Wednesday, May 18, 2016

The average happiness created by the dams of the world is zero: They are extinction breeders.Replace them with forests.



The Truth of Mahatma Gandhi’s warning is being played out: Given enough time modern civilization will destroy itself.
Modern civilization is a ruthless suicidal monster.  Let us take a look at the latest press release by NBA:
Shocking Indifference to the Plight of Project Affected Persons in Narmada Valley

The fight for justice shall continue, asserts NBA

Badwani / New Delhi, May 8,2016: The recent High Level meeting in Delhi chaired by the Prime Minister’s Pirncipal Secretary Nripendra Mishra and attended by the Chief Secretaries of Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh and Maharashtra on the 6th of this month regarding the Sardar Sarovar Project, reveals the deep sense of apathy and indifference of the current Central and respective State governments to the plight of the thousands of Project Affected Persons in the Narmada valley.

It is understood that the respective State governments of Maharashtra and Madhya Pradesh have been directed to expedite Resettlement and Rehabilitation (R&R) process while the Gujarat government undoubtedly seeks a much needed boost in terms of favourable public opinion before the Assembly Elections in 2017. The Gujarat government is particularly under severe pressure owing to the negative publicity due to the Patidar agitation in the state. The state’s oft repeated claim that the completion of the dam would immensely increase the irrigation potential of the State remains a palpable lie to this day; a fact vindicated by the still dry regions of Kutch and Saurashtra.

Narmada Bachao Andolan has consistently reiterated that this alleged “irrigation benefit” has been directed only towards industries in the state. It appears that this trend is set to continue under the current neo-liberal regime characteristic of the infallible belief in ‘growth without limits’.

The respective state governments have repeatedly and falsely claimed complete rehabilitation of the Projected Affected Persons despite multiple evidences put forward by the Andolan, which has often been validated by the ongoing proceedings infront of GRA or numbers unearthed by Jha Commsssion. The struggle has been fought tooth and nail on the legal fronts as well; only to see the judiciary blinded by its own scaffold; often ignoring or underestimating violence perpetrated by the State and Central Governments.

When there are not less than 40,000 families in Madhya Pradesh who are to face the watery grave this Monsoon, then what can one counter the Chief Secretary of the state with who reports compliance and merely demands 350 crore rupeers for rehabilitation? They choose to ignore their own commissions, tribunals and other authorities reports or ground realities, as they exist today.

In the recent meeting, The Gujarat Chief Secretary is reported to have claimed that “Maharashtra has only around 300 families to be resettled while MP needs to settle more – around 1200 families”; numbers which we insist are nowhere even close to the actual figures. For instance, in Maharashtra alone, there are about 791 declared families; a figure which was arrived at following jointly prepared report after a thorough check up of all documents in the Collectors office by both, activists from the NBA and the Collectors’ men over few months in 2015. This figure does not include the 300-400 yet to be declared PAF’s who are currently at the mercy of seeking their declaration by the Grievance Redressal Authority (GRA) chaired by a retired High Court judge, in the state.

The State’s brute force and its unyielding arrogance asserts itself blatantly, particularly so under the current Central Governement’s disposition. This ego driven project is nothing but a facade to cover decades of ‘destruction’ in the name of ‘development’ placing a veil over the inhuman treatment meted out to the people affected by this project!

Such a falsehood, unprecedented in history, needs to be countered not before the Courts of justice but in people’s court in which about 40,000 families, communities within the submergence area need support of all those who are courageous to challenge the present paradigm of development.

Devram Kanera, Kamla Yadav, Gokhru Bhilala, Kailash Awasya, Bhagirath Dhangar, Mohan Patidar, Kailash Yadav, Mudubhai Machhwara, Devisingh Tomar, Yogini Khanolkar, Noorji Vasave, Chetan Salve, Jiku Tadvi, Pemal Behan, Ramesh Prajapati, Sanovar B Mansoori, Lokesh Patidar, Shyama Behan, Rahul Yadav, Mukesh Bhagoriya, Khema Bhilala, Medha Patkar

Contact Nos. 09179617513, 9826811982


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National Alliance of People’s Movements
National Office : 6/6, Jangpura B, Mathura Road, New Delhi 110014
Phone : 011 24374535 Mobile : 09818905316
Web : 
www.napm-india.org | napmindia@gmail.com
Twitter : @napmindia


