Stories of Lights

Stories of Lights Exhibition

2013-12-11T06:41:00.002-08:00

I am organising an exhibition of the photographs from my fieldwork on electricity access in rural India. The exhibition starts on the 6^th of January, 2014 and is titled ‘stories of lights’. It presents different forms of lights, lighting instruments and peoples engagements with them. The exhibition will be at the Elvet hill house and will be open to general public. If some of you would like to visit, please do let me know. I would be happy to give a guided tour. The details of the exhibition are in the poster below.

Ideating Energy: Conceptualising Spaces of Light and Dark

2013-12-09T07:42:00.001-08:00

Ideating Energy: Conceptualising Spaces of Light and Dark: Myself and Dr. Rob Shaw from the Geography Department at Durham University are organising a very interesting event titled Conceptualising ...

Ideating Energy: Delhi is glowing bright: is it really?

2013-09-09T15:35:00.001-07:00

Ideating Energy: Delhi is glowing bright: is it really?: The Delhi state elections are getting nearer and the government is trying its best to inform people about its achievements and schemes. The...

where's the light?

2013-06-11T10:15:00.002-07:00

photographs in field work exhibition

One of my photographs recently was accepted to be the part of an exhibition organised by the Geography Department at Durham University. The exhibition focused on the use of photography in fieldwork. Photographs in my view are an important tool to tell the various stories emerging in the field, especially if one is doing ethnographic work. Since, ethnography involves being, living, spending time and integrating with the community, photographs provide a very good means of recording data, information and experiences. Needless to say, if one is looking at dissemination of one's research, photographs could be one of the most effective means to do so.

So, I submitted a few photographs out of which one was selected for the final exhibition. Its probably my favorite out of the thousands of photographs that I clicked during my 9 months in the field. There are several good ones (self appreciation) but I think this one takes the cake. I especially love the colors in this photograph, which came out naturally. No manipulation of the composition.

Where's the light

first exhibition of my life

I might have given a 100 different titles to this photograph (for me it tells a 100 different stories) but since the blog is called stories of lights, I would go with the light theme. The photo is from a grid connect village. So, from the outside one would say, the village has electricity access. But as you would enter the village, a dark curtain would await you behind which are people and their lives. Does the village has electricity cables and are most of the households connected to the grid? Yes. Do they get electricity supply? Mostly No. Yes, the village struggles with the highly intermittent supply of electricity. They mostly get electricity during the day, late at night or during early hours of the morning. Most people can't relay on electricity for lighting because it is simply absent when they need lighting.

In this picture, a girl child can be seen cooking on a earthen stove. If you look closely, on the left, in the dark, her younger brother is sitting. What's he doing there? He is literally 'giving her light'. How? He has a mobile phone in his hand which has a torch (really just a LED) built into it. Since, there is no electricity, the boy is lighting up the stove with the mobile phone torch so his sister can seen if the chapati (bread) is cooked. If you look more closely, you might be able to see faint shapes in the dark behind the children. Two women are standing in complete darkness overseeing the cooking.

We must understand that just taking the grid to someone's doorsteps ( or for that matter into someone's house) doesn't really give them access to electricity. Its the supply and several variables associated with the supply that complete the 'access' picture. This photographs surely reminds us (or at least me) that we need to re visit our definitions of 'access', 'vulnerability' and 'equity' and re align our understanding of these concepts.

This picture for me also establishes up to an extent, the importance of mobile phones that people in these villages have been telling me about. It is the versatility of the mobiles, the different services that it potentially can and does provide, that makes it such and important part of people's lives. I hope to soon talk more about mobile phones on my other blog. Stay updated. Till then, here's the photograph.

Where's the light: in the mobile phone?

behind the curtains: part 1

2013-04-09T00:44:00.001-07:00

In this post and the next one, I am going to reveal some dark secrets of the village life. Just to make it clear, I am not talking metaphorically. These quite literally will be dark secrets. These photographs have been taken in areas which still struggle for modern energy. The only sources of light that these people have are kerosene and torches. In this post the stories consist of photographs in sets of two, one taken as the the eye sees it and the other after turning the flash on the camera on so as to reveal what the eye can't see.

