas has significant obvious social, economic, and cultural implications. It leads to the loss of traditional livelihoods and knowledge systems and breaks the connection between the tribals and their ancestral lands. It also disrupts the social fabric of tribal communities and can result in a loss of cultural identity and practices. I had assumed that Janaki's case would be the same, having never actually heard of her struggles related to land. But when I finally inquired her about it, it turned out to be completely in contrast to what I had presumed. She is among the exceptions, who are in favour of the MNCs and the government. She has acquaintances who have happily and agreeably sold their lands to the government. The government, in exchange, has given a hefty sum of money to the owners. Hence, she also wants if ever she gets the opportunity, she would sell her land to the government. She says that she doesn't want to remain connected to her village anymore; because of the terrors it has given her. She wants a proper source of income and is happy with what she is doing even if some might consider it a "small job". She is quite liberal with her opinions and says that she gets good access to food, education and health care services here in the city and would never want to go back to village life. The only thing which keeps her going back to her village is her small piece of land. She wants to sell it off at the first opportunity she finds because she trusts the government, that it would pay her an equal sum in return. Till then, she would continue working hard for her boys and give them the best life that she can provide, even if it is underpaid work. She says that she has too much life within her to retire, and she would do so happily when her limbs give away. Janaki's story is very unexpected. One never thinks that a person coming from her background would turn out to be so liberal in thinking. She gives off hope for the betterment and making a better future for oneself. Finding a purpose, no matter how small it is. She is an inspiration in many ways and would continue to be one for the many people she has interacted with and would continue to interact with in her life. Written by Satakshi Niraj.

A round 40 km away from Bangalore, Hosur is a town right on the border of Tamil Nadu. It is widely known for its factories, and the job opportunities which it presents. So a lot of people, especially from the Northern part of India, looking for job opportunities, migrate here. This includes people who work in reputable jobs to people who have jobs which barely pays them. These people with low income jobs are pushed into poverty. I was reminded of this situation when I saw a group of kids running into a bunch of tarp-covered built settlements. These settlements are located right behind the Hosur railway station and right in-between a huge electric grid. I was intrigued by this place. Not just because of the tarp tents, but also because of the people who lived there. I had no idea who they were. Where are they from? Or what do they do? I knew right then I wanted to take a dive into their world.  The time was around 6 o'clock when I approached the settlements. As I walked towards the tents I saw this man sitting outside with his family. When I asked him if I could ask him general questions for this article, he told me he was not educated enough to answer my questions. Instead he pointed me towards a direction through the tarp tents, suggesting there are other people who can answer my question. So I walked through the tents. What looked like a few tarps tents together from the outside, turned into a small village with at least 250 people as I walked in. Kids and the people swarmed up around me. They all looked so surprised and intrigued as I walked though. The first thing which caught my attention was the campfire in the square and the music they were playing. It sounded like Rajasthani music, and they were burning trash. By looking at the condition I could guess their jobs were primarily rag picking. As I spoke to a few people, one person agreed to answer my question. Babu is a 56 year old man who is a rag picker. He lives in this area with his family and his community. When I explained to him about the process of this interview and asked him what he does for a living, he pointed towards the buildings around the place and said, “We are from UP and we pick garbage for a living. I know nothing about this process. I am a poor man and uneducated so what can I do? I don't know what happens inside these huge buildings and offices.” He continued, “We eat food, sleep peacefully and when the sun comes up we go pick up garbage around the city which helps us to eat again.” I asked him if the  government helps them with their situation. Babu claimed, “I don’t even know what the government does sir.” Another guy supported Babu’s statement from behind, angrily claiming that the government does