This is a recent press release of the NBA (8 May 2016).
This shows the abject failure of the parliamentary democratic process in modern civilization, a society of specialists, in informing and safely meeting needs of society. The policy making people have shown themselves to be bad in thought, word and deed when they try to satisfy the average happiness of society, that is generically having inhuman criminal lacunae in the process of governance in modern civilization which however is destroying itself exponentially with time. This is illustrated well in part by Vishwas Patil in a 1992 Marathi novel of fiction, Jhadajhadti translated poignantly into English by Keerti Ramachandra (2014): a dirge for the dammed, hachetteindia and partly by my work on modern civilization and its implications(1a):
First I must state that the world’s dams are collectively and  simultaneously destroying modern civilization (mc), by acting destructively on mc’s parts and the whole by applying huge surges of millions of terawatts to hundreds of thousands of terawatts for milliseconds to seconds at the locations causing the catastrophes(1).  Thus meeting water needs by dams is a flawed approach resulting in direct heating up of the earth with consequent repetitive earthquakes, landslides, cyclones, cloudbursts, flash floods, droughts and climate change because of the persistence of effects in every hydrological cycle, year after year, an useless action to meet the goal. The dams are slaves of gravity and are dead contraptions and cannot lift the waters against gravity. In contrast stand living beings, the forests which lift groundwaters by the giant sucking action of the sun, performing at one go, several functions- through the atmospheric distribution network of the trees in proportion to the density of vegetation conveying water forward by alternating transpiration and precipitation(2).   One of the biggest criminal acts of the dams of the world is a pogrom to wipe out all life, acting as a giant extinction breeder. This was glaringly brought out by the Fukushima catastrophe, on March 11 2011 and ongoing. The nearby Fukushima great earthquake of 9 MM moment magnitude was caused by the world’s dams. This caused all cooling pipes of the Fukushima reactors to be damaged and unusable to cool the reactors and hence the cores, three of them melted, with explosions. The melted cores went into the groundwaters at Fukushima Daichi and are untraceable (3). One scenario of the deadly extinction breeding genocidal consequence: killing all babies born in India from 2028 onwards, every year thereafter (4). This thus shows that the dam has no utilitarian value, under no circumstances does it give even average happiness to the region which was to meet its water needs by the dam.
Now on with the revelations in the fictional narrative the consequences of the dam on the people of the area.
1. Rehabilitation was held up in the case of Kusharaja, after a dam came up across a river Vaghjai. He states that the dam ruined him.  Why so when the policy makers are sure to have achieved average happiness of the people benefitting from the dam? His experience is proof of the destruction wrought on life by mc. The same or similar experience is in the Narmada Valley for decades(See release above). On a large piece of cloth spread out in front of Kusharaja, were stacked “all sorts of official documents, registers, notices, like a pile of bhakris to take to the fields- evidence of the number of times and the many places where the matter of his rehabilitation had been held up.”
“Kusharaja had been requesting, pleading, cajoling, demanding to be rehabilitated for the last ten years.”
“But who listened? Who cared? You are not eligible for it they said.”
2. The officialese: Land for land for the rehabilitated so that the displaced have a standard of life equal to or better than before the dam!
3. But just look at Kusharaja’s experience with free democratic parliamentary system of India and her States
“The rules do not apply to you.”
I am really struck by the plight of the displaced and the heartlessness of the officials.
”Then who were the rules for, if not for the people?
The very fact that a displaced is asking this question shows the complete failure of the democratic process in the country.
“Why must I suffer this plight- which is worse than that of the monkeys?”
See in this connection Annu Jalais: Dwelling on Morichjhanpi: When Tigers Became ‘Citizens’, Refugees ‘Tiger-Food’: Economic and Political Weekly, April 23, 2005:p 1757:
Refugees reveal their resentment about the unequal distribution of resources between them and the Royal Bengal tigers of the Sundarbans reserve forest.
4.Pen(!) picture of the dam ruined Kusharaja:
4.1 The heartless wildebeest take ages to rehabilitate and avoid it.
My native village Masanmal, has gone. Only Manjula and Sayari, Imali and Chabili and I are left to haunt the forest by the river’s edge. Marauding hyenas maul the sheep in the pen. Every now and then prowling bears attack our home. The torrential rains of Ashadh batter us mercilessly, there is darkness at noon, water all round. And now Sayari’s wedding!  I feel like taking my girls and jumping into the lake. Ba, sarkara, you have been promising rehabilitation since this child was a girl. Now she is of marriageable age. When are you going to find the muhurta, the auspicious moment to solve my problem?
4.2 Kusharaja was close to sixty and the spirit had gone out of him. The dam had ruined him. As master of a hundred acres or more, his was the largest holding in the village.
Of this, forty fertile acres on the forest floor was gone! Note that the forest floor is the most productive part of any valley. The remaining sixty were on the mountain slopes. The soil washed off with the rains every year. The government had acquired his lands eleven years ago and what had it given in exchange? Forget the officialise mentioned above- a World Bank’s empty rhetoric, he was given a paltry sixty thousand rupees. … which vanished quickly without Kusharaja even being able to fathom how. The rest of his property exceeded the ceiling of sixteen acres and so he was not eligible for rehabilitation, he was told. To what end this sacrifice of Kusharaja when even for people to benefit from the project, the average happiness was a big zero?
Slowly Kusharaja had cleared some patches of flat land and sown groundnuts, and nachani. But just when the crop came to hand, wild boars pillaged the fields. This should have been, according to the officialese, enough grounds to rehabilitate the family so that the average happiness became better. But no. They would put impediments after impediments to Kusharaja so much so that it was becoming very very difficult to raise even the funds to marry his Siyari with dignity. To what idiotic heartless heights can governance go to in free India, all with the utterly useless action that the dam represents to meet water needs as my research indicates above and as ground realities are showing up inexorably everyday about the destructiveness of the world’s dams(Floods in Chennai and forests blazing off in Uttarkhand(May 18 2016).
4.3 Kusharaja’s Daughter forbidden to love because of the crimes of the stupid modern civilization.
4.3.1“For how much longer will I have to live like this, fluttering in the wind, drenching in the rain, living fearfully with the beasts in the forests? Free me from this prison, bring me among my people, re sarkara!”
4.3.2 The trials and tribulations of the displaced at the hands of the suicidal modern civilization had taken a toll on Kuasharaja’s majestic bearing in the past decade. What was the use of proclaiming his allegiance to Malharji? “How does the fact that my ancestors planted their flag on the southern fort, help me? Because of my sheep I manage to survive.” Gone was the fine terylene shirt and the pleated dhotar. Gone was the thick silver kada on the left wrist. The double-barelled rifle, the ultimate status symbol which my Ajja had got from a British sahib. It went for a throwaway price. One of a pair of muskets was sold last year for Manjula’s treatment when she slipped and fell on the mountain path (Compare the cashless Health Insurance of many a lazy lubber in the cities).
4.4 When everything went ticketiboo, Kusharaja’s original plan was to go to the new settlement and build a house first, and then get Sayari married. The officialese ran that all ousted must be rehabilitated before dam building commences. What criminal governance about all dams of the world which have no utility as my findings show! How tragically irreversible is ignorant action. Action that eliminates life. The Gita says: The offering in return which causes the genesis and support of beings is called Karma. And here we have the dams creating Fukushima, the breeder of extinction, the killer of all Indian babes by 2028 and every year thereafter. Mahatma Gandhi said of modern civilization in 1908: Given enough time modern civilization will destroy itself. Where were you rulers? You foolish rulers, life is not due to your generosity. You dare not forbid love by poisoning the earth.
4.5 How modern civilization came in the way of happiness for the displaced.
4.5.1 Siyari married?
