On ‘The Many Lives of Syeda X’
The Untold Story of The Terrible Life of Migrants
Some books are called ‘unputdownable.’ But I put down this book in review, ‘The Many Lives Of Syeda X’ after each chapter. The reality of the lives of downtrodden hit me hard and made continuous reading impossible. And this well researched book covers a real-life account of thirty years of Syeda’s life.
I had read Laxman Mane’s autobiography ‘Upara’ (The Outsider, it won Sahitya Academy Award) in my late twenties and it shocked me and made me aware that there was a world within world which was unknown to me. It was a world of people ignored by the Society; the migrant nomadic tribes were not on anyone’s radar screen.
‘Understanding The Muslim Mind’ authored by Rajmohan Gandhi opened me to the problems of Muslims. It impacted me so much that I wrote an article using the same name.
Rajmohan Gandhi wrote biographical sketches of eight Muslim leaders, and they were well-to-do and educated. Nevertheless, I was sensitized to the plight of Muslims many who lived in poverty.
‘The Many Lives Of Syeda X’ is about the plight of a migrant Muslim family. (But I guess it is also representative of the lives of many like Syeda). The family which did not belong to any nomadic tribe, like Laxman Mane’s family in ‘Upara’, but became migrant as they were compelled by economic and social circumstances to migrate. From Varanasi to Delhi. No marks for guessing why. That was the aftermath of the fall of Babri Masjid.
Syeda and family stay in slums on the outskirts of Delhi, do odd jobs (one must read the book to understand what it means) at criminally exploitative wages to make a living. There are three children at home, and they are growing up which brings up many problems. Reshma, the youngest of the children is growing up and refuses to defecate in the open.
The book is so well researched that readers may feel that the author must have lived with them. It captures in detail how the local and global developments can affect the lives of the downtrodden. Yes, they affect but they do not raise their living standards. The worst local ‘development’ is the communal violence when a Muslim family can lose their belongings, and the bloodshed can affect the members of the family. We know these stories, but a detailed description of an actual event is disturbing. We see how violence causes turmoil in the lives of the hapless.
Syeda and her family lives in a world which is seeing a different set of events. Not just violence. New laws come in force which impact migrants though they are not aimed at them. That redefining constituencies and government’s acquisition of land impacts them and forces them to move out. Added to this is the treatment by majority community to the children of Muslims. There are many factors which affect them.
With economic development one would expect that the downtrodden would have some chance to move up the social ladder. In real life however it does not work that way. Even the ways of activists can hurt them badly.
* * *
Suddenly they heard screams from their lane. The iron door of the house they lived in was pushed open with a loud thud. A woman and two men piled in into their room. Syeda sat up.
‘There is one child here too. Take her,’ said one of the men, pointing at Reshma.
(With Reshma’s help, Syeda was preparing eight to ten balls in fifteen hours daily. At the rate of Rs 5 per ball, they were making up to Rs 50 daily.)
No one introduced themselves. They took photos of Reshma sitting next to the hexagonal patches, grabbed some raw material, and dragged Reshma out of the house. She was pushed into a jeep with some other children from the neighbourhood.
A man tapped on the Jeep’s bonnet and asked the driver to drive away.
Syeda ran behind them. Parshuram, a bindi thekedar from the adjacent lane, stopped her.
“Where are they taking Reshma?” She asked Parshuram in a panic.
“Children under fourteen are not allowed to work. But don’t worry. They will be back in the evening,” he replied.
* * *
Nobody wants children to work. But poverty leaves people with no choice. The wage rates are exploitative, and the workers have no choice but to accept what’s offered. Unfortunately, this stark reality is often lost to people who read about child labour casually.
The author Neha Dixit says that the book is a product of interacting with about 900 people. But none of the events are conflated. There was personal risk. Neha Dixit was stalked for over five months and received incessant acid attack and gang-rape threats. You meet the same fate when you investigate the super-rich and their (interesting) lives. The author must be credited for producing an impactful and detailed and well researched account of migrants, and that the more disadvantaged among them, Muslims.
This book must be read to understand how lives of people are affected by events in the society – communal riots, government policies, political turmoil, exploitative industry. And of course, the lives of the migrants who is the most neglected group of people in the society. The question is if there is hope for the poor who live below poverty line or just about there, and the answer is the one everybody knows.
‘The Many Lives of Syeda X’, Author Neha Dixit, Juggernaut, The New India Foundation, Rs 799
Vivek S Patwardhan
What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others/ All work copyrighted.
Everyone who claims to be a committed and concerned Indian possessing a strong social conscience free from the baggage of prejudices and pre-conceived half baked opinions must openly thank Vivek Patwardhan for introducing them to this book Thereafter they must read it.I confess to a tremendous mental upheaval after reading Vivek’s piece and sincerely thank him.