nothing. “They do nothing?” I pushed. Babu continued, “We just survive and satisfy our bellies sir that’s it, and we don’t want to take anything from anyone or give anything to anyone. "My kind request is if you come to my home, drink a glass of water and let me cook some rice for you which is worth 10 rupees.” At that moment all I could think was how generous he was to offer food and water. I continued the interview. “Are your kids getting an education?” He said, “No kid here is getting proper education. They all turned into donkeys who pick trash for a living. They wake up in the morning to pick up trash or they don’t do anything else.” Then he asked me for some money and soon all the kids gathered around me again hoping I would give them some money. B abu smiled and said, “Look how these poor kids gathered around so soon to ask for money. If we were a little wealthy we would have been okay.” Then he asked me to use my phone’s flash on his foot. And when I did he showed me a swelling on his leg and told me how it is making him limp. Due to his situation he is unable to afford treatment.  I went around taking photos of the place, interacting with a few other people. When I asked another person’s name, his name was Babu too. When I smiled, the Babu I was interviewing said there are a lot of other Babu’s here and we are all just brothers. Then I went to ask him the final question. I asked, “Are you happy?” Babu said, “Yes I am happy and everyone here is happy, and if you are happy I am happy too.” This put a smile on my face. As I was walking out I saw a few people cooking food and how the water leaked through the tarp into their houses. A few kids shivering in the cold. Turns out in the heavy rainy season they go back to Lucknow, their native and come back once it is over. Babu accompanied us till we walked out of the place. One thing I learned about the people and the settlements over there is, even though they are living in the worst living condition, they are still happy with what they have and generously give what they have and satisfied with what they have. Written by Jaisurya S.

D eath, which signifies the loss of both biological and conscious function, is an inescapable aspect of life. It may cause sadness, but it may also prompt thought and acceptance. Although the way we treat death can differ greatly between communities, it is eventually a universal event that affects us all. In Hindu tradition, funerals and death are deeply valued and are seen as essential elements of the life-and-death cycle. Hinduism holds to the idea that after death, a person's soul reincarnates in a new body. Funeral rites and rituals are thought to aid the deceased's spirit in making a smooth transition to the afterlife. Hindu funerals in India adhere to a complex collection of rites and traditions that vary by region and community. However, common practices are observed all around the nation. Under the direction of a priest or other knowledgeable individual, the family and close relatives of the deceased carry out these ceremonies. The usual or basic process of the funeral takes place like this in northern parts of  India: Preparing the body for cremation is the first ritual. Before being transported to the cremation site, the body is typically cleansed and dressed in fresh clothing. The face is left exposed, while the body is wrapped in a white garment. It is said that the deceased's spirit will recognize the body and depart gently. The body is next taken to the cremation site. The deceased's family and close relatives frequently accompany the procession, which is usually carried out on a wooden stretcher. Traditional funeral music may be played by musicians to accompany the procession. The funeral pyre is lit once the body is transported to the cremation site. The funeral pyre is typically lit by the deceased's eldest son or male heir. While the family and close relatives of the dead express their sorrow, the priest prays and conducts the last rites. The mourners may alternately provide wood and ghee (clarified butter) to the fire during the cremation process. This is done to make sure the fire burns brightly and thoroughly consumes the body. A sacred river or the sea is used to submerge the body's ashes once the body has been reduced to ashes. This is thought to aid the deceased person's soul in achieving Moksha, or freedom from the cycle of birth and death. F ollowing the cremation, the deceased's family and close relatives observe a time of mourning that typically lasts for thirteen days. They abstain from eating anything that isn't vegetarian during this time, and they stay away from all celebrations and festivals. Also, the friends, family, and acquaintances of the deceased send their condolences to their family members and close relatives. The deceased's family and close relatives carry out a rite known as " Shraddha " on the thirteenth day. Offerings are made to the deceased person's