But this business of rehabilitation, like a recalcitrant cow would not move. How many times can one twist its tail. The girl is not growing younger. Once this burden is dumped in its rightful place, my worries will end. Right now though, because of Malharji’s blessings, a good proposal has come for Siyari. Only, where am I going to find the money for the wedding ceremony? You foolish rulers, see what you are doing to those you stupidly displaced on the false idea of average happiness betterment where it is generically flawed? None will be happy because of the self-destructive nature of mc with dams, nuclear power and so on basing development on conventional growth of poisons, generating no jobs.
4.6 Look at the idiocy of the heartlessness of the officials.
Could Kusharaja be considered a special case? With such a life that Kusharaja was leading, compared to the so called beneficiaries, immediately Kusharaja’s rehabilitation must have been effected. Instead see the crime at work:
Kushapa lives in the middle of the forest, the yellow paper stated, but he can be considered a special case as otherwise he cannot be rehabilitated according to the requirements of the law. They had assured him several times. Who knows how many applications were made. Through his relative in Jejuri, he had even met the rehabilitation minister in Pune. The man had signed the application and sent it back to the district officer!
4.7. Thirty-six kilometres trudge to the Jambhli Colony Post Office, every fortnight for four months, Ripe Jackfruit, Fresh Groundnuts carrots for the letter trace!
Everyone told him that once it had the minister’s signature on it, the paper would move very fast. Now comes the Himalayan hitch: The village post office was submerged, and the nearest one was at the Jambhli Colony. Could the letter be lying there, waiting to be picked up? Look at the idiocy of the process tolerated by the free India’s ministers and collectors and others regarding the important aspect of a new home for the displaced: Once a fortnight, Kusharaja would walk thirty-six kilometres along the mountain ridge to the colony. Ask every employee at the Post Office whether there was a letter for him. Sometimes he carried an almost ripe jackfruit for them or distributed fresh groundnuts if it were the season. ‘if the letter comes, send for me,’ he begged them.
4.8 Four months wait and then visit to DRO.
After four months of waiting, he went straight to the DRO’s office in Ambepur. For two days he tried to find the letter. On the second day, Patravali sahib found it in one of the files. He read it. He asked the DRO to please it put up with his note saying it will be approved immediately. The DRO sent the letter to the Deputy Engineer with the instructions, “Personal inspection of the site may be undertaken. If his case is not covered by the law, some suggestions about how he may be rehabilitated may be made.”  The file landed on the Deputy Engineer’s table. Then began K’s trips to find out when the inspection would take place. ‘When will you come, sayeb. To see my humble dwelling?’ Kushapa pestered Nimbalkar sahib.
4.9 After a decade of waiting for rehab, the Deputy Engineer’s Inspection of Kusharaja’s dwelling
4.9.1 But the sabeb was not free. And then the rains started. Nimbalkar’s two line letter absolves himself of responsibility: ‘It is impossible to reach the site owing to the rains. After the monsoon, a detailed inspection report will be sent.’
 4.9.2 Heroic perusal in the drenching rains by Kusharaja with Mantralaya
The Ashadh rains soaked Kushapa to the bone. He was all alone in the middle of the forest. He would write letter after letter to the Mantralaya in Mumbai and ask one of the Kathodi boys to post it.  It cost him one measure of nachani. After the barrage of letters, the officials in the Ministry woke up. The Under Secretary wrote to the District Officer, ‘Now that the rains have stopped you are requested to obtain the report from the concerned officer and forward it to the Ministry.’ It was duly stamped and despatched to the Deputy Engineer.
4.9.3 Finally Nimbalkar visits Kushapa’s house.
4.9.3.1 How to get to his home? The Milk Cooperative’s leaky launch was not plying. Was sahib to walk ten kos(30 kilometers)? Look at the enterprise of Kushapa:
He ran around and got a horse from a kinsman at Jamgoan.  The poor creature walked all day with the sahib on its back. What kind of freedom and governance is this? At last the dilapidated wada came into view. The inspection was completed. That night Kushapa slaughtered four happy chickens for the sahib and his entourage. And served it with mahua liquor. The next day the party returned to the colony and promised to submit the report immediately. Kushapa’s visits to the office were filled with hope. The report was half completed when Nimbalkar received his promotion. Eventually, the felicitation ceremonies and the farewell parties came to an end. Fed up of seeing Kushapa’s face every day, the OS put up the report to the new official, Gore sahib. As he read it, Gore flared up. ‘Wait OS. You want me to sign such an important matter in a hurry? Don’t you know that the problems of the oustees are tricky things? I don’t want to get into trouble later on.’
‘Nimbalkar sahib has personally examined the situation, sir,’
4.10 Gore does a NImbalkar. So Kushapa has to be Transport Officer for a second time. The outright massacre of democracy by the Satraps.
‘No, no I must see it for myself,’ Gore interrupted the OS. Once more the Kushapa’s trips to and fro for the loan of the horse to fix the date of the saheb’s visit began. In spite of verifying it all, Gore’s hand trembled as he put his signature on the report. Is it not astounding, fellow citizens, that Kushapa had to act as Transport Officer for the Government?  What a ruthless monster this modern civilization and those adhering to it still are- the government officials. After all the dam- a useless entity- was thrust down the throat of the citizens by an overbearing average happiness mongers- a set of people ignorant of the consequences of the monsters.  What next?
4.11 The Report goes to the Mantralaya and the shocking reply: absolute ivory tower behaviour.
When the letter reached the DRO, Patravali sahib was plagued by Kushapa and he was glad to forward it to the District Collector. From there it made its way to the Secretariat in Mumbai. Can you believe it? For a full half year no response! Not even an acknowledgment of receipt. The Centre must overhaul the system and requires a lot of whipping up disciplinary rules and strict implementation.  For people good in thought, word and deed it would be smooth sailing. For how many years we have been administering such issues? Right from Viswesvaraiya’s days- 1900s! It makes for an infuriating experience, this sloth and slumber-this mindset.
4.12 So what did Kushapa do in the meanwhile? Again Kushapa began to rain letters of appeal. He met Amdar Bhau Anna Salunkhe. A copy of the report was received from the Collector’s office. ‘As a special case, rehabilitation may be considered,’ was the recommendation. Note that this recommendation was after detailed inspection of the local circumstances- the midst of the forest and of course the carelessness of the officials in leaving him out of rehab by making rules but no exceptions after all these decades of dams in free India. Now see the ivory tower response a la officialese:
4.13 After a couple of weeks, a letter from the concerned department was received. ‘When the whole village was evacuated and rehabilitated, it is highly unlikely that one individual was ignored, therefore there should be no difficulty in acquiring the house and property of Shri Kushapa Bangar, of Masanmal village, Talukha Vaghethana, and giving compensation. So the question of this being a special case doesn’t arise.’ Average happiness of the utilitarian cost benefit idiocy of self-destruction.
4.14 Poor Kushapa is expected to be an expert in sacrificing his life and the family’s welfare, he must suffer in the midst of the forest because rehabilitation rules were framed to crucify him at the altar of the dam for the sake of average happiness. All this for what purpose? The suicidal self-destruction of modern civilization at the altar of its false foundations.
4.14.1 The reader must be getting annoyed at this juncture at this repeated assertion about the false foundations on which modern civilization (mc) is founded.
4.14.2 There is false knowledge: To see the separate existences apart and seeing them apart to hold that to be true. This is the false edifice of mc. The dams are separate and do not interact or act in a combined manner to wreak havoc.
4.14.3 The truth: The dams are slaves of gravity and store water behind them. The sum of all the masses behind all the reservoirs exert their weight on the earth at their centre of gravity. When water demands change from time to time throughout the world, these TOTAL dam content CHANGES at any instant cause giant surge waves from instant to instant to be exerted through the centre of gravity at all points of the earth, in many instances causing irreparable irreversible damage to infrastructure. This is the way dams are constantly at the centre of modern civilization’s destruction.
4.14.4 What then is nature’s answer to this? Nature harmonises the seemingly separate existences within nature into communities in such a way as to respect true knowledge: To see one changeless life in all the lives, in the separate the one inseparable: The principle of perfect reproducible design via non-clonal reproduction.