When I visited these villages, the only thing that was obvious and evident was the curtain of darkness that coved them. As far as my eye could see the landscape was pitch black with a few orange lights here and there, lights from kerosene lamps. In some parts I could see streaks of white light moving around. I was told that these were people going about with torches. I had a torch of my own. At places I would turn it on to find my way. But every time I turned my torch on, I saw things that you wouldn't be able to see otherwise. I saw the dark secrets of these villages. What did I see? Let me show you what I saw, one by one, frame by frame.

Darkness under the lamp

I am sitting with a few dalit women talking to them about the status of electricity in their colony. Suddenly I hear voices from the right. I turn my head to look. All, I can see is a kerosene lamp lit in a room at some distance. The voices keep coming from the darkness under the lamp. I am baffled and scared. My guide turns his torch towards the voice. There are people. The people who were invisible to me until now as they are I think to the government. The invisible people of this village. This is when I use the flash on my camera and the whole landscape is revealed.

Women, babies, goats, dogs, all these invisible from our sights. The women tell me that this is a dangerous situation for them. In the dark often foxes and feral dogs come and bite their children and domestic animals. But they have no option. During summers its hot inside their small houses (if there is room for everyone) and they must sit and sleep out in the open. Wonder when electricity will reach these invisible citizens.

Dinner in the Dark

Same village, different colony. This one is an electrified colony. They have wires but no supply. Another voice from the dark.

This time its a man, squatting on a wooden bed. He having his dinner, in complete darkness. A simple platter consisting of rice, lentils and red chillies. By his side is a torch for when he needs to move around and a stick. He tells me that in the dark often dogs and cats come around to share his food. He must keep the stick ready for his and his dinner's safety. However, he seems unperturbed by the darkness. This is not new for him. Its part of his daily life. He is adapted.

That's it for this post. I will post more such photographs in the next post. Until then think about these invisible people and their invisible lives.

30 years later

2013-01-03T19:19:00.000-08:00

A lone dibiya (kerosene lamp) and books awaits a child

This story comes from the same village as the last one. For the sake of simplicity and confidentiality lets call it Rangpur. Rangpur lies by a dam, between a national highway and the Ganges. The village has a good mixture of people from all castes. Although, the ratio of forwards and backwards [1] is 50:50, the village proceedings are generally dominated by the forwards.

This story is set in the Dabangpur Chamartoli. Chamartoli is a tola (colony) inhibited by Chamars. Chamars by caste and by profession have traditionally been involved in skinning animals, tanning leather and making shoes and other footwear. However, now they have diversified and also moved on. Most of them, like many other backward castes, now work as daily wagers or agricultural workers. Although very few of them own any agricultural land, several now sustain their livelihoods on agriculture by farming on lands of the landed castes on theeka (rental basis) or bataiya (share cropping). Very few actually deal with leather now. Since, chamars dealt with dead animals and leather, they were considered 'unclean' and 'untouchables' in several parts of the country. If one visits a typical Bihari [2] village one would find separate colonies for different castes, with the dalit [3] colonies typically on the fringes or as satellite colonies outside the village boundary. Their 'unclean' status possibly puts them on the fringes, geographically and socially. Although some mixing and acceptance has come their way, the chamartoli in various villages are still found on the fringes.

During the initial days of my fieldwork in Rangpur, I had come to know about the Dabangpur chamartoli. It was strange that this colony of chamars, although a part of Rangpur, was known by the name of the neighbouring village Dabangpur. On enquiring, I found out that this chamartoli lies right on the boarder between Rangpur and Dabangpur. I was also told that these chamars have traditionally been "their chamars", meaning Dabangpur's. This means that the inhabitants of this chamartoli, in the past have been picking the dead animals and doing leather work for the residents of Dabangpur village. That is why it is known by the name of Dabangpur.

Since, I want to visit all parts of Rangpur and see the everyday life of all the sections of the society, it is important for me to visit the chamartoli. The importance of this chamartoli for me further increased after I passed through it a couple of weeks ago and found that the colony had no access to electricity. This I find strange because all other parts of Rangpur have had electricity for the past 30 years.