ancestors during this event. The deceased's family and close relatives give food and water to the ancestors and ask for their blessings so that the family would be happy and healthy. Death is such a negative experience or a time period that a family or loved ones go through when a person dies. My family just experienced a difficult moment when my aunt, who was 36 years old, passed away from cancer. While it was a moment where everyone was grieving, I just had questions regarding the rituals performed during the funeral. I looked up the processes online and the description above was what I found, I also asked one of my neighbors, who is a North Indian, if what the process above that was stated was how funerals on their side are performed, they confirmed that it indeed was.  However, the rituals performed at my aunt’s funeral were completely different. We only had a few rituals in common with the North Indians.   I decided to have a conversation with my mother’s aunt to find out and understand more about our culture and our way of performing rituals as it really piqued my interest and made me wonder about the reason behind doing all of this? Does this really help the dead or is it just human beings’ way of prolonging the inevitable moment of burying or burning the body and letting go of them?  KS, a sixty year old woman is my mother’s aunt, who performs all the rituals during funerals in the family. She has been doing this for the past twenty years now. She was confused at first when I asked her to teach me about funerals because who would want to talk about sad events ,right? Nonetheless, she agreed after a few days. From my observations and my conversations, I found out about the following things : The deceased person's body is brought to the house and laid on a cot outside if they passed away at a hospital or somewhere out of the house, if not then the body is removed from inside  the house and placed at the entrance or in the courtyard. Kumkum and harshana are applied to their foreheads after wiping down the body using a wet cloth. A brass jar is set on the fire by using wood logs outside the home, signifying that there has been a death in the house.  Diyas and agarbatti are also lit outside to pray for their soul. It is important not to let the diya get extinguished till the body is buried as it is considered a bad sign. We go around to the homes of our neighbours to let them know that someone has died so they can let other people know and come see the body if they have not seen the fire lit outside, the news is later spread by them to far relatives. People then congregate, decorate the body with flowers, and offer prayers for the soul's upcoming departure from its old body. It is a bittersweet moment when all the family, friends, and coworkers who have heard about the person come to visit them. They stay there and remember all the wonderful times they have shared with them throughout the years they have known them. A music band is called, and they play till the burial of the body. They are called so that everyone in the area will hear them. The body is taken around the area one last time before the funeral while the band plays music in front of the moving van. It is like showing the body its home and area one last time as they will never be able to see it again so it's a farewell. "Are there any time periods that are taken into consideration while deciding when to cremate the body?" "Yes ,there are various time periods in a day and funerals are not held during the Raahu Kala and Yamaganda Kala because it is seen as a negative time of day and no positive deeds or things they don't want repeated are done or performed during that time. A time period, whether good or evil, begins at six in the morning and lasts until six in the evening. As Raahu Kala typically starts at 12 p.m. and ends at 3 p.m. on weekdays and starts at 4:30 p.m. on weekends and ends at 8p.m., funerals are held  either before or after the Raahu Kala ." We wait until there is an hour left for the Raahu Kala to end because until then, everyone comes to pay their respects, to spend their final moments with the deceased person, and the body is almost completely covered with flowers. With only one hour remaining, we begin taking off all the flowers that had been placed, and we set up something similar to a makeshift wash booth using lungis so that we can bathe the body in the water. After the bath, the individual is made to sit on a bamboo chair and made to wear new clothing that the elders in the family give. The next ritual that is performed is a reenactment of a marriage. If the person is already married, their spouse is made to sit next to them while we reenact their wedding by making them either tie a makeshift mangalsuthra , singing the song sung during the time of tying a knot during a wedding and throwing rice on the couple. This is done because it will be the final time they can be together as a