Kashmir: Partition Trilogy #3 - A Framework For Understanding Kashmir

[First published in YouthKiAwaaz]

Kashmir is the third and last book in Manreet Sodhi Someshwar’s Partition Trilogy, which explores the events, exigencies and decisions that led to Independence, Partition and the Accession of States, which eventually led to the borders of India and Pakistan being what they now are.

Like Lahore and Hyderabad, the first two books of the Partition Trilogy, Kashmir too is a historical fiction told at two levels- the high-level political negotiations between the people whom history books talk about, and the stories of the common people who were being pulled apart by forces beyond their control.

Most people who have grown up in Independent India have only a vague understanding of what is often called the Kashmir issue. We know that the cartographic boundary of Kashmir differs based on whether the map was drawn in India or Pakistan. We know that the Army has been deployed in Kashmir for most of our lifetime and that the area has enjoyed only brief periods of peace. We know that Kashmir enjoyed “special status” till the abrogation of Article 370 in 2019. However, most of us are unaware of the history of Kashmir, and of the conflicting interests which ensued that the issue never achieved a peaceful solution. This book goes a long way in addressing those gaps.

Almost all the historical figures who were involved in the process of decision-making appear as characters in the book. Through her study of archival material the author has recreated decisive moments of history and presented them as fictionalised scenes. Lord Mountbatten, Jawaharlal Nehru, Sardar Patel, Sheikh Abdullah and Maharaja Hari Singh all flit through the pages of the book, and literally bring history alive. The invasion by the Kabailis and the battles fought by the Indian Army to defend their land and reclaim lost territory are faithfully rendered.

But what makes the book come alive are the common people. The husband who forces himself on his second wife every night in the hope of impregnating her. The husband who builds a floating vegetable garden and plants rose bushes on it for his wife. The man who ‘marries’ the woman he abducted and tries to kidnap her from the house where she is given shelter. The man who lost his beloved to mob violence and tries to atone by providing a safe haven for other abducted women. There are conversations between two brothers, one of whom supports the National Conference and the other the Muslim Conference. There is an entire family struggling in different ways to cope with the grief of losing a loved one. It is through each of these characters that the book comes alive, because they are the ones who face the consequences of decisions made in cities far away.

History has never been kind to women- they are either erased completely from the pages of history books or they are reduced to victims. Books set during the Partition, in particular, focus on how rape was used as a weapon of war and of how women protected family honour by sacrificing themselves.

Kashmir: Partition Trilogy #3, however, is full of stories of women who are recipients of or witness to senseless violence, but who rise above it to leave a mark.

No history of Kashmir can be written without mentioning the Sher e Kashmir, Sheikh Abdullah, but this book notes the contribution of his wife, Begum Akbar Jahan, who, when her husband was jailed, left the seclusion of her home to tour the villages, keeping hope alive in the hearts of the Kashmiri people.

Less well known than Begum Akbar Jahan but pivotal to the book are the composite characters Zooni, Durga Mehra, Kashmira and Margot Parr. Durga Mehra witnessed the murder of her husband at the hands of the Kabailis but kept her family together till she was able to find safe passage back to her homeland. Both in the refugee camp and after her reunification with her family, she, like countless other women before her, applied her empathy and her considerable organization skills to the welfare of other women who were left destitute because of events beyond anyone’s control. Kashmira’s husband was killed “by mistake”- one of several similar mistakes that the Indian Army would make in the coming decades- but even while giving in to grief, she never lost sight of her need to pull herself together for the sake of her family. The state of Kashmir, in particular, is populated by countless women like her, and through her, the author honours each of them.

Zooni, the activist and sharpshooter, is based on a real woman who was the poster child of the Kashmiri resistance. Though not much is known about the woman who inspired the character, Zooni rises over personal tragedy, exchanges her slingshot for a rifle and offers her services to the Indian Army. Her courage, resilience and abiding concern for the welfare of her family is symbolic of the moral force displayed by countless women of Kashmir.

Perhaps my favourite character was that of the US journalist Margot Parr. She faces misogyny in her profession but doesn’t let that come in the way of chasing a story. She smokes, drinks and has a relationship with a considerably older man. When asked for her personal opinion by a politician, she was quick to retort, “My personal opinion is nobody’s business; you’ll agree. But my professional opinion is a work in progress: the more I learn, the better informed I am.” However, despite the professionalism, she develops a deep emotional bond with the family whose houseboat she lives in and goes beyond the line of duty to keep them financially, emotionally and physically secure.

Comparisons with the previous books, Lahore and Hyderabad, are inevitable. Though the storyline of Kashmir concludes a few months before that of Hyderabad, it is fitting that it should be the third book in the Trilogy because the history of Kashmir remains inconclusive. While both the Partition of Punjab and the Annexation of Hyderabad extracted a heavy price, the long-term repercussions are largely personal. The political drama ended once the borders were fixed, and what remained was a generation of people who were left to deal with the trauma they experienced and the almost paralysing ‘what ifs’. Kashmir, on the other hand, remains as much of a contentious issue as it was in 1947–48, and the social, political and personal repercussions of the political deliberations and strategic manoeuvres of 1947–48 continue to be felt even today. Reading Kashmir gives us the framework to understand the Kashmir problem; for that reason alone, I would recommend the book to anyone interested in learning more.

I would recommend reading it as a part of the Partition Trilogy. Many of the historical characters were developed in the earlier books, and Kashmir merely builds upon them. Some of the ‘common people’ from earlier books, too, make a reappearance in Kashmir and knowing the back story will help in better understanding what drives them in this book.

Kashmir would shine as a stand-alone book, too. It is a tight page-turner that takes us through the political decisions made in Delhi, Lahore, New York, Srinagar, and Jammu, and the ramifications of those decisions on common people. It explains why the ‘Kashmir issue’ is as complicated as it is and how there can be no easy solutions to it. Above all, it is the story of human resilience and love, even in the midst of gruesome violence, which shines through is hope, empathy and courage.