One thing I must say is that in the decades that I’ve known you, first as a client and then as a friend, I never experienced the slightest prejudice ever. I have many Hindu friends, needless to say, several for more than 3 decades. Some for more than 4. One of the latter who you also know Vivek, was not just a friend but a brother. Many beautiful memories. He told me one day that he was returning from the factory when there was unrest and was stopped at a road block. They demanded that he got out of the car. He’s not Maratha and didn’t speak Marathi well. But they were not interested in that. They asked him if he was Muslim. When we said that he was Hindu, they forced him to take off his trousers and underwear to inspect his penis. He told me, “It’s a good thing I was not circumcised. Otherwise they would have killed me.” I wonder how Jews would fare in such a situation. Interestingly, today that friend has retired and I’m told that he has become a strong supporter of extremist ideology. Which explains why he no longer answers my calls.
Another experience I had almost 60 years ago when I was in school, Hyderabad Public School, one of the most exclusive of the time, was when a Hindu friend invited me home for lunch on Sunday. To my surprise the two of us ate by ourselves, unlike what happens in our Indian culture where you eat with the family. And after we finished his mother told the servant lady to wash my plate outside the house under the garden tap and not in the kitchen sink with the other plates. She spoke in Telugu assuming that I didn’t speak it. I did and I do. When I narrated this story to my mother she was not surprised. She said, “They’re Brahmins and you’re an outcast for them.” I was 10 years old at the time. We learn lessons early.
Another time I was at a Diwali party in Delhi. All civil service officers, some military officers, and wealthy businessmen and their wives. A. IPS friend took me there. I knew nobody. As we entered the room, the conversation stopped like someone had turned off a switch. Everyone looked at me. My friend said, “This is my friend Yawar.” They said, “Namashkar Yadav Saab,ayiye, ayiye.” Neither my friend nor I corrected them. The conversation started again. And it was about the “Muslim Problem”. It was an interesting evening, to say the least.
Strangely I never developed this anti Hindu feeling. Maybe because I have an equal if not more experiences of my Hindu friends who remain faithful. I would trust them with my life and I know they feel the same about me.
But others have changed. Why? That’s what’s so painful. Especially because they’re all like me, educated, well traveled, cosmopolitan. Or at least that’s what I think.
What makes someone who has only encountered good from someone else consistently over decades, who has shared memories through thick and thin, happiness and grief, who shared in joy and tragedy, whose children grew up in your house, and lap, suddenly turn hostile? You have done nothing to them. You know that. They know that. But suddenly they hate you.
That this is thanks to what Aurangazeb did 400 years ago, is a thought so incredibly stupid, that I refuse to believe it. If that’s not what it is or something like it, then what is it?
I just finished reading ‘The many lives of Syeda X’ today! Wonderful to know you have read it too and to see your review, sir. Juxtaposing Syeda’s life with political events and judgements of courts highlights what we know but are too cushioned to feel – the impact is always on the poor, and esp Muslim and Dalits. Grateful to have read the book.
Such a beautiful description of poverty, and poverty is not an accident.
The greatest disease in the West today is not tuberculosis or leprosy; it is being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for.” —Mother Teresa
Further like Nelson Mandela said ” As long as poverty, injustice, and gross inequality persist in our world, none of us can truly rest.” – in London’s Trafalgar Square in 2005.
Being hungry, being deprived, being isolated, being excluded is not easy.
The book, your response to it and the comments of Mirza Yawar Baig will make any saner human being sad. Incidentally, I attended one training session programme conducted by him in Asian Paints and it pains me to hear his experiences. It’s sad how the country is gripped with the communal narrative drummed up today. I see bleak future for our country.
Thank you Vilas. We have to work to save our nation because the nation is not a line on a map but what lives in our heart. Thank you very much for remembering me.
Very very moving Vivek and equally disturbing just by reading your review.
I have ordered the book! and another that has reference in the blog. We normally host lectures in Dombivli – any thought that takes the nation towards development. it is a non-political forum – i now know who to invite next!
You have really brought out the essence of the entire book. But sadly even after 75 years of independence, our so called leaders have never addressed this issue in its true spirit. Child labor has remained and will remain as long as poverty remains. Our political leaders only try to camouflage the tip of the iceberg to win votes but never have addressed what lies beneath. It is true wherever you go and whichever city you look into. Sadly, nobody takes any serious measures for the upliftment of the poor and downtrodden….
It’s vote bank politics being played by politicians to divide people on communal basis. General public has no interest in such games played by politicians and there is a communal harmony for centuries.It’s unfortunate that likes of Saeeda are suffering due to her religion . May better sense prevail and division on communal lines is stopped forthwith.