Interview with Mr. Rajendra Singh

I had the privilege of interviewing Mr. Rajendra Singh, a renowned water conservationist often referred to as the Waterman of Rajasthan. He is one of the distinguished members of the National River Ganga Basin Authority (NRGBA), the apex body formed by the Government of India to oversee policies and programs for the rejuvenation of the Ganga. I met him during my visit to his NGO, Tarun Bharat Sangh, where I was undergoing training on the ecology of rivers, with a special focus on the Ganga.

Mr. Singh is widely celebrated for his pioneering work in reviving several rivers in Rajasthan through traditional water harvesting techniques, most notably the construction of small check dams called Johads. His grassroots approach has transformed arid regions, restored groundwater levels, and brought entire river systems back to life. Over the decades, his efforts have influenced water conservation projects across India and inspired policies on community-led river management.

During my time with him, I recorded two interviews. The first focused on his critical perspective on why the Ganga Action Plan, launched in the 1980s, turned out to be a complete failure. The second explored his thoughts on the ongoing work of the National River Ganga Basin Authority, where he emphasized the importance of genuine community involvement, scientific planning, and strong political will. It was a truly enriching experience, and I felt honored to document his insights on issues that are central to the future of India’s rivers.

Rajendra Singh talking about the complete failure of Ganga Action Plan-

2nd interview of Mr. Singh where he talks about the National River Ganga Basin Authority-

Interview with Arun Pathak

The Politician Who Protests with His Life

Arun Pathak is a politician and social worker from Varanasi, known worldwide for his extreme style of protest—even resorting to suicide attempts. His protest against the film Water in the year 2000 brought him global attention. I’d heard about him for years, had seen him in my neighborhood, and had read about him in newspapers and magazines countless times. But I finally had the chance to meet him last year while working with Irene, a researcher from Italy.

Mr. Pathak addressing a public meeting

When Irene asked me to arrange a meeting with Mr. Pathak, I wasn’t sure I could do it. Arun Pathak had become a very powerful politician, and I thought he would be like any other Indian politician who doesn’t have time for people after elections. My impression of him, however, was completely wrong. I was able to arrange the meeting, and I was genuinely surprised by how helpful and welcoming he was. Irene and I interviewed him at least 20 times over two months, and he was always so gracious. He treated us very well and answered all our questions. I learned a great deal about him during those interviews.

Mr. Pathak with his security guards

I was truly surprised to hear his stories about his politics, protest style, and struggles. Mr. Pathak’s family was very poor. His father worked as a storekeeper at Jain Dharamshala in Varanasi, and Pathak said they often didn’t have enough money for two meals a day, going to bed on an empty stomach many times. He had to stop his studies and was sent to his uncle’s house in the village because his family couldn’t afford to send him to school.

Mr. Pathak at a meeting

He returned to Varanasi after only a few months because his uncle wasn’t nice to him either. Pathak finally enrolled in a municipal school, which were free but often considered a waste of time. When he was just 14, he went to a local shop and asked for a job because he wanted to earn some money to help his family. The shopkeeper laughed at him, saying he couldn’t employ a 14-year-old student. Arun Pathak explained that he only wanted a part-time job in the evenings.

Honored by Sankaracharya

After much pleading, the shopkeeper agreed to hire him. Pathak worked for one month, and when he received his first salary of only 30 rupees, he was so happy to share it with his family. But as he was walking home, a few bullies stopped him and took his money, forcing him to buy them alcohol. After drinking, they all went together and beat up his family. Mr. Pathak says his family was beaten because they couldn’t pay their apartment rent on time.

Mr. Pathak in 2002

At that time, a political party called Shiv Sena was very popular in India for its work with the youth. Shiv Sena has always been known as a right wing Hindu party. There was a rumor then that Shiv Sena was giving a pistol to all new members, and after hearing this, Mr. Pathak decided to join so he could get a pistol to kill the people who had beaten his family. Since it was just a rumor, he never received a pistol. But Mr. Pathak proudly says he found nuclear bombs instead of pistols in Shiv Sena.

Arrest

When he talks about nuclear bombs, he’s referring to the hardcore people of Shiv Sena. He says he had always been a leader, even in school, and after joining Shiv Sena, he once again became popular due to his leadership qualities. Many people in his party became his fans, ready to die or kill for him. He organized numerous programs under the banner of Shiv Sena and became very popular. After 11 years of hard work, he became the district chief of Shiv Sena in 2000.