Kashmir: The Partition Trilogy III is published by Harper Collins. I thank the publisher for an Advanced Review Copy, but the views are my own. 

‘H-Pop’: A Must-Read Dive Into The Secretive World Of Hindutva Pop Stars

[First published in YouthKiAwaaz] 

In April 2017, a Ram Navami procession snaked its way through the lanes of a small town in Jharkhand where Hindus and Muslims had existed in peaceful coexistence for decades. As the procession approached the main mosque where eminent Muslims of the town were waiting to receive them with sweets and good wishes, the music changed, and with it the mood of the people. The peaceful procession suddenly became a mob chanting Hindutva slogans in a way which was deliberately provocative to Muslims. The police swung into action turned off the music and prevented the situation from taking an ugly turn. Later that evening, however, some people returning home from the procession caught a Muslim man speaking to a Hindu woman and assaulted him. Later that night, the man died.

Two years after the incident took place, the author, Kunal Purohit, set out to interview eyewitnesses to find a clue to why the incident took place in a place which had earlier known communal harmony. He was struck when one eyewitness recounted that the mood of the people suddenly changed when the music changed. How could one song who’s lyrics were barely audible over the beat exert such a sway over the audience? Who were these Hindutva pop stars who were fomenting such divisiveness and hate? Were they acting in isolation or were they a part of a larger movement that was creating societal acceptance of the core beliefs of Hindutava? The author had to find out, and from these thoughts, ‘H=Pop: The Secret World of Hindutva Pop Stars’ was born.

“Can a song trigger a murder?
Can a poem spark a riot?
Can a book divide a people?”

These are some of the questions that the author sets out to answer through this book. He looks at three ways in which the Hindutva message is spread- music, poetry and publishing, and in each of these, he profiles one person who is immensely popular and effective in the genre. The book is based on ground research spread over four years during which time the author spent countless hours interviewing and interacting with not just the three people profiled, but also their family and close associates. He attended their programmes and spoke to them about their early childhood, their journey to fame, and their frustrations and aspirations. By choosing to profile one person in each genre, the author is able to convey a lot more than he would have had he chosen to write about each of the movements in general.

Everything written about in the book is set against the socio-political background of the country. The book is sprinkled with references to almost all the important events of the previous 4 years- the Pulwana attack, the 2019 General Elections, the Abrogation of Section 370, the anti-CAA-NRC protests that swept the country, Shaheen Bagh, the Lockdown, the Farmer Protests, the second wave of COVID and the UP elections. Each of these affected the people profiled in significant ways- either by providing material for their art or in more personal ways.

Each of the people profiled is fascinating in different ways, and though they all fall under the large Hindutva ideology, each of them is driven by different objectives and has different aspirations. Though this is the main source of livelihood for each of them, money and fame is not the only thing that drives them- they want something more, something intangible.

Kavi Singh

Kavi Singh is one of only two female singers in the macho, masculine world of Hindutva pop music. Her appeal lies in the fact that she has a quick turnaround time and is fast to react to current events, and she unambiguously directs her listeners to react in a certain way. The lyrics to her songs are direct and warn of an Islamic takeover of the country-

“Kuch logo ki toh saazish hai,
Hum bacche khub banayenge.
Jab snakhya hui humse szaada,
Fir apni baat manayenge.

(Some people are conspiring,
That we will produce many children
When their numbers go past ours
They will make us dance to their tune.)

Songs like these have little basis in reality, because the fertility rate of Muslims is going down, and unless Hindus stop reproducing completely, Muslims will never become the majority in the country. However, songs like these are widely popular and their target audience is swayed by rhetoric and doesn’t demand facts.

Despite her fame, Kavi’s own life is full of contradictions. Though she dresses in gender-agnostic outfits and has cultivated a male swagger, she is still a victim of patriarchy. Her career and image are carefully controlled by her adoptive father, and she is almost ostracised by her family when she chooses to display sexual agency. While Kavi Singh has achieved fame, she wants more- she wants to be recognised as someone who guides her listeners about the (imagined) danger that Muslims present to her idea of a Hindu state.

Kamal Agney

Kamal Agney is a Hindi poet whose poetry ‘revolves almost exclusively around the cause of Hindutva. His poetry furthers Hindutva in innumerable ways: he will find ways to emphasize some of the core elements of the ideology, he will clearly delineate the ‘enemies’ of Hindus, he will stroke anger and hate towards them, dehumanise them using his rhetoric and won’t shy away from creating new foes.’ He does this by creating false binaries, by asking provocative questions and by re-writing historical events and figures by giving them a religious spin. One of his poems, for instance, goes-

“Jinnah ko mila Pak, Nehru ko Hind,
Koi toh bataiye Chandrashekhar ko kya mila.

(Jinnah got Pakistan and Nehru India
Someone tell me, what did Chandrashekhar get?)

Through this poem, he implies that both Jinnah and Nehru were beneficiaries of Partition, even though it is well documented that Nehru opposed Partition till it was clear that it was inevitable. Timelines are also deliberately messed up by bringing up the name of a revolutionary who was martyred in 1931, well before the demand for Pakistan gained momentum.

It is interesting that the poet did not vote for the BJP in the first election where he was eligible to vote, but gradually came into the Hindutva fold and became one of its most vociferous champions. What is also interesting is that he is no longer content with just moulding public opinion; he wants to be able to wield political power and is disheartened that the Chief Minister he campaigned for hasn’t rewarded him sufficiently.

Sandeep Deo

Former journalist turned author Sandeep Deo wears many hats in his quest to advance the Hindutva ideology. He runs a popular YouTube news channel, has his own publishing house and is growing his e-commerce website to distribute Hindutva books and other religious items. He is also a spiritual guide and gives advice to parents and children on how to live their lives the Hindu way.