married couple, making it a big farewell. Everyone who attended the service makes their way forward to bless the pair. If the person was a bachelor, then the person is married to a doll. The wedding is performed on the doll and the deceased person. “Why is this performed? This ritual was actually the reason I got intrigued about this function and wanted to find out more about funeral rituals as this is very unusual and I found it a bit inappropriate for a funeral setting.” “This is performed because it is important for a human to fulfill all the aspects of life and marriage is one of the biggest things a person has to experience and go through in order for their life to be complete. The people who are present bless the person by throwing rice at them and praying that they live a better life in their next. I understand why it may seem insensitive but it is an old tradition so that the body has some sort of a companion in their last moments. For the bachelors,  the doll is buried / cremated with the person as it is a part of them. For the married couple it is like making them relive their marriage for one last time so that they both recognize this is the end and they will have to go on with their life / journey by themselves after this.” The bamboo chair is then placed in a van. We go around the area and show the person their current residential area for the very last time. The parents if the person is a bachelor or the spouse if the person was married, are supposed to dance in front of the moving vehicle till the funeral grounds, they are supposed to dance because they need to send the person off in a happy mood so that their soul doesn’t linger around once it separates from the body. "What happens at the grounds? Please tell me more as I was not allowed to go there." "It is the last time we will be seeing the person so we do a pooja for them and then chant some prayers. The body is either burnt or buried, it depends on which side of the family the person belongs to and the traditions that are followed. So if we are burning them, we stack wood on their body and the son is made to do pooja and then he has to light the body by pouring oil on the wood stack and then setting it on fire. If we are burying the body, all the men in the family carry the bamboo chair to the hole which is dug and place the body in it. Pooja is performed and then the men cover the body with soil." E veryone returns  home and starts cleaning every inch of the house before eleven days are over, because on the eleventh day, a ceremony for the deceased is held to give them peace and to release them from this life of theirs. We consider ourselves unclean and so the whole house is purified by cleaning it thoroughly. We are also not allowed to cook at home during this period so our relatives have to make food and bring it to us.  The eleventh day ceremony is a grand one as everyone attends it . A pooja takes place with a pandit doing all the purifying rituals and helps with releasing the soul. We also prepare a non-vegetarian meal consisting of all the favorites of the deceased and keep it in front of their picture, we leave the room for five minutes in the belief that the soul will come and eat the food placed on the banana leaf after which everyone has their meals and disperse.  "How did you start performing these rituals? It is not very common to have women performing these things usually." "Well, it mostly started because when my parents died, none of my brothers knew what to do, and we did not really have close family to help us navigate through that. I had always been very observant during all these events so that's when I stepped up and performed everything and it just continued that way. People in our family really don't mind who performs the rituals as long as the person knows what they are doing and are alright with performing these things. I like that I am the one doing these, it makes me feel important and useful for the family.  It isn't a common thing outside our family and it really is a shame as it in a way helps us grieve and get closure and strength to move on with our lives. We, women are the ones who stay at home and so we just get more attached to our family members. Performing these rituals really benefits us more as our grieving period is usually longer. Of course this does not mean that men don’t or can‘t have a longer grieving period, it is just that we are left behind at home with nothing to distract ourselves with and get caught up in the memories of the past." These are all the important things that take place during a funeral and as we can see there are quite a few different things between the Vokaligga community and the north side of Indians performing these funeral rituals. The practices are also very interesting to think about as I still wonder how our ancestors came up with these practices and how it really has been passed down with each generation. Written by Sambhrama P Girish.