4.15 We must go through the whole narration regarding Kushapa to see the reality of Narmada Valley and others seeing the universal corruption that has infiltrated into the awful system.
4.16 That day when Kushapa was grazing his sheep in the valley, he met a man from Irlewadi who had just returned from the DRO office. Look at the fortuitous nature  of the encounter!
We city folk must appreciate the stony wall in front of honourable dignified citizen Shri Kusharaja alone in the midst of the forest- tiger territory- as so painfully accurately caught in the fictional narrative by Vishwas Patil and caught in English by Keerti Ramachandra:
He came up to Kusharaja and said, ‘Raje, some communication has come to you from Mumbai.’  Kushapa hastily drove his flock (visualise the flock on a road- it takes a multilog to make the sheep to hasten!) into Bhingar Thakar’s care and rushed off to the colony. He took the bus to Ambepur. He encountered Patravali saheb’s creased brow. Annoyed Patravali: ‘Kushapa, the auspicious moment for the sorting out your problems has not yet arrived. Why are you pestering us when you know the matter is not going to be resolved?’
‘Saheb, it is becoming impossible to live in that forest (Almost the Jungle experience? before the Jungle Book?) all by myself. Set me free from there, sahib,’ he pleaded.
Now look at the immaturity of governance which took up such a seemingly lofty goal of bettering the average happiness of society:
Patravali reread the letter. In sheer frustration he snapped, ‘Because your case did not fall within the law, we sent it up for consideration as a special case. Now those worthies up there say his question of special case does not arise. Kushapa, it is your fate that is flawed, so who can do anything about it? Go consult the panchanga . Your stars seem to be against you.’
4.17 Note that we are in a star spangled society. Look at what Kusharaja answered and did:
‘You are right, saheb.’
The foray into astrology at Shrirang, the brahmin’s house at the colony lasted for 4 Mondays and more than half of all the sacred ash collected went into the sack in which all the rehab letters were kept! On this one issue depended the life and future of his family. Whenever he returned from Vaghethana or Ambepur, Manjula and Sayari would run out to ask him. Manjula was worried. This matter seemed to be jinxed. She approached Bibbawya Kathodi for his advice on how the gods could be appeased. She kept aside two brown feathered chickens to sacrifice once the matter was resolved.
4.18 The Jungle Book experience in the meanwhile continued. He heard about the bear attack on Farshya Kathodi in Jhanjadwadi across the water. Bears had trespassed into Redakhind as well and mauled two men, leaving them half dead. One night, a large speckled snake slipped into his house through the broken down back wall and curled up on Manjula’s mattress. Luckily they saw it and Kushapa smashed its head. But ever since Manjula and her daughters were terrified. Once it became dark, they saw black spots everywhere. Fear dripped through the house. It had to end, this life of fear, loneliness and confinement. Kushapa’s bones had begun to creak and rattle with the effort of all the running around from office to office. But he had to find a solution. He could’nt give up.
4.19 The steely resolve of Kushapa to be rehabilitated cannot sufficiently be applauded.  He continued. He had to see for himself how the process of rehab was evolving as he continued to pursue the issue. His will, being a man good in thought , word and deed was infinite. Kushapa made Bhau Anna Salunkhe accompany him to the District Collector’s Office many times.
4.20 Again the Collector sent his case up with a recommendation.
He explained clearly the difficulties Kushapa was facing and clarified why his situation was unusual. It was necessary to consider this as a special case, and therefore immediate sanction from the higher authorities was awaited. Kushapa even went to Mumbai two or three times. After eight months(!) the letter was returned with more queries:
A. How much distance is there between water level and Bangar’s house?
B. All told how much land has to be acquired?
Transport(!): Because Kushapa’s luck was good, the milk launch resumed operation. Otherwise how could he have escorted saheb all the way? The horse he had borrowed had been sold six months ago. Gore sahib finally measured the distance and the papers went, rung by rung, up to the belly of ministerial correspondence.
 4.21 After several months(!) an arm-long note was received. This time they had really worked hard to raise fresh queries:
1. Is it possible to rehabilitate Kushapa Bangar as per existing policy and directives?
2. What is distance between the proposed site of relocation, namely Kelapur, and the present residence of   Shri Bangar?
3. In what year was Shri Bangar’s house constructed? Is there an entry to that effect in the records of the Gram Panchayat? What is the registration number of the house and the exact area it covers?
4. Please include the map of Masanmal village along with the above information.
4.22 It is clear that the authorities who sent this note were novices in the rehab process and there was no thorough census of the people who would be rehabilitated and was evolving as the Kushapa rehab case progressed for years. This should have been done unambiguously before the project commenced. Because of the decades of criminal harassment to which the displaced/would be displaced are put through. What heartlessness of the authorities- visible even in the Narmada Valley.
4.23 Kushapa was outraged when he heard these questions: To Gunvanta he said: ‘Are these queries or nooses?’, but they had to be answered. The DROs office divided these issues into two sections. 
Measuring the distance was a technical matter and so they sent it off to the Irrigation Department. As for the others, the village and the Gram Panchayat Office was submerged eight, may nine years ago. Had the land records been preserved?(!). If so, where were they kept? Who would know? Phone call after phone call was made. But no information was available. Administratively, the Gram Panchayat was under the jurisdiction of the Zilla Parishad. So it would be best to put the responsibility of locating the registration papers on the Zilla Parishad. Now Kushapa was to include that office in his beat. There too he got the same loving response. ‘What  registration? In whose name? Masanmal Gram Panchayat? Does it still exist? Have you forgotten that it went under water? Why did you think of your papers now? Where were you these last ten years? Where should we start looking for them at this stage? Do you think we have nothing else to do? Do you really need the Registration Certificate? Tell them it can’t be found. If they want they can sanction your rehabilitation even without this document. Why don’t you meet the collector? Go up to the higher authorities?’
4.24 Now take stock of this governance, where the right hand of the government does not know what the left hand does and both know nothing about rehabilitation taking note of the local circumstances:
Kushapa was sick of dealing with these questions, this attitude! Deva Malhari Bappa, why did you take it into your head to get this dam built? Each time it’s a new piece of paper, another query and a different head. Whatever these fellows want to ask, why don’t they do it at one time – even if they want me to find out the distance between heaven and hell. Or tell me categorically that it cannot be done. I have been selling my sheep to pay for my fare. How long can I keep it up? How many chappals should I wear out, how many thresholds should I cross? Malhari, how many more tears shall I shed? Come down from your fort and accompany me. Your legs will ache so much you won’t be able to climb back to your seat, I am telling you.
4.25 The fact is rehabilitation still after decades is fiction in the Narmada valley for 40000 families, hundreds are waiting eligibility to be called oustees/displaced for rehabilitation.  So the fiction narrative about Kushapa is a ground reality.
To continue with the fiction of rehab for Kushapa…
5.00 Kushapa laments: Everything else changes. New queries each time, officers getting transferred, governments changing, but Kushapa’s is unsolved rehab remains. Gradually he lost faith in everything, forest, wind mankind. My sheep and I, that’s all that matters. If one day the tiger tears me apart, let him. Death. What else is there besides? But Siyar’s marriage? If I have to sell the skin off my back, I will, to see it through. She must not suffer. I gave her life, now I will give her a bashing, and shrug the yoke off my neck.
5.01 With rehabilitation not in sight Kushapa instead found a groom for Siyari but the dowry was huge. So he went in search of money. He tried Mahua liquor making but was caught by the police. He killed a tiger in the forest, skinned it and tried to sell the pricey skin to a smuggler who blackmailed. He ran for his life. The locals not connected with the oustees usurped the land meant for the displaced by hook or by crook. Honest Collectors were transferred at minister’s behest so the oustees were swindled.
Here is a set of Haikus as part of this review : The Oustee and the Tiger:

Vishwas Patil, Keerti Ramachandra.2014. a dirge for the dammed. Hachette India. Part 5. Chapter 8. Pp 331-341.

Review via Haikus.
R. Ashok Kumar
© 2016 Ramaswami Ashok Kumar

Sahyadris forests
Kusharaja strode the slopes
To kill a tiger!

Daughter Siyari
Funds for dignified marriage
Sell the tiger’s skin!

Twisted roots, feet tripped!
Tangled in swinging creepers
Insect bites thorns scratched!

He marched undaunted!
There’s money in hunting the cat!
Must find the tiger.

To Biruba’s shrine
Perched on a peak Sahyadris
Kanguni taka!

Kanguni taka
Water hole of the forests
Quenched thirst of the beasts!


They came before dawn
Kusharaja fondly hoped
To find his prize there.

Help me Biruba!
Pray come to my help Deva
Fuss not like the groom’s!

Eastern sky still grey
He reached Kanguni taka
Spread out ghongadi

Spread out ghongadi
In clearing among bushes
Breathing not, waited

Ears twitched like rabbit’s
His left hand gripped the sickle
Catapult at feet!

Every now and then
His hopeful eyes turned skyward
But red the sky glowed!

But red the sky glowed
So his hopes began to fade
Dear beasts where are you?

Then two bears ambled
Along to the water’s edge
Stood still for moment

Stood still for moment
Nostrils flared for danger’s scent
Gulped liters water

Thirst quenched trundled off
The forest became alive
Chatterings and chirps

He stretched his cramped limbs
And took a walk to the lake
Splashed cool jal on face

Drank a few handfuls
Then bent down to examine
Spoors on muddy shore

He saw no pug marks
He went further up along lake
Along water’s edge

Again no pug marks
All he unearthed: Four quail eggs
Gathered fresh cow dung

Covered eggs with dung
Put dung balls into a fire
Flinted pile dry twigs

When the eggs were cooked
Washed off the dung and devoured
The eggs hungrily.