Deo has studied the Hindu scriptures extensively, and he wants to reestablish an Akhand Hindu Rashtra. Interestingly, he often criticises the BJP government when he feels they are not taking a firm enough stand in stamping out elements which Deo believes are against Hindus and Hindutva.

Unlike most people with strong Right Wing leanings, he does not shy away from criticising the Prime Minister, and in his news shows, he often comes across as anti-establishment. “Every Ram needs Vasishtha. Every Chandragupta Maurya needs a Chankay”, he says. Clearly, he sees himself as a kingmaker who can take down the established king if he strays from the path that Deo believes is the right one.

Through these three portraits, the author brings to life the world of Hindutva Pop, which is growing and thriving away from the gaze of the mainstream urban media. The author also puts these developments in the context of similar movements internationally, which polarised people and eventually resulted in documented violence against communities.

What makes the book exceptional is the fact that though it is meticulously researched and presented, the author leaves his personal opinions out of the narrative. While it is clear that he is disturbed by the objective and impact of H-Pop, he merely presents facts and leaves it to the reader to form their own opinions. The book is a masterclass in journalism because the author continues to maintain his objectivity throughout the book; something that is often missing in what passes for journalism these days.

This book, as summarised in the blurb, presents “the frightening face of new India- one that is united by hate, divided by art.” I would urge anyone who wants to understand what is happening in the country better to read this book.

The book has been published by Harper Collins India. I received an advance review copy, but the views are my own.

Why Women Celebrating Karva Chaut should not be shamed

 [Shaming women who observe Karva Chauth does not serve any purpose because all it does is make people defensive and defensive people tend to dig further into their own beliefs. First published in Women’s Web]

I knew Karva Chauth was around the corner when my social media feed started filling up with photographs of mehendied hands, and I braced myself for the sappy posts and the acrimonious debates that I knew would follow. I was not disappointed.

Every year, I find a vast majority of my female friends to be firmly on one or the other side of the Karva Chauth debate. There are friends who undertake the fast, dress up for the evening puja and post photographs on social media. And there are friends who write long, fiery posts denouncing the custom as patriarchal and anachronistic. Both these groups of women often end up clashing on social media, and there seems to be little common ground between them.

And every year, I end up reflecting on what my stand is. This year was no different.

Is Karva Chauth inherently patriarchal?
Of course it is. It is a fast undertaken by women for the well being and long life of their husbands. Tradition does not require the man to undertake a similar fast for the well being of their wives, so it is certainly one sided.

A few younger couples, inspired no doubt by Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, both keep the Karva Chauth fast, but that doesn’t change the fact that the genesis and intent of the festival is patriarchal. There are women who say that Karva Chauth is really a celebration of sisterhood, that it is a day when women get to dress up and pamper themselves, but when the purpose of the festival is to celebrate gender imbalance, that cannot be used to absolve the festival from being labelled “patriarchal”.

Should women be dissuaded from celebrating Karva Chauth?
This is a harder question to answer. Karva Chauth, as is much else, is a matter of personal faith. A woman who has grown up seeing the women of her family celebrating Karva Chauth is conditioned into believing that this is something that women do for the welfare of their husbands. For them, keeping the fast is akin to paying an insurance premium, and they are willing to do that for the sake of their husbands.

Personally, I do not think we have the right to force them to change their belief, especially since their actions are not causing direct harm to anyone else.

Should women be shamed for celebrating Karva Chauth?
Certainly not. Many women who consistently and vociferously speak up for women’s rights, have been called “false feminists” and have been shamed for observing the Karva Chaut fast. This in my opinion, this goes against the spirit of feminism. Like it or not, we have grown up in a patriarchal world, and have been conditioned to think and act in ways which go against true gender equity.

Most of our religious rituals (by our, I mean Hindu, but it is applicable to most religions) are intrinsically patriarchal. Across cultures and religions, women are “given away” in marriage. Hindu women are dissuaded from performing funeral rites. Women house owners have spoken of how difficult it is to find a priest even to perform a housewarming puja in the absence of a male partner.

As feminists, each of us, in our own way and at our own pace, challenge these age old beliefs and seek to change ourselves and those around us. There is no such thing as a “perfect feminist”; each of us is an “evolving feminist”. Shaming women who observe Karva Chauth does not serve any purpose because all it does is make people defensive and defensive people tend to dig further into their own beliefs.

Is it Ok that Karva Chauth discriminates between women?
There is however, one aspect of Karva Chaut which most people who observe it do not consider- Karva Chauth is not inclusive. Only married women are allowed to observe Karva Chaut. A woman who might have been keeping the fast and performing the puja for decades is prevented from observing the festival when she loses her husband.

If indeed, as some say, it is a celebration of sisterhood, does a woman cease being a ‘sister’ when she loses her husband?

In order to prove that the festival is not patriarchal, some women claim that the fast is for the entire family, not just for the women- if that is the case, does the family cease to exist when the husband passes away?

It’s the same issue for all Indian festivals!
Karva Chauth is not, of course, the only festival which is not inclusive. In fact, most Hindu festivals discriminate against women who have lost their husbands. But this is one aspect of the festival which the women who observe it should think about- do they want to be a part of something that is blatantly discriminates. Yes, as feminists, we believe in the right of women to choose. But inclusion is as important as individual choice, and the festival fails on that count.

At one time, in Bengal, only married women were permitted to participate in Sindoor Khela, where Goddess Durga is fed sweets and pampered on the last day of Durga Puja before being symbolically sent back to her father’s home. The ritual has now evolved to include not just unmarried women and divorcees, but also widows and transgender women. Today, Sindoor Khela is genuinely a celebration of Sisterhood, even though it too is rooted in the patriarchal tradition of sending the woman back to her marital home. If one festival could evolve, there is no reason why others should not, as long as those celebrating them are mindful.

Suhana Khan Was Supporting Re-Use Of Bridal & Party Wear, Not Being A ‘Clueless Star Kid’!