The mukhiya (headman) of Rangpur village, a higher caste man, is my gatekeeper to this society. He has designated his elder brother, Rameshar as my guide. I have been requesting Rameshar for several days to take me to Dabangpur Chamartoli. He has been a little hesitant. This is probably because of the old stigma of 'uncleanness' [4] associated with the chamars. Anyway, I have finally been able to convince him to accompany me to the chamartoli.

So, armed with our torches we leave for the chamartoli. We climb the dam and head west. After walking for a while I see a solitary lamp lighted under the dam. We climb down the dam and reach a pucca house [5]. This is not the chamartoli. Actually Rameshar doesn't know anyone in the chamartoli. So, he has come to this house, the house of a higher caste family to ask for an introduction. Some men from the chamartoli are called and asked to show us around. We enter the chamartoli. Its dark all around. Our torches are at work again. We reach an opening and some chairs appear from the dark. A kerosene lantern is called for. Its hung to the wall of a kuccha house near by.

I sit on a chair. Rameshar sits on the chair next to me [6]. Some other chairs are laid. Some boys and a couple of men from the chamartoli sit with us. Most men are not back yet. They leave every morning to find work as daily wagers. Several women join us. Some of them keep standing, some sit on the ground in front of us, in the dark. It seems like we are sitting on a island of light in a sea of darkness. We start discussing how they live without electricity. I hear some responses coming from the dark. I point my torch towards the voices. On the ground, on a mat a few women and children are sitting. A goat is standing nearby. I will post these pictures next time when I talk about "whats behind the curtain".

The island of light and the sea of darkness around

After a brief chat, we walk around the colony to see how they manage without electricity. All of them use kerosene lamps. Walking around the colony I see little buoys of light in the sea of darkness, lights from kerosene lamps. But most of these people are the poorest of the poor. Most of them live in kuccha houses. Houses that are made of mud and straw. Houses that are highly vulnerable to fire. Fire from kerosene lamps. Fire that provides light. Light that is risky.

A woman carries out her daily chores under a dibiya

They are egre for me to see all the houses in the chamartoli. They want me to tell their stories. They hope that this would change things for them. I walk with them, watching and talking. A man tells me that during the last 30 years they have received hopes of electrification. Initially wooden poles were erected in this tola. Wires didn't follow. Poles were stolen. Hopes were crushed.

We reach a house, a pucca house. There is no door. By the doorstep, a plastic banner has been laid, a banner for saries [7]. On the banner sits a child with a notebook. By the notebook is a kerosene lamp made from a glass bottle. Near that lies a plastic bag, the child's school bag.

A child studies under the kerosene lamp

The child doesn't seem interested in studying. His notebook is upside down. People have told me before that kids can not focus well and show less interest in studying under the inferior lights of kerosene lamps. We walk further. Someone tells me that 10 years earlier, hope had returned. Electricity poles were erected again. This time metal poles. I ask if wires and transformers followed. No they didn't. Another round of electrification ended with the poles. Again poles were stolen. So were the hopes.

The story of electrification moves on, so do we. We reach another house. Another house, another kerosene lamp. A man is cooking on a chulha [8]. He has just returned from work. His wife stands by. Good news: the man is extending a helping hand in the household chores. Bad news: The indoor environment is full of deadly smoke from the chulha and the dibiya [9].

A man and woman cook under the kerosene dibiya

We walk further. My torch light hits a cement structure. I enquire. Its an electricity pole. Poles have arrived again, so have hopes, for the third time. I am told the cement electricity poles were erected last year but haven't been followed up with wires yet. However, I had seen some wires and a transformer at the headman's house which he told me were for the chamartoli. So, finally some good news for this colony. Electricity and electric lights may finally arrive. I plan to visit this colony again to check on the progress.

As we walk further, we encounter a woman walking with a dibiya in her hand. She doesn't has a torch. They tell me, many women do this. If there is wind they shield the dibiya with their sari. They tell me its dangerous. Sometimes the sari catches fire. Fire that provides light. Light that is risky. The woman laughs it off. Its part of her daily life. She has to live with it.