Mr. Pathak’s priests

His protests were always massive and a topic of conversation in society. His protests against the films Water, Girlfriend, and Chori-Chori Chupke-Chupke were talked about all over the world. Shiv Sena has always protested against Valentine’s Day celebrations in India, and he also organized huge protests against the festival in Varanasi. His protests against liquor stores, corruption, and several other issues also gained immense popularity. Soon, Mr. Pathak became a major name throughout India.

Hunger strike

Mr. Pathak has always been known for his extreme methods. He has consumed poison five times to protest. Once, he cut the veins in his right hand after being stopped from entering a temple. When I asked him why he did such things, he laughed and said, “Nobody listens to the poor. If you are poor and powerless, this is what you do to make people listen to you.” He proudly says that he is the inventor of staging suicide as a form of protest.

I had read many articles claiming the substance he consumed wasn’t actually poison. When I asked Mr. Pathak about it, he showed me his palm, which sweats all the time. He said his body developed this problem after he first consumed poison. He showed me his medical prescription, which states he can’t eat heavy or spicy food and must drink filtered water—all due to the effects of the poison he consumed so many times.

Distributing books in Mumbai

He says it wasn’t just him; others also consumed poison or tried to burn themselves at his request for a protest. After saying this, he called over one of his workers named Bulli. Bulli is 29 years old and consumed poison when he was only 14, to protest against the film Chor-Chori Chupke-Chupke. I asked Bulli several times when I met him alone why he did it, and each time his answer was the same: he did not know. He always says, “Mr. Pathak asked me to, so I did it.” I asked him if he regretted it, and he replied, “Why would I regret it? It was Bhaiya’s (brother’s) order. He knows what’s best for me.”

at a school

I was shocked to hear this. How can one person have such control over another? The bigger shock is people’s unwavering belief in Mr. Pathak. He worked with Shiv Sena until 2003 and then left because he was unhappy with how the party was discriminating against certain communities. Shiv Sena was beating up and kicking North Indians out of Maharashtra, a situation that deeply hurt Mr. Pathak, and he decided to leave the party. He formed his own political party and ran it for four years. Finally, in 2007, he realized he needed a bigger platform to raise his voice and fight against major evils. He joined the Bahujan Samaj Party, which is known for working with lower-caste communities and fighting against corruption.

Attack

Again, due to his leadership qualities, he was appointed as a co-coordinator for two state assembly seats in Varanasi. During his tenure, he made the Bahujan Samaj Party very popular in Varanasi, where it had previously had no presence. For the past year, he has been somewhat away from politics, devoting his time entirely to social service and religion. He says he’s conducting research on the outcomes of religious practices. To do this, he has hired 11 priests who perform Vedic yagyas (rituals) every day.

distributing books to poor students

These yagyas and other rituals have been going on continuously since October 2010. He says he wants to reveal the truth to society. If there is no outcome from such practices, people should not waste their time. But if performing rituals truly works, they should be done correctly. He believes that rituals don’t seem helpful nowadays because they were created thousands of years ago and need to be changed to fit the times, and he wants to discover what that change should be.

offering food to poor

I have been to Mr. Pathak’s place several times, and every time, I see people coming to him for help. He makes some kind of donation almost every day. I’ve seen him offer food to people with leprosy, the blind, or the physically challenged. I’ve seen him pay school fees for poor students or buy them books. I’ve seen him pay for poor people’s weddings. I think he makes every possible kind of donation. He never wears a new piece of clothing until he has donated the same item to a few poor people. I still remember when he bought 12 tracksuits: 11 were donated to beggars on the street first, and only then did he wear one.

offering food to blinds

I have seen people following him everywhere; I’m sure he has thousands of fans in Varanasi alone. He’s like a star in Varanasi, always surrounded by a minimum of six security guards. He says there’s a threat to his life because so many people don’t like his popularity, so he needs security guards with him all the time. After saying this, he paused for a moment and said, “Can you imagine? I started working at the age of 14 because of my poor family background. My first salary was only 30 rupees, and now I have to spend a good amount of money just on my security.”

offering food to lepers

It is definitely a huge change for anyone, and Mr. Pathak certainly deserves it. I have now met Mr. Pathak several times, and I like him a lot. I admire his work style, his dedication, his understanding of society, and his incredibly helpful nature. I am sure I have become his fan and would love to see him progress in his life. I personally believe he is a thousand times better leader and politician than anyone I have ever met. Our society definitely needs people like him.