 [First published in Women’s Web]

Suhana Khan, in a recent interview, praised Alia Bhatt for wearing her wedding saree when she went to receive the National Awards, and went on to add, “as somebody with a platform, who has an influence, I thought that was incredible and a much-needed message. She took a stand towards sustainability. If Alia Bhatt can re-wear her wedding saree then we can also repeat an outfit for a party. We don’t need to buy a new outfit.”

Suhana Khan is being heavily trolled for her statement, with some of the less nasty comments being:

its so funny when rich people start doing things the rest of us have been doing forever and start thinking they’re being ecofriendly and sustainable.

Alia Bhatt wearing her dress twice is a symbol of sustainability and she is an inspiration for doing so, say the star kids! 

Many people mentioned that they wear the same pair of jeans for an entire week, or that they are still wearing the kurti they bought while in college. However, what all these people choose to ignore is the fact that Suhana Khan was not talking about everyday wear. She was making a very valid point about the clothes that the bridal party purchases for weddings.

How many times have you worn your wedding saree or lehenga?
My grandmother draped her 9-yards wedding saree to lit the lamps on Kartikai Deepam every year. The women of my mother in law’s family would drape their wedding chunnis over their head while sitting down to perform a havan. The bride reused all the outfits she wore at her wedding- often, they were the only “good” clothes she possessed.

Things, however, are no longer the same now. Today’s brides wear extremely expensive outfits for each of the wedding functions, and few (if any) of them are re-worn. One reason for this is a very practical one- today’s bridal outfits are far more elaborate than the ones worn traditionally which consequentially makes them less versatile than the ones worn by earlier generations. But the other reason, and perhaps more important reason, is that it is considered infra dig to repeat wedding outfits at other events, and people hesitate to do so because they know that they will get caught out because of the digital footprint.

It is against this background that one should look at Suhana Khan’s statement that “if Alia Bhatt can re-wear her wedding saree then we can also repeat an outfit for a party. We don’t need to buy a new outfit.” She was talking specifically about high end outfits, not about the jeans and kurtis which we wear daily. Far from being the “spoilt star kid” which people insinuated she was, Suhana Khan was in fact using her name and privilege to make a very valid point about sustainability.

Suhana Khan batted for the environment
”We don’t realise but making new garments creates waste which impacts our biodiversity and environment” she said.

While the statement may sound a little vague and contrived, Suhana Khan was drawing attention to a very important issue- that while we tend to picture huge smokestacks belching black smoke into the air when we think of polluting industries, the fashion industry is equally environmentally destructive.

Let us examine the environmental footprint of fashion
Fashion production is responsible for 8 to 10% of global emissions which is more than all international flights and maritime shipping combined. The industry consumes over 93 billion cubit meters of water every year, which is enough to meet the needs of 5 million people. More than 20% of industrial water pollution originates from the fashion industry.

The social cost of the fashion industry is equally high. The industry employs women and children in developing countries at lower than minimum wages and forces them to work long hours in appalling conditions. Some of the chemicals used in production also raise health concerns both for producers and consumers.

What makes the environmental and social cost of fashion production worse is the fact that 85% of the textiles produced lands up in landfills every year, thereby creating the problem of waste disposal.

The only way to counter this is to embrace sustainable fashion
Today, one in six social media influencers proudly proclaim they never wear the same outfit again. This puts tremendous pressure on regular people to buy more clothes than they need. Each tee shirt, for instance requires 2,700 litres of water for production, which is roughly equivalent to amount of water 3 people would drink in an entire year. While the people who trolled Suhana Khan might wear the same pair of jeans for 5 years, I wonder how many of them think of the environmental cost while mindlessly purchasing yet another tee shirt?

It is essential that we reduce the number of garments we purchase, and that we wear the garments that we already possess as many times as possible. This can be done by buying, wherever possible, good quality and classic outfits that will last for several years. Borrowing and exchanging clothes was extremely common in the past, and enables you to get more wear out of the same number of clothes. Thrifting and hiring are becoming popular in niche circles of people who make the effort to exert sustainable choices.

This requires a change in mindset
All of this, however, requires a change in mindset from excessive consumerism to more responsible shopping. When celebrities and influencers are seen and photographed wearing the same outfit more than once, it can lead to a change in mindset. By wearing her wedding saree at an extremely prestigious professional event, Alia Bhatt sent out the message to brides that they could and should look at whether their bridal outfit could be worn even after the wedding.

Instead of calling out Suhana Khan for speaking about Alia Bhatt re-wearing her bridal outfit, we should appreciate her effort to normalise and popularise sustainable fashion.

'One Small Voice': Read This Book To Understand The Reality Of India Today

 [First published in YouthKiAwaaz]

One Small Voice is the debut novel of Santanu Bhattacharya. The ‘one small voice’ is the voice of Shubankar “Shabby” Trivedi, who grew up in a typical upper caste, (self-defined) middle-class household in a small town in northern India. In the newly liberalising India, the greatest aspiration of his parents was to ensure that he had an English medium school education, studied engineering and got a well-paying job which would enable him to purchase a larger than the one his neighbours’ children drove.

His rather uneventful life was disrupted when communal violence swept through northern India in 1992, and he became the sole witness to a brutal lynching. He scanned the newspapers for many days hoping to find the name of the victim, but he soon realised that in times like that, the media reported stories of “deaths, not of the dead”.

For a quarter of a century after witnessing that incident, he would continue to try and seek the name of the victim, whose name he remembered started with the letter M. What shook him up most was the conspiracy of silence adopted by those who knew the victim- they chose to defame the victim by describing him as a “kaamchor” who probably went back to his village, only to avoid having to confront the brutal truth of his passing.

Though, on the surface, Shubankar appeared no different from hundreds of thousands of adolescents like him, this incident changed his worldview completely. He could not find common ground with his family, which, instead of condemning the lynching, chose to justify it. This led him to drift apart from his family and create an independent life for himself in Mumbai. This estrangement also led to small but significant acts of rebellion, like the time when he took a flat on rent in his name because the landlord was not willing to have a Muslim tenant.