He drank more water
He was ready to set off
Once more on cat hunt

He wandered up down
The densely covered hill slope
Chatted with cowherds

Honey gatherers
Discreet he broached the subject
Hear lots tigers here?

Surprised they ask him
What? Why do you want to know?
My prized buffalo…

Tiger king jungle’s
This is his territory
But in Redakhind

But in Redakhind
There are lots of tigers
He fled Biruba’s

Walked to setting sun
Feet were covered with red dust
Legs tired from walking.

Spikes of grass pricking
Piercing tightly wrapped dhoti
And hurting his thighs.

Exasperated
Untied dhoti made turban
Kneelong underwear

Full skirted pairan
Covering upper body
Tramped through the forest.

During the whole day
Traversed four hamlets asking
For tiger’s whereabouts!

Sun went behind mounts
Turning them orange and gold
Tired he staggered on.

Suddenly he spots:
Jackal emerging from bush
Waved its graceful tail

It disappeared
Behind a rock: Good omen!
Kusharaja smiled.

Hope came back to him
Ran fast, stopped behind boulder
How long aimless search?

So many streams watched
How many questions to ask?
Searched gullies galore!


Beside a boulder
At last he stopped, sack on ground
Sat down beside it.

Trees threw long shadows.
One more night was approaching
Still no trace tiger’s.

But he couldn’t give up
He looked worried as he glanced
Irlewadi flashed!

He laughed out loud: Fool!
Right there and couldn’t see it?
Goats killed by tiger

Goats killed by tiger
All tigers must be in there!
What wasted time here.

Now walk back six kos
Downhill, swim across river
Climb up Balu’s slope

Search for tiger there
By then it will be pitch dark
Broke into a run

As he would get lost
In ear high elephant grass
He was quite obsessed.

Petrifying roar
From a half turned golden head
Piercing yellow eyes

Rich copper stripes flecked
With gold, image haunted him
Magnificent skin!

Skin sold, marriage made!
Tender lantana for food
Chomping like a goat

His legs were leaden
Refusing to hold him up!
But he dragged them on.

Late into the night
He reached the banks of Vaghjai
Gunny sack round head

Gunny sack round head
Jumped into freezing river
Reached Irlewadi!

Fires burned at each door
To keep bears and hyenas out
Reached wadi, dogs barked.

With spear Kathodi came out
Kushappa identified
Raje! At this time?

He shot out quickly:
Prized buffalo is missing
They both had dinner!

Wild rabbit being cooked
They exchanged local gossip
Deftly steered by him.

Buffalo to cat
From tiger to tiger-skin
To Pune dealer

Bheemya’s tongue loosened
Mahua juice all consumed
These days big demand

These days big demand
For tiger-skins, hunters come
Skins over mountains

To Mumbai direct
Smuggling route from Nizampur
Know Pune dealers?

Could do the wedding
In Pune, cheaper to shop
It was nearer too.

Pune difficult
Police are very alert
Caught? You are inside.

Still. Name the dealers.
There is a man, Ismail Seth
Makes shoes and chappals.

Place: Dane Galli
His shop is off that galli
Near big peepul tree

Two storied building
With a red light on its top.
Careful getting there.

But once you’re there
The deal is made quickly and fast.
Bheemya sold couple?

Feasted on rabbit!
Fire, mahua juice lulled Bheemya
Into deep slumber.

But Kusharaja?
He was awake and worried.
Days were ticking by

Two days out of ten
Were gone before the marriage.
Wait getting longer.

If he had sold off
Some sheep, money would be there
For making laddus…

For the wedding feast
For haldi ceremony
No clothes yet purchased.

Material on time?
Tailor would have stitched on time
The bridegroom’s costumes.

Stop worrying man!
Tailor’s night shift costs double.
That’s all: Find tiger.

Sleep stole into him
Like a bear delicately
Burrowing anthill

He had tramped the woods
All day and night, grew weary.
Soon he was snoring.

Bheemya awakened
Exclaimed: Raje, you seem tired.
Then went back to sleep.

The wood became ash
Embers cooled, the morning breeze
Became cool, stinging.

Kusharaja stirred
He saw the pink eastern sky
Sat up, wide awake.

Was this the Death’s sleep?
Quickly picked up his bundle
Ran away from sun

Bheemya mentioned stream
Near Manjri Moka, cat there?
At dawn it would come.

Who knows he could have
Come and gone by now: Tiger!
Till noon he waited!

At the stream he hid
But it did not reward him
For his patient wait.

His mind in turmoil
Did not know which way to go
Cat in Redakhind?

The forest was dense
The tiger had to be there
He began to run.

Scrubland, Redakhind!
The sun was on its way west
When he reached scrub.

Every muscle stretched
Every nerve and sinew taut
But stop he could not.

Reservoir tip dam’s
To his right; beyond summit:
Balu’s Peak, his goal.

He began the climb
On wobbly unsteady legs
Stop: At water holes

Stop at water hole
Looking for tiger pug marks
Plenty water still

Water in woods still
So animals don’t go down
To the river’s edge

Spotted porcupine
Vanished into undergrowth
Another day gone!

Third day also gone
Kusharaja got anxious
Just seven days left.

He expressed his thoughts:
How to face my child’s in-laws?
Suppose they back track?

Will my Siyari
Lose a good match? Not easy
Not easy to find another!

People will talk ill
The girl’s character must be…
Biruba! Ruin!

With each passing day
He had one emotion-fear
Did not see pug marks.

Had to find tiger
Fear turned to desperation
Went beserk fourth day

Was tiger pending
Like rehabilitation
Plans of government?

To his crazed reason
Forest was an enemy
Rustling leaves mocking

Lashed at the tree trunks
Proxy for officials
Futile were four days.

Exhausted filthy
His loin cloth chafing his thighs
Body itched with grime

Oblivious he
To all this; rushed into caves
Scrabbled in holes: Oh!