Mumbai Gay Pride 2009

I attended Mumbai Gay Pride on August 16th. This date was chosen because the organizers of the event, from the gay community, decided to celebrate their freedom one day after India’s Independence Day on August 15th. They felt that while India gained freedom on that day, the gay community had yet to achieve their own freedom. The event was organized by an NGO called Humsafar, which works with the gay community in Mumbai. I had already been in touch with Humsafar about my project, and they were very welcoming. Although I was in Gwalior for training, I took a 4-day leave and flew to Mumbai, arriving on the night of the 14th.

 

I had attended this year’s Delhi Pride on June 26th and missed having a video camera. This time, I arranged for one to record the Mumbai Gay Pride. I asked my friend Yogesh, who works in Bollywood, to help me get a camera, and he provided everything I needed. On the 16th, I went to Humsafar with a cameraman and a friend from the US named Ryan, whom I had invited to join me at Mumbai Pride. My goals were to cover the parade preparations, interview a few people at Humsafar and at the parade, participate in the event, enjoy the party, and make new contacts for future collaborations.

I was scheduled to start interviews at Humsafar at noon, but upon arrival, I found several media personnel already interviewing their team. However, they arranged for someone to show me around their office, which was impressive. They had an HIV and AIDS testing center, which I had not seen in other NGOs before. The Humsafar representative took me to the second floor where preparations for the next day’s parade were underway. About 20 people, including some hijras, were practicing dances. They had a drummer playing Punjabi dhol and a large sound system. I was surprised to see them practicing traditional hijra dance.

I spent some time observing the preparations; the enthusiasm and hard work of the performers were evident. The performers were either homosexuals or hijras who sought assistance from Humsafar. The office representative informed me that the CEO of Humsafar, Mr. Vivek Raj Anand, had just arrived and offered me the opportunity to interview him. I felt fortunate to have a 15-minute interview with him, during which he demonstrated his deep knowledge and commitment to the issues.

I believe the gay community has always existed in India, but many view it as a foreign concept. Therefore, when interviewing people about gay culture, I ask about its history in India and its presence in Hindu religious texts. I believe that understanding its historical and religious context can make it easier for people to accept and support it. My goal was to interview people and share these interviews online. I conducted the interviews in Hindi to ensure that people in India could understand them. During the interviews, one interviewee shared stories from the Ramayana and other Hindu texts that indicated the presence of gay culture even during Ram’s time.

He discussed the challenges he faced, societal discrimination, and his hopes for the future. It was enlightening to learn about the history of gay culture in India, especially within Hinduism. Mr. Anand expressed interest in having me work with the MSM (men who have sex with men) community in Benares. He offered to help with funding or projects through the UP government, which was something I was eager to pursue. However, he mentioned that Humsafar does not operate outside Mumbai and Thane districts. They could provide support such as funding or training but would not extend their work beyond these areas.

Since my NGO, Sanjeevani Booti, was not yet registered under section 12A, I would not be able to collaborate with him soon. However, Sanjeevani Booti has now completed its first year, so I can apply for this registration. Mr. Anand also mentioned his gratitude to Baba Ramdev on behalf of the gay community. Baba Ramdev challenged the Delhi High Court’s judgment on Section 377 in the Supreme Court of India. Mr. Anand believed the Supreme Court would soon rule in favor of the gay community, leading to equal rights. I share his appreciation for Baba Ramdev’s efforts.

I interviewed Mr. Anand, the manager of Humsafar, one bisexual individual, two hijras, and a few gay men. It was a valuable experience hearing their stories. Despite their different backgrounds, they faced similar issues, primarily discrimination. The Humsafar manager shared his struggle to obtain a passport with a gender marker reflecting his identity as a female or hijra. Government officials were unfamiliar with the concept of transgender identities, and he had sued the government over this issue. He is currently preparing for a gender change operation but faces obstacles due to the lack of a passport.