Shubankar would still have remained a slightly stereotypical man if not for an accident that left him physically crippled, battling PTSD and questioning every aspect of his existence. The story is told in three timelines- the schoolboy Shubankar, who is a prisoner of the middle-class aspirations of his parents; the Shabby, who has broken free from his cloistered existence and is exploring Mumbai physically, sexually and emotionally; and the post-accident Shabby who is dragging out an existence while trying to decide whether to try and put himself together again.

The narrative shifts seamlessly between the various timelines, with each chapter gently pushing the story forward. The accident is alluded to throughout the book, and by the time we see details of it, it is almost anticlimactic and opens up far more questions than can ever be answered.

What are the schisms that hold the country together? What causes people to turn on those who have selflessly helped them in the past? How are some friendships sustained while others drift apart? What compels people to forgive those who they have grievously hurt?

One Small Voice is not just the coming-of-age story of Shubank Trivedi. It is also the story of India from the newly liberalised economy of the 1990s to a society where a new class attains affluence, creating more divisions between those who have access to air-conditioned malls and those who do not. It is the story of an India where people gradually stop trying to hide their communalism and where even affluence doesn’t necessarily protect you from becoming a victim of politically sanctioned mob violence.

The book tackles many issues that are of relevance today. The invisible labour of women, the pressure on high school students to get admission into professional courses, the increased indoctrination of young people, differential expectations on men and women, growing cynicism and changing definitions of morality. What could have become a tedious social commentary is avoided because of the well-developed character of the protagonists. Each of the characters has hidden facets, and they never fail to surprise us when they react in ways different from how we expect them to behave.

The story spans a quarter of a century- a tumultuous period where the country is repeatedly rocked by mass violence. However, regardless of the magnitude of violence unleashed, it is possible for people to remain only vaguely aware of it or to completely forget about it if they were not directly affected. However, the patterns of violence repeat and will continue to do so till the cycle of violence is broken. Through the stories of the remarkable set of characters, the author shows how the country is fractured along the lines of class, caste, religion, gender and language and how the gap between the powerful and the oppressed in each of these intersections keeps widening. The book starts with fire and ends with fire; the past, the present and the future are all intertwined and will continue to be.

Yet, the book ends with hope. The hope that sanity and peace will prevail; that silent masses will finally realise, as Shubankar’s parents do, that the idea of “oneness” which has been sold to them is actually divisive.

“What matters in the history of time is not the story that dazzles today, but the one that sparkles with so much honesty it survives. Even if it is old by only one small voice.”

This book is that “one small voice” which will endure. Read it to understand the reality of India today.

[The book is published by Penguin Fig Tree. I got a review copy from the publisher, but the views are my own.]

Book Review: ‘Climate Capitalism’ Offers The Optimism We Need In These Times

 [Written for YouthKiAwaaz]

The AQI in Delhi has been hovering between ‘unhealthy’ and ‘hazardous’ for nearly a week. Schools have shifted to the online mode, there are restrictions on outdoor activities, hospitals are reporting a sharp uptick in the number of patients with respiratory-related ailments and newsrooms are running programmes on what can be done to tackle air pollution.

When you witness the same story repeating itself every year, it is easy to give in the despair. “The Toon Guy”, Rohan Chakravarty, captures this eco-anxiety in his recent cartoon when an environment campaigner mourns- “It’s a lost cause. Nothing makes sense. We are all doomed.”

In such a scenario, Akshat Rathi’s book “Climate Capitalism: Winning the Global Race to Zero Emissions” offers a glimmer of hope. The author takes us on a journey across five continents and profiles unlikely heroes who are driving the fight against climate change.

From the Chinese bureaucrat who did more to make electric cars a reality than Elon Musk to the Danish students who helped to build the world’s longest-operating wind turbine or the American oil executive building the technology that can reverse climate damages, the book introduces us to people who are working in different ways to develop and scale technologies that can bend the carbon emissions curve.

Capitalism brought us to the brink of a catastrophe; capitalism needs to save us from it

It is unfettered Capitalism that has brought the world to the brink of a climate catastrophe. Though it has been obvious for decades that we cannot continue polluting the “commons” of the atmosphere without having to eventually pay an extremely heavy price, we failed to tax polluting industries.

Now, we have a limited time window for deploying solutions to reverse climate change, and that time is certainly not sufficient for overthrowing capitalism and replacing it with a more benign system. If we are to achieve zero net emissions by 2050, it can only be done by reforming capitalism and harnessing the forces of capitalism to tackle the climate problem.

Climate capitalism, the author argues, is about aligning the world with what is considered economic common sense.

The author uses ten case studies from across the world to show how, in the long run, it would be tens of trillions of dollars cheaper to achieve climate goals than to deal with the costs that come from the damage caused by missing them. China is the world leader in the production of both Electric Vehicles (EVs) and the batteries that power these EVs; though the two stories are not directly linked, both were caused by the coming together of favourable government policies, people with an entrepreneurial spirit and the persistence required to develop new technologies.

The success of solar power in India too can be attributed to the coming together of people, policies and technology, and the story of wind power in Denmark shows how government policies can catalyse people and technology to come together to generate clean energy.

In the chapters, “the Fixer”, “the Billionaire” and “the Wrangler”, the author profiles individuals who, in very different ways, contributed to creating an enabling environment for clean technology. These are individuals who influenced government policy, ensured the flow of capital into cutting-edge research and who ensured that the climate agenda figured in top-level discussions.

Perhaps the most inspiring stories are those featuring Vicki Hollub and Paul Polman. Vicki Hollub, the CEO of Occidental Petroleum, flipped the business model of her company from being one that extracts carbon from the ground to one that attempts to capture carbon from the atmosphere and bury it deep underground.