I ndians have had an unspoken rite of passage, one that every young woman or man has participated in at one point or the other. The local stall owner and the bickering we indulge in with them. Whether it is over the prices of the items we intend to purchase or over a politicians fall from grace, arguments with the local “Anna” at the tea shop or the vegetable vendor is an aunties pass time and one that transcends generation, this “anna” is someone who we all grew up around but somehow blended into the background of the hustle and bustle that surrounded our lives, they debated with our mothers, chatted idly with our fathers and would greet us joyfully with a “Hi, ma.” And if we stopped to look around every once in a while, we might even catch a glimpse of their blinding smiles. It was these moments of quiet that helped forge a sense of fraternity among members of the community. Binding them with a sense of familiarity and forming a small town culture in parts of big cities. This unfortunately has dismantled in the last decade, with the rise of multi-marts.  A one stop destination for all of one’s comforts has become our only Destination.  Super markets and  huge shopping marts have created a space where one can find all of their essentials under a single roof and not have to talk to a single soul while doing so. Fixed prices with the occasional sale became enough to suppress our bargaining capabilities and silently make our way through quiet, lit up aisles towards men in neon vests who we might see everyday but don’t greet us with a “Hi” or bargain with our parents. Men who are not called “Anna” or uncle but are actually not addressed at all. We abandon the local “annas” for the ever rotating cycle of cashiers and contribute to the fall of our little village.   It's been a slow and steady decline that has now affected the livelihood of many a shop keeper.  One particularly interesting one that I came across was A. A has been around for as long as I can remember. He sold vegetables in season and occasionally got into an argument with my mom over spinach. Her besting him in the end but one thing I always saw at the end of their interactions was a smile beaming on his face. My mom knew things about him, almost as if they were acquaintances. She knew where his daughter went to school and how early he needed to get up to be here for the morning rush. How far away he lived and what his mother tongue was. He was a likable character from every interaction that I've witnessed. Always witty and charming, with a real knack for bargaining.  H e became a part of the scenery almost, a steady reminder of home. Until he wasn't.  “Madam, I can't afford the rent anymore”, he told my mom, justifying his move back to his hometown in Tamil Nadu. And on this particular day that I'd accompanied her he broke the news that he'd be moving at the end of the month. It was a jarring feeling that crept in slowly. It wasn't like I'd had a conversation with A or that I'd ever made any effort to bargain with him but he was someone I'd gotten so used to, someone who, without a doubt came up in the picture if I'd ever been asked to visualize the road leading to my house. To give you more context the last 5 years had been hard on A, three new multi-marts all boasting a variety of items beyond basic necessities. People now didn't come looking for spinach, they came looking for different kinds of spinach, whether it was red or Malabar. Names that hardly anyone had heard before the influx of Walmart-like stores in our area. A could no longer keep up, he said he could not supply what the people required and thus was no longer the friendly neighborhood competitor for many an aunty or uncle.  This project came around right before A left and scoring an interview with him was hard, even if he'd been shoo'd out by necessity he still held the community close to his heart, still remembered everyone's names and blindly trusted them with tabs. But towards the end he finally had a sit down conversation with me about himself, his life and the way things had changed.  H e was born in a small town next to Madhurai and his parents used to visit the neighboring city every day to sell the vegetables they'd procured at a profit. "They believed that people in cities would pay more," he said with a smile. "Funny enough that turned out to be quite the opposite. Those city folks drove a hard bargain." I asked him how he ended up in Bangalore, to which he said that it had been his wife's idea. They had come to Bangalore with the hope of a better future and better education for their children.  He proclaimed with a smile that his son wanted to become an engineer. I asked him how different the market was 10 years ago. To which he replied with an almost remorseful tone as he said,  "It's such a shame how things have changed, when you were little, people came to us and bought what they had and I knew them all by name, I knew exactly what they'd get regularly and I tried my best to stock up for them. You see that madam," he pointed to a large house adjacent to my apartment."  An old lady used to live there. She came for keerai every Tuesday" he said as if to prove his point. I finally asked him what, in his view, had changed. That was when the beaming smile I had always associated with him faded from his face. He replied ruefully that it was the people who had changed. Pointing to the new generation, he said, “ Neenga la engloda shop varamatenge. ” (You people don’t come to our shop anymore—please excuse any spelling errors in Tamil). He referred to the new generation, or the “2k kids” as he called them, as being too "hi-fi"—saying that we seemed too Westernized. And the interview ended as cryptically as it had begun. He seemed disappointed, yet content with his time here. Which finally begs the question: why? Why has our generation, in particular, contributed to the decline of mom-and-dad shops? Is it due to our increasing desire for solitude, or simply the pursuit of convenience? Will this truly bring about the end of the ever-present figure of the neighborhood Anna? Written by Akshara Krishnamoorthy.