I also interviewed a Muslim gay man with two hijras. This was my first interview with a Muslim gay individual. He shared that his family would never accept his desire to marry a man, leaving him with the choice to either escape or remain unmarried. The hijras provided fascinating insights into their community, revealing that there are two types of hijras, each with different customs and levels of respect. I had always been confused about the distinction between “hijra” and “gay.” The hijras explained that educated people use the term “gay,” while uneducated people use “hijra.” They also discussed the challenges faced by the hijra community in India, which mirrored those faced by others I interviewed.

They mentioned the existence of two types of hijras: those who marry a hijra goddess and can live with their families, and those who bless and dance at weddings. One of the bisexual interviewees was a male sex worker. It was my first encounter with a male sex worker, and our conversation was eye-opening. He recounted his experiences and challenges, including an amusing story about mistakenly offering condoms to a policeman. The first day focused on observing preparations and conducting interviews at Humsafar. After finishing the interviews, we waited for an auto-rickshaw when I met Sourendra, a 25-26-year-old who was also gay and frequented Humsafar. We went to a litti-chokha (a famous Bihari food) party with my friend and interviewed Sourendra over dinner at 1 a.m.

I regretted bringing Sourendra to the party because his presence attracted unwanted attention from other guests. Despite the discomfort, Sourendra was open and energetic, discussing his experiences with discrimination and societal expectations. He shared an intriguing story about the existence of gays and hijras during Krishna’s time, which I had never heard before. After the parade, my friend Bijay took me to a renowned restaurant near August Kranti Marg. Following a few beers, we went to Bijay’s hotel and later to a party at a disco. The Mumbai party was distinct from the Delhi party, being organized by participants rather than the parade organizers.

Despite the Rs. 500 entry fee, the party was lively and had a larger turnout, including more lesbian couples. I drank too much and got drunk, witnessing many gay couples showing affection. The Mumbai Gay Pride seemed more organized compared to Delhi’s. There was a van with banners, posters, masks, and t-shirts, though the t-shirts sold out quickly. They also distributed bottled water and had volunteers collecting trash, making it a cleaner event. Many people watched the parade from their balconies, and some joined spontaneously. The Mumbai parade featured more transgenders and hijras than Delhi’s, with a group performing traditional hijra dance.

The parade ended at August Kranti Marg with speeches from social workers and NGO members about gay rights and future plans. I also interviewed a gay couple at the beach nearby. Regarding Section 377’s repeal, I found that everyone I spoke to was happy about it. A participant explained that such laws are crucial for societal change, and while Section 377 did not directly impact gay culture, it altered societal attitudes over time. With its repeal, there is hope for equal rights in the future, even if it may take decades. After the parade, Bijay and I went to a disco party. The Mumbai party, organized by participants, had a higher turnout and was different from Delhi’s.

Although I had to leave early for a 6 a.m. flight back to Bhopal, the party was memorable. Ryan helped me pack and get to the airport. Despite the craziness, I thoroughly enjoyed the trip, meeting new people, learning about their experiences, and establishing connections with Humsafar. They have invited me to the parade next year, and I plan to attend. My friend Sanjay, who initially thought my project was crazy, changed his perspective after hearing the interviews. He now supports equal rights for gays.

The stories I shared about gay culture in Hindu religion helped shift his view. I believe that if more people learn about the historical presence of gays in Hindu culture, acceptance will grow. The main issue behind discrimination against gays in India is a communication gap, especially regarding sex practices, compounded by the 150 years of Section 377. This law deeply affected societal attitudes, but historically, gay practices were part of Hindu culture. The British altered everything, and as we slowly address the issues they left behind, I hope we can also overcome this outdated system.

Coca-Cola research for book

I worked with the American writer Mr. Michael Blanding as his translator and local assistant for two days, on June 14th and 15th, in Mehndiganj. Mr. Blanding is writing a book titled *Coke Machine*, which explores the Coca-Cola issue and will be published by Penguin Publications, USA. I first met him on June 14th at the Lok Samiti’s office in Mehndiganj. While Michael has previously written articles about the Coca-Cola issue in Colombia, this book will also address problems in India, Colombia, and Mexico. One of his notable articles is “Coke: The New Nike?”