Yes, government policies played a role in making it economically profitable for her to do so. Still, this example shows that carbon capture is something that can be attempted on scale. Paul Polman changed the focus of Unilever to ensure that social responsibility was at the core of all their processes, resulting in the consumer goods company becoming the most sustainable company in the world. These two examples hold out hope that capitalism can align itself with challenging climate goals.

The book is overtly optimistic, but don’t we need optimism?

The book, however, paints an extremely rosy picture. While the ten stories profiled in the book show that a ‘green economy’ is both possible and profitable, what is left unsaid is the fact that this is possible only when multiple factors fall into place at the same time.

Each of the success stories is a result of the combination of favourable government policies which follow a carrot-and-stick approach, financial investment into R&D, technological breakthroughs, people with the foresight and ability to drive new processes, and a market that demands and consumes clean technology. It is unlikely that any of these success stories can be replicated if one or more of these factors are missing.

This book is an antidote for people living from eco-anxiety. It shows us that all is not lost; that if enough individuals demand accountability and climate justice, they can force governments, capitalists, and scientists to come together to start working on their ambitious climate goals. In the words of Bill Gates, who is also featured in the book, “(the book is).. an important read for anyone in need of optimism.”

The book is published by Hachette India. I received a review copy of the book, but the views are my own.

When you win a battle you never expected to win

WE WON!!!

Two simple words. But even 24 hours after the NGT ruled in our favour, the enormity of what we accomplished is yet to sink in.

How can people win against the system?
“We are just a motley group of people. How can we expect to take on the System”, I told a friend in a rare pessimistic mood last year. “Only the Avengers can pull this off; we are not them.”
When we set out to save the Chevella Banyans, we hoped to win, but I doubt if we expected to win.

Everyone makes it a binary between Development and the Environment
Everybody knows that banyans are a keystone species. Nobody denies the economic benefit of having a stretch of massive road lining banyans. Everyone claims to love trees.

BUT, that dreaded word- DEVELOPMENT! We were constantly accused to coming in the way of development.

We have been conditioned into thinking that it is always a battle between the environment and development. People advocating for the environment are branded as being “anti development”. But, it need not be a binary. Both can co-exist. Both must co-exist.

“Road bhi. Jhaad bhi” was always our slogan. Widen the road by all means, but do it so the largest clusters of banyans and some of the last Deccan grasslands are bypassed. But people were unwilling to listen. Sadly our planners first draw a road on paper, then force fit it on the terrain.

When we didn’t make much headway with changing public opinion, we had to go to the Court
Two years back, we took the case to the NGT, but we didn’t have a watertight argument even there. The law doesn’t protect the rights of road lining trees outside forests and reserves. We were fighting on a technicality. But our lawyer had faith in his arguments and we had faith in him.

Gathering the Data
How many banyans were we talking about? NHAI claimed there were only about 700 banyans. We estimated double the number. To resolve the matter, we walked the entire 42 kilometer stretch and counted the banyans on either side of the highway. There were 914 banyans!

While we were at it, we also geotagged each of the banyans, photographed them, and noted down estimated girth, height and other notable features. This database was invaluable. It helped us respond to each of NHAI’s claims with data based arguments.

The dreaded T-word
Then, there were the flagbearers for translocation. People genuinely seemed to belive that you can translocate trees the way you move furniture around your drawing room. We spent an inordinate amount on energy in educating people about what translocation implies, the low success rate, and how massive banyans such as these are unlikely to survive translocation.

Everything was in our favour, but would we win?
We were in a strange position. Everyone accepted the economic value of the banyan trees. Everyone realised that NHAI had made little effort to minimise the environmental disturbance. YET… the contract had been awarded. The trees had been marked and land acquired. Would the NGT rule in our favour?

The day before the judgement, I was asked if we would win. Though cautiously optimistic, I was realistic enough to say, “maybe not. But that we fought so hard with hard facts will make it easier for those who come after us.” The ruling was a validation of all we believe in.

The judgement is a landmark one because it recognises the worth of road linking trees which are outside forests or reserves. It drives a wedge into the current thinking that planting “n” trees compensates for felling one.
We hope that this ruling sets a precedent and is used by others to drive a wedge into the mad expansion of infrastructure without even considering the environmental repercussions of it. We would love nothing more than for others to build on what we achieved.

Book Review: The Centre, Ayesha Manazir Siddiqi

 [First published in YouthKiAwaaz]

It all began with Adam.
Doesn’t it always?
We met at a literary translation studies conference at Senate House, and it was through him that I first learned of the Centre.
Or….no, wait. Actually, pause. Rewind.
I should probably start with why I was at the conference in the first place.”

The first fifty words of Ayesha Manazir Siddiqi’s debut novel, “The Centre”, are clever and clumsy at the same time. Clever because the little wordplay and the introduction of the title of the novel into the text immediately draw you in. Clumsy because the words and style seem almost conversational. Both these descriptive words continue to swivel through the mind while reading the book.

The premise of the book is intriguing. The protagonist, Anisa Ellahi, was 18 when she came over from Pakistan as a student with dreams of achieving fame as the translator of important works of literature. Now, nearly two decades on, she was “living by myself, making mediocre karela cashew stir-fry,….. and pretending to make a living by writing subtitles for Bollywood films.” She meets and starts dating Adam, who has native-level fluency in ten or eleven languages. During the time they are together, she struggles to teach him even a few words of Urdu, but just before they fly to Karachi to meet her parents, she finds that he has acquired the ability to speak Urdu at the same level of fluency as her grandmother in just 2 weeks. Through him, she comes to know of a top-secret and super-exclusive program which promises fluency in just 10 days.

