The concern for the loss of diversity in South Asia has led to a new initiative. One that gives a platform for stimulating and presenting photographic and video documentation of people marginalized in India. One point of view is that these people (more generally referred to as ‘tribes’ or ‘adivasis’) chose to live apart in higher or forested landscapes to avoid contact with dominant ways of living around them. Another is that they have been ‘pushed’ to the margins. Today, many of them are completely unable to benefit from the booming economy of present day India.
The website of the Indian Tribal Heritage hosts some of the visual documentation that I have made in northeast and central India
i Click on this button to go to the website of Indian Tribal Heritage
My headscarf by another name is called a ‘chunni’. And this broek I call a ‘gharaara’ with a lange aaaa. They are both made of the flimsiest of cotton and fall in folds. The gharaara, from my large hips amply spreading around the clogs my feet are in. Big flowers in blues, yellows and greens spread themselves over an orange background. I wear it with a kurta, a loose tunic that the traders from Delhi sell in the market nearby. The tunics are quite popular with a certain section of the population here. The outfit makes me stand out. To stand out is not good practice in the Netherlands is it? As the saying here goes, ‘you are odd enough when you are ordinary’. Is that why the wasps found me?
The little radio on top of my refrigerator announced this morning that what we are experiencing is ‘tropical heat’. There’s a storm brewing. An unruly, wanton wind threatens to lift up my short dress to dangerous levels. Bicycling as best as I can, I try to hold it down with one hand. There’s a man walking his dog that takes a look at me, makes a loud remark and laughs. But the wind has picked it up and flung it in a direction that I am not cycling in.
If February thinks its job is to test my relationship with my beloved city, summer confirms our courtship. Short, but sweet enough.
The other day I was in a chat room with some people who I have never met. I typed, ‘its sunny and warm in Amsterdam’. Someone replied immediately, ‘ Oh so you are in the great city’. I asked, ‘and where are you?’ ‘Calcutta’, showed up on my screen. ‘Also a great city’, I typed. ‘Yes and similar’, is what appeared in a jiffy. Then we had to get down to the business of the day. So I never got around to asking him what he meant by ‘similar’.
To capture a man, then immediately marry him, you need a chicken
It is a truth (not widely accepted) that to capture a man, then immediately marry him, you need a chicken.
But not because the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.
The Garo Hills. An extension of the eastern Himalayas. When the cotton is in full bloom, it is the season for man capture. Men from one village capture men from another for marriage to their unmarried sisters, cousins and nieces. If a man accepts the marriage, he moves into the village of his wife and shares her property.
And if he doesn’t?
Ratmi, a young, single mother wants to get married. The film follows the process of capturing a man for her as it observes the players behind Ratmi’s marriage in 2000/2001 and again in 2006.As we follow Ratmi’s story, some questions emerge for us. What doesIndia look like as it is in some types of unseen fringes, where power shifts back and forth from individual to group, man to woman, the person behind the camera and the people in front of it? This film about the India that we don’t see, reverses some of the dominant images we see all the time about caste, gender and difference.
Produced by Chitra Katha Productions
Directed by Nandini Bedi
Distributed within South Asia by Under Construction, Delhi (UCL Films)