Broken pipes of Rain harvesting system at Mirjamuraj Police station

Before working with Michael, I was aware of the issues in India and Colombia but did not know that Mexico was also affected. Michael informed me that Mexico is the largest market for Coca-Cola products, and now faces severe problems with obesity and other health issues. Obesity was not prevalent in Mexico a few years ago, but with the increased sales of Coca-Cola products, the obesity rates have also risen. He also mentioned that Coca-Cola and Pepsi are planning to introduce coconut water in India, which struck me as odd. I doubt they will be able to offer a truly natural product, as it will likely be mixed with chemicals.

We interviewed about ten people, visited Coca-Cola’s rainwater harvesting sites at various locations, and examined their wastewater discharge system. I had hoped for improvements, but the situation remains unchanged. We visited two rainwater harvesting sites: one on the rooftop of the Agriculture Research Center in Kallipur village and another on the rooftop of the Mijramurad Police Station. Neither site was operational, with most pipes either broken or jammed. At the Agriculture Research Center, staff reported that Coca-Cola had set up the site about two years ago to create a positive impression.

 

However, it ceased functioning within a few months, and despite notifying Coca-Cola officials, no repairs were made. The rooftop now overflows, and the rainwater harvesting system is entirely nonfunctional. The well, intended to capture and recharge groundwater, was completely dry, and residents said they had never seen water in it due to jammed pipes. The situation at the Mijramurad Police Station was similar. Most pipes were broken or jammed, and local residents, including a journalist and police officers, confirmed that the site stopped working a few months after its installation, with no subsequent maintenance from Coca-Cola.

Residents near the Coca-Cola plant reported significant water shortages, blaming the company for their problems. They noted that water scarcity was not an issue before Coca-Cola arrived in Mehndiganj. Many showed us their dry wells and nonfunctional hand pumps. Farmers now purchase water for irrigation because their bore wells no longer work. Wealthier individuals with submersible pumps sell water to poorer farmers. We visited two ponds dug by the village committee, which are different from Coca-Cola’s sites. The committee had chosen land with lime-rich soil to filter the water effectively.

They connected nearby villages to the pond through pipes, allowing rainwater to flow into the pond and recharge groundwater. It appeared that the village committee’s efforts were far more effective than Coca-Cola’s. Nandlal Master, President of Lok Samiti, mentioned that Coca-Cola had conducted groundwater testing through an agency called TERI (Tata Environmental Research Institute), which recommended that the company leave Mehndiganj. Based on my observations over the past three years, I agree that Coca-Cola should exit Mehndiganj. I am eager for Michael’s book to be published and hope it will support the people of Mehndiganj in their struggle.

 

Interview with sex workers

We interviewed several sex workers in Kolkata for the documentary, and I was fortunate to serve as the interpreter between them and Seranna, which allowed me to speak with them personally. One notable observation was that many of the sex workers we spoke with had entered the profession after experiencing significant hardships in their lives. For example, I spoke with a sex worker originally from Faizabad, now residing in Kolkata. She shared that she had married a Muslim man against her family’s wishes, leading her to leave her home and move to Kolkata.

After spending a few months in Kolkata, she discovered that her husband was a drug user. Despite her repeated pleas for him to quit drugs and find a job, he refused to change. When she had a child, their financial situation became dire, as her husband was unemployed and she couldn’t seek help from her family due to the conflict caused by her interfaith marriage. Faced with these challenges, she decided to leave her home and turn to sex work at a brothel. She is now happy with her life, feeling that it is better than what her husband could provide.

She enjoys a newfound independence and freedom, and has even rebuilt her relationship with her family. Initially, there were issues when her family learned she had become a sex worker, but those conflicts have since been resolved. Notably, she worked as a program coordinator for Durbar, the sex workers’ organization. Her role brought her into the public eye, and when her neighbors from her hometown saw her on TV discussing sex work, they began inquiring about her parents. Her parents urged her to leave the profession, but she is resolute in her decision to remain a sex worker. She is very content with her life and even hopes to continue in this profession in her next life.

When asked about her wishes for her child, she expressed a desire for them to attend school and secure a stable job. However, a significant challenge for sex workers is getting their children admitted to school. Most sex workers in India lack residential proof, as many are brought from countries like Nepal or Bangladesh, or they frequently change their residences. Because many sex workers come from other countries, or even if they are from within India, they often lack residential proof. This is due to frequent changes in their place of residence or the controlling nature of brothel owners.