After breaking up with Adam, Anisa signs up to learn German at the Centre. Despite her scepticism, she emerges with absolute fluency in the language and proceeds to translate a slightly obscure German work, which is received with much critical acclaim. Though Anisa should be content with finally achieving all that she has ever dreamt of, she continues to remain unfulfilled. She is plagued with troubling dreams which clearly belong to “the Storyteller” whose narration she heard continuously for 10 days at the Centre. In her discontent, she reaches out to her Supervisor at the Centre and embarks on learning a second language. As she finds out more about how the Centre works, she continues pondering on the ethics of the immersive programme and whether the price extracted is worth it.

The Detailed Characterisation

Though told through her voice, the protagonist is extremely unlikeable. She is self-centred and ensconced within layers of privilege. Though she is a brown girl living in a racist society, Anisa’s class consciousness comes through in most of her interactions, especially in her interaction with her boyfriend. She looks down on her best friend’s boyfriend- though she justifies it by saying that her friend is consciously dumbing herself down to please him, it is clear that she also disapproves of him for who he is. She also, more than once, betrays both confidence and friendships without the slightest remorse.

The only recipient of her unconditional love seems to be Billie, the cat she jointly adopted with her boyfriend. Despite, or perhaps because of, being so unlikeable, Anisa comes across as a well rounded character.

The secondary characters are similarly well etched. Her best friend, Naima, goes through a complex character arc, which is extremely believable. That she is aware of what she is doing and still does it only makes it more poignant. Shiba, the Supervisor at the Centre, was probably my favourite character- independent, intelligent and caring. I wondered what she saw in Anisa that made her trust her so much. Through the characters of Anisa and Shiba, the author also brought home the fact about how quickly people living abroad adjust to a feudal lifestyle when they return home to India/ Pakistan.

Varied Conversations In ‘The Centre’

The book raises very pertinent questions about appropriation and assimilation. Can language be picked up through a brief but intense study, or should it be gradually assimilated through lived experiences? Can a person who achieves fluency in a language without having experienced the language be said to be truly fluent? At what point does assimilation through an immersive experience become cannibalisation?

The author describes how many multilingual people have “these sort of ‘neutral’ accents, the kinds of unplaceable dialects you sometimes find in third-culture kids or global cosmopolitan elites raised in the international schools and gated compounds of Oman or Turkey or Singapore”. She questions if it is a natural outcome of knowing multiple languages or because the speakers consciously or unconsciously strive for “unplaceability”. While the author talks about language and translation, one is reminded of R.F. Kuang’s recent best sellers “Babel” and “Yellowface”, both of which tackle similar issues. Who owns the language? At what point does learning and using a language not your own become colonialism and/ or exploitation? How should one value the contribution of a translator or an editor of a work? These are important questions, and while neither author gives any answers, at least the questions get flagged off.

The book also tackles themes of feminine friendships and relationships. She repeatedly talks about how women in romantic relationships allow their own fire to be dimmed so as not to outshine their heterosexual partners. She speaks of how female friendships are often devalued in a quest for a romantic relationship. Do women really need a heterosexual partner- can’t they survive and flourish even in the absence of romantic relationships as long as they have strong female friendships?

Despite being quite self-centred, Anisa consistently underplays her success and blames herself for every failure. This is a typical feminine trait, and it is often the most competent woman who suffers most from it. It is flagged off and left for the reader to ponder over or not. The other issue that is flagged off is the sexual dynamics at play in professional settings; the author brings up the interplay of consent and power structures and how men walk away from such encounters without having to pay any price.

The book is tightly paced. Though the story is set over several years, the pace lags and speeds up according to the needs of the narrative. Weeks pass by in a single sentence, while time slows down at when she is at the Centre. At a critical point in the narrative, we are presented with two scenarios, either of which might have played out- that we are kept guessing about which of the two scenarios took place in that blimp in time, only reinforces the point that is being made.

I would certainly recommend this book. Though 300 pages long, the pace of the book never flags. Many issues are brought up and left for the reader to resolve on their own. Towards the end of the book, you realise why ‘clumsy’ was a word that first came to mind while describing the book- there is a reason for the narration to be as it is, and it fits totally with the story. At the end of the book, more than one ending is indicated, and the reader is left to write their own. That, perhaps, is the hallmark of an engaging book.

The book is published by Pan Macmillan. I received a review copy, but the views are my own.

Stop Making Irresponsible Statements Glorifying Long Hours Spent At Work!

[First published in Women's Web]

Anjali joined an investment bank after completing her MBA. She was living in a shared flat with two other women. They all worked hard and partied harder. This was the life she had dreamt of since her parents enrolled her in the IIT coaching classes, and she loved it. Two years later, she married her batchmate. They moved into their own 2 BHK, but nothing else changed for them. They had a housekeeper who would come in during the day and a cook who took care of dinner. Saturdays were reserved for grocery shopping and other odd jobs, and they had Sundays to themselves. Anjali never understood why some women complained about work-life balance. As far as she was concerned, women could have it all. Wasn’t she proof of it?

But… can women really have it all?

Once she turned 30, Anjali, who till them had ignored all the aunties who kept asking her when she was going to give “good news” became acutely conscious of the ticking of the bio clock. She worked through the first two trimesters of her pregnancy, and kept working almost till her due date. Once the baby came, she engaged a full-time nanny and focussed on training her so she could get back to work at the end of her maternity leave.

Things went well for during the first week. She gradually eased back into her role. Since she was still breast feeding, she used a breast pump to express milk twice during the work day. She left on time, and managed to beat the traffic and return home in time for the late evening feed.

Her commitment to work questioned, her time and labour taken for granted

But the good times didn’t last.

Soon Anjali started hearing comments like “so you are leaving early today, are you?” and “have you taken a half day today?” when she was logging off after completing all her pending jobs. She held back from reminding them that unlike them, she hadn’t taken multiple coffee breaks- she had just worked more productively than they had, and finished on time.