What if a tiger
Was holed up in a burrow
Of a porcupine?

Porcupine burrows
Are really large inside
Tiger hiding there?

Made fire with green leaves
At the mouth: Cave filled with smoke
Suffocates, comes out.

But all that emerged
Was a hissing snake; he lost
Control over self.

He began to run
Like someone possessed shouting
Tiger! Tiger! Till

He reached the end
The other end of the woods
Redakhind forest!

On the sandy bank
Of stream on upper reaches
He spotted pug marks

Hope flowed through his veins
Confidence replacing fear
Fatigue and despair.

No doubt tiger’s here!
Began to track it in bush
Thicket, hole, burrow.

The excitement
Saw him through the afternoon.
Evening breeze set in.

Another day’s end!
Biruba! What should I do?
Five days to wedding!

Folks at home nervous
Biruba: Are you father
Or arch enemy?

A sudden movement
In the lantana bushes
A huge hermit crab!

Its smooth dark back gleamed
As it scuttled on dry leaves
Empty stomach growled!

The crab sensed danger
And raised its claws
Grabbed it from the side

With one quick twist broke
He the crab’s razor sharp claws
Ripped open belly

The soft white belly
Devoured raw flesh greedily
His eyes then strayed north

Towards forest’s edge
And rested on gurgling jal
Of a shallow stream.

On one side of it
A thick tangle of bushes
Hid enormous rocks

Carelessly lying
On the other: small clearing
With one banyan tree

Behind the banyan
Rose a steep rock face beside.
He made for the stream.

He bent down to wash
His blood stained hands: Saw pug marks
Near feet on damp mud!

Heart thuds, eyes glinting
Kushappa surveyed the scene
He’s here, somewhere here!

Pugs led to banyan.
The ground fell in a sheer drop
At some fifty yards.

Siyari’s wedding
Daughter’s future was at stake
To save her honour

Prepared to put hand
Into tiger’s mouth and count
Its teeth: With five day’s penance

He could not afford
To lose the animal now!
He took out weapons

He took out weapons
From sack: sickle, short blade knife
And thick coir rope.

He tested the sickle’s blade
And made a noose of the rope
Lassos pouncing cat!

Ghongadi’s one end tied round
His head, drew the rest of it
Around himself and

With the smaller rope
Fastened it firmly around
Waist. The thick coarse wool

Would protect from claws
Tucked the sickle to his waist
Coiled the rope round neck

Like Lord Shankar’s snake
Stashed away the gunny sack
In fork of branches

With the polished knife
Gripped tightly in his right hand
Waited, eyes staring

At the mouth of cave
Let him come out the bastard
And I will get him.

Sun descended fast
Tension was ebbing out quick
Began to lose heart

Tiger may escape
Under cover of darkness
I will not allow

Wedding preps halted?
Tearful mother and daughter
Anxiously waiting

No further waiting!
Left the safety of his perch
Quickly made a pile

Of twigs. Leaves and grass
At the entrance of the cave
And struck a flint: Fire!

Clambered into tree
The smoke filled the cave
Roar after roar heard!

Intolerable!
The tiger just bounded out
And stopped, bewildered.

How can tiger flee?
Between steep ravine, steep rock?
Only to banyan.

Mad with fear tiger
Lowered its head, roared loudly
Through cavernous jaws

Kusharaja froze!
The tiger! What he wanted
Yet he could not act!

The cat had smelt man
Another ear splitting roar
He attacked the tree

Kushapa inched up
Suddenly he got courage
With a rush of blood

Prospect of a fight!
He uncoiled the rope from neck
Readied to throw noose

Blind to foaming mouth
Murderous teeth, deadly claws
Just long sleek body

Rippling strength tiger’s
He could not believe his luck
Eighteen k not less!

Wedding will take place
A provoked tiger will not
 Withdraw from fight

Lumged at Kushapa
But fell just short of the top
The topmost branch

Hastily threw rope.
He missed. The tiger had smelt
Was after his blood.

Circled banyan tree
Jabbing at it, clawing trunk
To get at its prey

From his perch teased it.
Incensed cat paced up and down
Tired itself snarling.

Fear: May lose the prize!
He threw the rope round its neck
Leg was caught in noose.

Noose would not tighten
Had strung rope on branch above
Tried to draw it up

The tiger struggled.
Dug claws to ground and pulled back
Tightening not good

Profusely sweated.
Dusk had been replaced by night
They were still battling.

The tiger was trapped
Flung sickle at cat’s belly
Fool! What have I done?

If its hide is ripped
You may lose five six thousands!
He will bar no holds.

Like giant squirrel
He made a great flying leap
Cried: Jai Biruba!

But missed tiger’s back
And slid to the ground
But grabbed lasso rope

And tugged at it hard
Enraged tiger lunged at him
Free claw mauling him.

Deep gash on ribcage
Delivered by cat’s free claw
Ghongadi saves him.

Panting and heaving
Kushapa clung to the rope
Tiger’s roars fiercer!

Suddenly rope snapped
From the branch it was tied to
The tiger almost fled!

But he had held on
Fought like Bheem, Jarasandha
At last man prevailed.

He pulled the rope hard
And grounded the tiger down
Then mounted the beast!

The cat was not cowed.
Tiger bucked and knocked him off.
One last time he tugged.

Cat tried trampling him
His fate line was strong and turned
To rein in the cat.

The tiger struggled
And strained to free itself off
Flopped out going limp.

The rope did the trick!
He kicked and stamped the body.
Husking bajri’s ears?

When he realised
It was all over, collapsed
Beside his trophy.

Lungs felt they would burst
Chest rattled gasping for breath
And his throat was parched.

He lay there listening:
Leaves rustling deafening sounds
In the black darkness.

Soon there was cool breeze
Revived Kushala’s spirits
Get up Kushapa

Vanquished the tiger
Performed a great feat, finish
The rest of mission.

He then ran his hand
Over his forehead, felt blood!
Brought back his senses.