Typically, sex workers are not permitted to leave the brothel area. While some may work at hotels, this opportunity is limited. Brothel owners usually only send those who have been with them for several years, as these workers are considered less likely to run away. In some cases, brothel owners also send someone along with the sex workers when they go to hotels to ensure they remain under control. Another major issue for sex workers is the low income they earn from their profession. In India, sex work is very inexpensive, and sex workers often lack social identity and security.

Typically, they charge between Rs. 50-100 per client, as sex work is usually brief—clients often engage in sex for just 5-10 minutes and then leave. Sometimes, they do not even see the face of the person they are with. Both sex workers and clients prefer to keep their identities hidden, which contributes to the clandestine nature of the work. Sometimes, sex workers spend up to an hour with a single client, earning around Rs. 500 for that session. However, this is not the norm. Typically, they see numerous clients each day, often making only Rs. 50 per client after giving half of their earnings to the brothel owner.

Though they might have a few regular clients who are more generous and even book overnight sessions, these opportunities are rare. The majority of their income is minimal, forcing them to see more than ten clients daily, which takes a significant physical and emotional toll on them. Due to the lack of residential proof, sex workers struggle to open bank accounts or access services that require identity verification. In India, stringent checks for residential documents have become more common since the Mumbai bomb blasts, exacerbating the difficulties faced by sex workers. If they are caught without proper documentation, they risk being sent to jail.

Many sex workers reported that police raids are frequent, during which they are often beaten, abused, or imprisoned. Ironically, the same officers who conduct these raids sometimes return the following day to solicit sexual services from them. The sex workers explained that brothel owners typically pay local police stations a bribe each month to avoid raids. Despite this, the police still conduct raids when there is political pressure or an opportunity for personal gain. Some sex workers recounted disturbing experiences where police officers took them to jail and sexually assaulted them there. It was deeply shocking to hear how those meant to uphold the law were instead violating it.

They also mentioned that, in some cases, the police have even targeted the children of sex workers, which was particularly horrifying and hard to believe. When we asked sex workers about their services, most said they do not perform oral sex or offer massages to their clients. Only one woman admitted to giving oral sex, but only to select clients. In India, discussing oral sex is taboo, and it is often not mentioned by sex workers. This reluctance is surprising, as providing such services could potentially increase their earnings. The reasons for this silence are unclear, but some believe it is considered an “English style” of sex, though it may have historical roots in India. It’s possible that this practice was introduced by the British and then spread globally.

One of the sex workers shared a story from the early days of Durbar’s efforts to provide basic literacy and education. Durbar sought to rent a room from the local community to start their classes. Despite their best efforts, which included approaching nearly everyone in the neighborhood over a two-month period, no one agreed to rent them a space. Many residents questioned Durbar’s motives, arguing that educating sex workers would lead them to disrespect others and make their own decisions. As a result, Durbar had to set up the classes at their own office, which was about a kilometer away from the brothels.

Another interesting observation was that many sex workers have a regular client who holds a special place in their lives. This client is not merely a customer but acts like a life partner, often providing support for the sex worker’s children. One significant challenge for sex workers is getting their children admitted to school, as they are required to provide the name of the child’s father. Since this can be difficult due to their circumstances, some of these special clients step in and provide their name as the father, helping the sex workers with the admission process.

We also inquired about sexually transmitted diseases, and, frankly, most sex workers were only aware of HIV. They knew about lubricants but had limited knowledge beyond that. Despite using condoms, they reported frequent breakage, which they attributed mainly to poor-quality condoms. I believe that using lubricant could help prevent such issues. Before meeting Lane, I had never seen lubricant myself, and I’m puzzled as to why it’s not readily available in our market. The sex workers clearly need more comprehensive training and education on sexual health, but unfortunately, the government is doing little to address these needs.

All the sex workers we spoke to expressed a strong belief that sex work should be decriminalized, a sentiment I share. I consider sex work to be one of the world’s oldest professions, possibly even the oldest, alongside agriculture. Legalizing and decriminalizing it is crucial, as sex workers are an integral part of society and deserve the same respect as anyone else. Unfortunately, achieving this change in India will likely be a prolonged struggle, given the current state of our politics. Often, when one political faction attempts to make progress on this issue, others obstruct their efforts. Despite these challenges, organizations like Durbar are making commendable strides, and I remain hopeful for meaningful change in the future.