Woman walking around with a dibiya

In the end we reach another house, a kuccha house. I look into the kitchen. A woman in an orange sari is cooking dinner on a chulha. There is no one else in the room. But she is talking. I look closely. She has a mobile phone. I don't see a dibiya in the room. Its probably on the chulha. She doesn't look at us. She is busy with the mobile phone. The mobile phone has made its way into all the households and is now making its way into all hands. Its a very useful device. Indian mobile phones have inbuilt torches too. Very useful for the residents of this chamartoli. I will show the utility of such mobile phones in a future post.

I have seen enough. I have more questions than answers. I am wondering why electricity has still not made its way to only this part of the village? Why after several tries poles have not been followed up with wires? Has all this got something to do with the dominance of certain castes? What has the state been doing all these years?

I will try and find out the answers to these questions. Keep an eye on this space.

However, the good news is that the wires and the transformer have finally arrived and it may not be long until electricity does too. I will return to click some pictures and talk to the people once this happens.

1. The higher castes, according to the Hindu caste system, are also referred to as 'forwards' and the lower castes as 'backwards'
2. Belonging to the state of Bihar in India
3. Dalits are members of various castes considered as 'untouchables' according to the Hindu caste system. The India constitution has designated them as 'scheduled castes'.
4. I have not used the word 'untouchability' because in my view untouchability is not a issue here. These two parts of the village society (the higher caste and the chamars) now interact closely. Several of these chamars now farm on the lands of higher caste people against a rental or on share cropping, something that may not have been possible in the untouchability era. However, the feeling of 'uncleanness' in my view still arises from the fact that chamars used to deal with dead animals and leather.
5. A solid or permanent house
6. Another evidence that untouchability is not really the issue here
7. Sari is the traditional dress of India. Its is a long piece of cloth that women wrap around their bodies. For reference see the woman above
8. Earthen wood fired hearth used for cooking in Indian villages
9. The oil lamp

Holy Cow

2012-11-18T02:34:00.001-08:00

Algu, having dinner in complete darkness

A sleepy village, tucked between a national highway and the Ganges in central Bihar. It is only 7.00pm. I am having dinner under a battery operated lamp. I have just returned from a home tour related to my research. This village was electrified in the 1960s but people still walk around with torches in hand. Those who can afford, eat dinner under battery operated lamps. There is darkness all around. Electricity is like a guest here. It makes short visits.

Since, it is early, my host offers to take me for another home tour after dinner, an offer I gladly accept. Armed with our torches, we walk through the dark lanes, past the well and past the temple. Finally we reach jaadab toli (Yadav Toli), a neighbourhood inhabited by Yadavs (As par the caste system, Yadavs have traditionally been involved in taking care of cattle and the business of milk).

My host calls for the person we are looking for. A reply comes from the dark. My host directs his torch towards the sound. The man, Algu Yadav is sitting on a chauki (wooden bed used for sleeping and sitting) with a plate full of rice and lentil. The heap of rice is topped with about 10 red chillies (wonder how he manages his mornings). The usual accessories give him company, a torch and a stick. In the dark dogs and cats are regular scares to the food. The stick needs to be kept by the side in case a dog is tempted. The torch will be used when Algu will need to move about. I find this condition strange and worrying but Algu seems to be at peace with his condition.

As we sit down to talk and I open my bag to take out my notebook, we hear some shouting. Its an old woman, running around and crying for help. My first impression is that someone had been bitten by a snake, something that people claim happens often. Then we hear it.

"Help! Please! someone help! The cow has fallen into the well. Help please! They had just brought the cow. Help! Run! Come!"

The cries resonate in the dark, silent night. And the woman disappears into the alley she appeared from.

Soon, I see some people briskly walking, others running towards where the woman had appeared from. This is not to be missed. I must see whats going on and if needed lend a hand. Everyone is going in the same direction. I join them.

An amazing scene awaits me. There is no electricity and its a dark night. I see 50-100 people gathered at one spot, their backs towards me. Everyone has a torch in the hand. All the torches are pointed into a well. The centre of the crowd is illuminated. It seems like a group of holy men is surrounding the newly born god.

Men constantly join and leave the circle around the well. They have metal or plastic hilts in their hands with lights coming out of the hilts. In the surrounding darkness they look like lightsabers from starwars. These jedi of the village keep joining and leaving the war to save the cow, cutting the darkness with their torches.