Kushapa shivered
His whole body was on fire!
Specially left side.

Where flesh chunk gouged out
Spasms of life-sucking pain
Shooting through the wound

He almost gave up
But a voice within him told
Are you not alive?

See dangers ahead
Sayari’s wedding held up
On account of you

He groaned and stood up
Hoisted tiger on his back
Pulled the beast’s front legs

Pulled the beast’s front legs
Over his shoulders and held
Them against his chest

Dragged the warm body
Towards stream at hill’s bottom
Laid the tiger down

Started skinning it
It was laborious task
But couldn’t hurry.

Damaged skin: Price nil
By the time job was finished
Two hours and half passed.

Good work done, he smiled.
Lovingly stroked velvet coat
Biruba’s reward!

The skin should be rinsed
Rinse in running jal, shake it
Of all water first.

Then spread out the skin
On the grassy bank, tired out
He sank beside it.

Except for him and
The cat’s dismembered carcass
Forest was soulless!

Eyed mound of cat’s flesh
Lying on sand: He shuddered                                     -
It must be buried

Before forest guards
Find the flesh, he must get rid
The forest of it.

He strained and got up.
With sickle he dug large pit
Its sounds: Prison bells!

By the break of dawn
All evidence was concealed
Very carefully!

Dipped skin in water
Cleaned it; stuffed it in the gunny sack
Balanced on his head

Over the mountains
Catch the launch by the Vaghjai
En-route to Pune.

Catch first launch to be
In Pune that very day
And the deal quite soon.

Go to the bazaar
Finish the shopping sooner
Don’t delay good work.

Dawn broke and daylight
Head load was growing heavier
He looked at himself.

He was quite frightened
His entire body was bruised
Face swollen one side

His dhoti pairan
Were bloodstained, sack suspicious
Police would jail him.

Launch operator’s
Shrewd eyes did not miss foul things
Mountain ridge route best.

He retraced his steps.
He staggered with the head load
Steep climb; he breathless.

Legs refused to work
Noonday glare made him dizzy
He walked on in trance

Two men approached him
What friend? Where have you been to?
Ugh! Nothing, nowhere.

Mad bull in forest
Attacked and gored me horrid
I somehow escaped.

Got away this time!
When he did reach the river
He went back to woods.

A new fear nagged him
The skin would start stinking soon!
Looked for babhli tree.

And finally found
He sliced off the bark, crushed it,
Soaked it in water.

Squeezed juice on the skin.
And then smeared it thoroughly.
Stench taken care of!

Noonday heat drowsy
Rested head on soft cat-skin
He dozed off quickly.

Awake with a start
In cold sweat: Stopped at checkpost?
And asked whats in sack?

He must cover it
Fill up the sack with neem leaves
Would camouflage skin

Washed bloodstains off clothes
And while they dried he dozed off
Slanted sun rays glared!

He woke up and said time!
To go to colony, hire
Tempo for Pune!

Eight odd kos more still
Fatigue claimed Kushapa’s frame
Every muscle tired!

Altruistic he
Had to carry on for her:
Protect right to love.

Barefoot staggering
Under the massive headload
He stumbled along.

It was before dawn
Tempo to Pune waiting!
He hopped on and soon

They were at Swargate
On the outskirts of Pune
He took a rickshaw:

To Dana Galli
He remembered to turn left
Then right: Peepul tree

And house with red light.
He entered Ismail Seth’s shop
Came straight to the point.

Spilt my blood for this
Daughter is waiting to wed
To make purchases

Seth called assistant
Smirked asked to take bundle in
And open it out

When he saw the full
Undamaged skin glowing live
Saw gleam in Seth’s eyes

Seth came out smiling
Silent: Hurry, I beg you
But Seth offered tea!

Insisted on tea
Kushapa got impatient
He just blurted out

If eighteen is much
Settle for fourteen or less
But please finish deal

“Police station, yes?”
Is that DSP Saheb?
A dhangar has come

He has killed tiger
And brought its skin
Demands money sir!

Don’t do this to me
Kushapa grabbed the Seth’s feet
Give it back malak

My daughter’s wedding
Mohammad, Vaishya come quick
Grab this fellow and…

Like a hunted cat
Kushapa leapt out of shop
Ran for life through crowd.

Look at the pathos
Father’s altruistic deeds
Failed democracy

Example of man
Not committing khudkushi
But promoting love.

In the midst of crimes
Modern civilization
Corrupt, false, evil.

Trying everything
But rehabilitation
Corrupted to kill.

How insensitive
Against the constitution
Useless actions- dams.

(To be continued)


It is a painful experience, a dirge for the dammed.
The sad swindles are continuing with such projects. See the Namada Valley story above.   And their utility is a big zero. Trees are the solution for the worldwide problem of modern civilization’s designs, which are generically faulty.
But it continues:

The GREAT ASSAM DAMS SWINDLE  

napm india <napmindia@gmail.com>

References.
1a. Ashok Kumar, R. 1986. Modern Civilization and Normal Civilization: The Need for Small Self-Sufficient Communities. GANDHI MARG. Vol. 8. No.2. May 1986. Pp 70-92.
1. Ashok Kumar, R. 2005. predicting earthquakes: The science of dams causing earthquakes and climate change:
2. Ashok Kumar, R. 2015. collaterals of climate change:THINKING OUTSIDE THE BOX: TREES FOR DAMS
3. enenews: Reporter: Many experts now believe Fukushima’s melted fuel burned through the concrete floors and has gone down into the groundwater — “No one yet knows how deeply those 3 cores melted into the ground… No one knows where the cores are” (AUDIO) at
4. Ashok Kumar, R. 2015. Stop nuclear energy programmes PROGRESSIVE DETERIORATION OF THE GENE POOL IN THE NUCLEAR AGE
http://plutoniumaradiumabillionpeoplehitdna.blogspot.in/2016/01/progressive-deterioration-of-gene-pool.html
























































































































































  




















































































































































































  










































               






















































































































































 
 






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