Sex worker’s conference

Today marked the inauguration of the conference, and we arrived around 9 o’clock. The event took place in a spacious hall, filled with nearly a thousand attendees, including sex workers from various parts of India and abroad. It was the largest gathering of sex workers I’ve ever seen. There were also many Hijras present, and participants from Bangladesh, Cambodia, Australia, Hong Kong, the US, and the UK. However, the majority were from India and Bangladesh. The event was graced by the Mayor of Kolkata, some religious leaders, and numerous other VIPs as chief guests.

I had the opportunity to meet Dr. Jana, a member of the Government of India’s advisory board on HIV and AIDS programs. He is the founder of the Sonagachi Project, a remarkable initiative that has become a global model for success. The conference was organized into two daily sessions, each lasting three hours. The second session featured a panel discussion on whether sex workers should be considered entertainment workers. Although the conversation was predominantly in Bengali, I managed to grasp about half of it.

It was fascinating to hear the sex workers share their perspectives and experiences. Many spoke about the challenges they face, particularly those related to police harassment and societal discrimination. A recurring issue highlighted was the difficulty their children face in gaining school admissions due to their parents’ profession. Additionally, they struggle with opening bank accounts or obtaining insurance because they lack residential proof. This also means they might have trouble accessing online services, as identity verification is now required at cybercafés.

During the conference, a few media representatives approached Seranna for interviews about our documentary. She was interviewed first, followed by myself. They were interested in discussing the Sanjeevani Booti project. After my interview, they spoke with other foreigners, Hijras, and sex workers. I’m eager to interview a few sex workers myself, as this is a unique opportunity to gain deeper insights into their lives and experiences. I plan to conduct these interviews tomorrow.

Interview with Musahars in the village

During my time working for the Financial Times in Varanasi, I had the opportunity to spend time with the Musahar community, a group still considered untouchable in Indian society. Traditionally, Musahars are known for collecting and making bowls from Pipal leaves, a craft that has become increasingly obsolete as plastic bowls have replaced their traditional products. We visited a Mushahar village near Mehndiganj, Varanasi. The village consisted of simple clay huts, and the interviewee was a 24-year-old married woman whose husband worked as a rickshaw driver.

The family of six included her husband, father-in-law, mother-in-law, and two daughters. Despite their dire economic situation, none of their daughters attended school. Her husband earned only Rs. 25 (50 cents USD) per day, and due to their caste, no one in the local community wanted to ride in his rickshaw. During the harvest season, Mushahars get some temporary work cutting grains on other people’s land. Ironically, while they cut and handle the grains that others eat, they are not allowed to sit on the same rickshaw or access the same resources due to their caste.

Their payment for this labor is often in the form of grains rather than cash. They typically receive around 150 kgs of grains per year, valued at Rs. 2000 ($50), which is not enough to sustain a family. The traditional occupation of making leaf bowls has lost its significance due to the widespread use of plastic, further impacting the Mushahar community’s income. Although this practice persists in smaller towns, cities like Varanasi are slowly abandoning it. During the interview, the interviewer was shocked by the family’s meager income and gave Rs. 500 to the interviewee as a gesture of empathy.

The local guide suggested distributing the money among the villagers. However, this led to a heated argument among the community members. The interviewee insisted on keeping the initial Rs. 500 for herself, while the villagers argued that it should be shared. The situation escalated into a conflict, and we had to leave quickly to avoid further violence. The village had only a hand pump and a well for water, both of which often dried up during the summer. Being near a Coca-Cola plant, they faced significant water scarcity issues. The local people, aware of their caste, would not allow them to use their water resources. As a result, the women of the Mushahar community, who are responsible for fetching water, had to walk 2-3 kilometers daily to get water.

When we arrived, the villagers brought out a Khatia (a rope bed) for us to sit on. However, when they asked about my caste and learned that I am a Brahmin, they refused to sit with me due to the caste differences.

Stupid Coca-Cola manager

While working on a project related to Coca-Cola, we were passing by the Coke plant in Mehndiganj, Varanasi when we noticed a house right next to it. My researcher friend was keen on interviewing someone nearby, so she asked me to find people who might agree to an interview. As I got out of the taxi in front of the Coke plant, I noticed a few security guards at the plant gate. They observed me and then went inside the plant, though I initially didn’t think much of it.