On a side, by the road, a group of women stand watching, worried, egre to discover the climax of the story. Such events attract as many or more viewers as fighters. In a way they provide a change from the boring, mundane village life. People who otherwise may not move around in the darkness of night, gather to watch and participate in such events.

On one side, a four wheeler is parked, possibly the one the cow was brought on. Someone suggests that the headlamps of the vehicle would make work easier. Quickly, the vehicle is turned and the light pointed towards the well. It illuminates the general area but can't get into the well. In any case the men are surrounding the well. However, the headlamps make work easier in the general area. Work inside the well is still helped with the lightsabers.

Some men have jumped into the well and tied the cow with a rope. A plank is placed on top of the well. A make shift pulley is quickly created. Everyone heaves and the cow is pulled out.

The cow seems to be in sock with all the crowd around it and the recent experience it has had. Its owners rub it and light a fire near by to pacify and warm it. They are engulfed in a circle of light, from someone's torch.

In the end the lightsabers have won, over the darkness. People armed only with their torches and muscles, without any external help have managed to rescue a cow and the family that depends on it. Lack of electricity has not been an impediment to these people. They know very well how to work without electricity. We had studied about adaptation, I see it in these people.

We are heading back, our torches now directed away from the spot of action. Everyone is heading back. Darkness again engulfs the spot. I hope the cow will be ok this time...

the curious case of vegetable vendors

2012-08-06T02:10:00.001-07:00

Please click on any photograph for slideshow

This story is set in a small but bustling town of Bihar. Its a story of a certain set of informals (informal citizens), people who dont own land, have no address, pay no taxes and contribute nothing to the physical infrastructure of the town but are critical for its social infrastructure. The vegetable vendors, Raju, Razia, Dulari, Prakash and Santu (from top to bottom). Every evening you can spot them at the same place, same time. They share the profession, the streets and the informality. What they never share is their spot and their lights. While Raju sits on his thela (push cart) under the electricity transformer, ironically in the dark, Razia sets up her shop on the ground, by the road in front of the big watch show room. Strategically placed, she benefits from the shop lights (notice the ice cream trolly near her). Dulari has no such benifits. She sits near the temple, trying to light up her vegetables with some help from her modest dibiya (an oil lamp made by filling a small bottle with kerosene and putting a wick through the cap). Asarfi, Dulari's next door neighbour has some bamboo mesh walls in the name of the shop but what stands by her for light is her trusted dibiya too.

In the big league, Prakash owns something that takes a step further from Raju's darkness and Dulari's dibiya. He owns a petromax, a gas petromax at that. These less ancient lamps have a mantle, to which gas/kerosene is supplied from the cylinder below. It certainly gives better light but turns out to be more expensive than darkness, strategic placement of the shop and dibiya. This takes us to Santu and his prime location with modern lights of electric bulbs. There are others like Santu around him who benefit from this prime spot and its electric lights. Indeed a look at the pictures gives us some idea of the importance of lights for these people. Santu, because of his infrastructure and Razia, due to her strategic placement command more customers. When I clicked this picture, Parkash was walking towards the back side of his thela to pick up his tarazu (balance) as some customers had arrived.

On being asked Raju told me that Santu and the likes were selling vegetables Rs 5 expensive as they had to pay for the generator connections for their electric bulbs. They don't have electricity supply from the government. After all they are informals with no claims over the government infrastructure. However, informally, they claim their spots. Raju said exasperated, "If I take their spot, they will chase me away." A certain form of association seems to be at work here, a association of certain informals claiming a formal spot and the benefits of lights with it. Raju seemed saddened by the lack of light at his spot. His next door neighbour, an old man with a heap of garlics on his thela agreed that light attracts customers. He remarked, "model jug hai na sir" (I think he ment, "its modern era sir"), "If I put a light here, my garlics will shine up to the kali asthan (a Kali temple about 100m away) and people will talk about them. If it shines, it sells".

All of these people are vegetable vendors, all informals, all critical for the town's functioning. They struggle in their own ways to light up as they understand the importance of lights for their business, as do their customers. Can these informals, providing critical services to the town be provided with formal lights by the government? I am not so sure about that. It is especially tricky in a town where even formal citizens don't get enough electricity for light, a town wich virtually runs on diesel generators.