I found an elderly man in the house who was willing to be interviewed, as he was facing significant difficulties. I called my friend, and as she approached, I saw the same security guards watching us from the roof of the plant. When they saw the white girl coming towards me, they quickly descended from the roof. I assumed they were simply curious about our activities. A few minutes later, a well-dressed man arrived with several security guards. He introduced himself as a regional manager from Amar Ujala, a leading Indian newspaper, and claimed to be researching the Coke issue for an upcoming article.

He showed me an ID card issued by Amar Ujala, which confirmed his affiliation. He expressed interest in collaborating with my friend and was thrilled to find another researcher working on the same topic. They exchanged contact details. Meanwhile, the interviewee was vocal about his grievances with Coca-Cola. He claimed that he had been a landlord before Coke’s arrival but had struggled to grow enough crops since the company’s operations began. The Amar Ujala representative, however, argued that Coke provided many local jobs, a point the interviewee disputed.

The representative then gave the interviewee a written note, advising him to take it to the Coke manager to help his unemployed son find a job, claiming the manager was his good friend. The interviewee was hopeful that this would secure employment for his son. After the interview, we left, and I contacted Mr. Nandlal Master to update him. To my shock, Mr. Nandlal Master revealed that the Amar Ujala representative was actually Coca-Cola’s area manager, Mr. Amit Sinha. He had previously worked for Amar Ujala but left a few months ago to join Coke. The ID card he showed was from his time at Amar Ujala, which he had not returned.

Later that evening, Mr. Sinha called my friend, asking to meet her the next day. He called again that night, and his behavior became increasingly inappropriate. He suggested she stay with him at his place, which she declined, preferring to meet in a public setting. Despite her refusal, he persisted with suggestive comments and invitations. When she mentioned she was married, he rudely suggested that her husband wouldn’t know, which prompted her to angrily hang up the phone. She was deeply disturbed by this encounter, an unexpected behavior from a Coca-Cola manager.

The incident led to significant pressure from everyone involved to lodge a formal complaint. My friend was reluctant due to concerns about her privacy and the potential for public exposure. Mr. Nandlal Master also reached out to Amar Ujala, who were also interested in pursuing a case against Mr. Sinha for misusing their name but needed a written complaint from my friend, which she was unwilling to provide. A few days later, we visited the Coke plant with special permission from Coke US. I confirmed Mr. Sinha’s employment with Coke, and the company made efforts to appease my friend, showing her their nearby rainwater harvesting sites.

However, these sites were not close to the plant, the nearest being about 8 kilometers away. In the days that followed, Mr. Sinha attempted to settle the issue by offering money through Mr. Nandlal Master, which was firmly rejected. The situation continued for over 15 days, with persistent pressure on me to convince my friend to file a complaint, but she refused. Eventually, she left India, hoping that Mr. Sinha would be held accountable in the future, although he remains Coca-Cola’s area manager to this day.

For privacy reasons, I have not disclosed her name in any related posts.

Production work for CBC’s documentary

Today was Nagnathiya, and the CBC team was in Varanasi to start filming their documentary titled *India Rebron – Myths and Might*. Mr. Shubhranshu Chowdhary called me to inform me about it. I had previously assisted him with researching the characters. I met the team at Veer Bhadra Mishra’s house, where the play is organized in Benares. The crowd was massive, with over 25,000 people attending. Although I had seen the play several times before, this was my first experience watching it from a boat, which was a lot of fun. There were many VIPs around my boat.

CBC’s camera was incredible—it was an HD camera, and I had never seen anything like it before. I stayed with them throughout the play’s filming. Afterward, we went to Dashashwamedh Ghat to film the Aarti, which was the final task for the day. CBC wanted to film Mr. Veer Bhadra Mishra the next morning, something I had been looking forward to. I asked Mr. Chowdhary if I could observe Mr. Mishra’s interview, and he said he would call me when they started shooting.

I was very excited about the interview and eagerly awaited Mr. Chowdhary’s call, but he didn’t call. When I finally reached out to him, he informed me that I wouldn’t be able to attend the interview due to certain restrictions imposed by Mr. Mishra. After Mr. Mishra’s interview, the team spent the entire day filming Raja Babu, one of our characters. After two days with Raja Babu, they left Benares.