“Anjali, there is a team meeting scheduled for 7 pm. You will have to stay back for it”, her line manager informed her when she was getting ready to leave. The meeting could have been easily scheduled during working hours, but she couldn’t say much since she was the only one who was affected. Gradually, she saw that the plum assignments were going to other people. Though productivity had never been an issue, the organization had decided that she was less “committed” after she became a mother.

She also realised that in the few months that she had been on maternity leave, the dynamics with her husband had changed. She had taken on more domestic responsibilities since she “was at home”, and he stopped doing some of his jobs because there was “full-time help” at home. Her husband doted on their child, but she was clearly “primary parent”, and that she would be the one who would be expected to prioritise the child over all else. Anjali loved her job and didn’t want to drop out, but she recognised that things were no longer what they were before. Without her intending it to be that way, she would forever be thrown into situations where she would be forced to choose between home and work. Women could not have it all!

We all know the Anjalis in our lives

If Anjali’s story sounds familiar, it is because each of us know several Anjalis. It is extremely hard for employees to find a work-life balance in organizations which place a disproportionate emphasis on “commitment” defined in terms of the number of hours spent at the workplace. This affects all employees, but takes a greater toll on women since society expects women to bear the primary responsibility for housekeeping, childrearing and caregiving.

In general, when men return home after a 12 or 14 hour workday (including commuting time), they can expect to have a warm dinner waiting for them; women would have to cook/ heat the dinner, feed the kids, supervise homework and plan for the next day before eating. Is it any wonder that women consciously or unconsciously slow down their careers because they cannot do it all?

Women drop off the workforce as they go up in seniority

A few years back, I had analysed the gender data for my team. We had nearly 50% representation of women at the entry level, but the percentage dropped to 33% at the next level, and it kept dropping till we had only one woman at the managerial level. This is the case across industries. Though the percentage of women at entry level may be high, the number keeps dropping, and there are barely any women in the corner offices.

This is certainly not because women are less competent than men- they aren’t. But one of the determining reasons is that women are not able to balance the insane time demands of the workplace with the personal responsibilities placed on them (there are many other systemic reasons for women dropping out, but this is certainly one of them).

Irresponsible statements by industry leaders make things worse for women

It is in light of this that statements like the one made by Narayana Murthy about ‘youngsters having to work 70 hours a week’ are so problematic. Male or female, expecting people to work 70 hours a week is moronic. Assuming 2 hours per day to commute to work, and 6 hours of sleep every day, you are left with 6 hours a day for everything else. Eating, attending to personal hygiene, dressing, paying bills, everything in just 6 hours a day. Even assuming you have a full-time housekeeper cum cook who takes care of all your requirements, you are left with virtually no time for exercise, friends, hobbies or even watching and discussing cricket. Yes, Narayana Murthy specified that this is only in the initial years while a person is establishing their career, but is such a lifestyle sustainable, much less desirable?

And what about the women whose lives will be made worse by these expectations?

Women face so many barriers while seeking a professional education and a career- will that not become worse if parents know that their daughters are expected to work 70 hours a week? Men have the privilege to focus on their career, because even if they get married, nothing will change for them. However, women will be subject to intense parental pressure to quit their jobs because a 70 hour work week would make them undesirable in the marriage market. Even if women fend off the pressure and work those 70 hour work weeks, will they be able to enjoy the benefit of that investment after they get married and have children?

There are people who say that women can choose to focus on the careers by not getting married/ having babies. While this is certainly possible, is it fair that only women are confronted with this choice? Even men who are fully focussed on their career get married and have children- neither of those life events disrupts their career progression. Why then should only women be expected to choose one or the other?

Long hours do not necessarily mean better productivity

What is needed to redress the gender balance is a two pronged strategy- companies realising that long hours do not necessarily imply greater productivity, and societal acceptance that caregiving, housekeeping and childrearing are gender agnostic.

Countries like the Netherlands and other Scandinavian and West European countries have shown that the introduction of flexible work hours has not resulted in a dip in productivity. Instead, if the focus remains on the output rather than the hours spent at work, productivity has gone up because there is an incentive to complete the job in the least possible time. These are also the countries where both partners share housekeeping, caregiving and childrearing in a more equitable manner, leaving both men and women with more time for leisure.

Countries like India where “hard work” is prioritised and where young people are brought up on the mantra of “work hard now so you reap rewards later”, are also countries which have low labour force participation by women and are extremely low on the happiness index. If we want the nation to progress, instead of glorifying 70 hour work weeks, we should be seeking greater productivity in white collar industries.

[Disclaimer: these are “first world” problems, and are largely restricted to the urban professional worker in corporate and in service industries. However many of these issues would similarly translate into other settings.]

Book Review: Anandibai Joshee: A Life in Poems

 

We have all heard about Dr. Anandibai Joshi, the first Indian woman to cross the Atlantic and to study medicine at the Woman’s Medical College of Pennsylvania. Married off to a widower many years a senior, she was 12 or 14 when she gave birth to a son who died even before his naming ceremony could be performed. It was this tragedy that drove home the fact that Indian women didn’t have access to modern medical care, and led to Anandibai defying tradition and going to the United States to become a “lady doctor”. Sadly, she died soon after she returned to India, which ensured that her husband directed the telling of her legacy.

According to the popular narrative, it was Anandibai’s husband who was a progressive zealot obsessed with ensuring she became a doctor. He was, apparently a controlling husband, who didn’t shy away from inflicting physical violence on his young wife to ensure she studied well. Her success, according to this narrative, was entirely scripted by her husband.

But who was Anandibai Joshee?
However, is that the truth? Was Anandibai merely a puppet who was directed by her husband? Could a woman completely lacking in agency have managed to survive (and even thrive) two years in a completely alien environment without giving up her identity? Did Anandibai have dreams and aspirations of her own, or did she merely do whatever her husband directed her to do?

These are the questions that Shikha Malaviya attempts to address in ‘Anandibai Joshee: A Life in Poems’. In this poetic biography, the narrative is centred around Anandibai, and the picture that emerges is of a strong young woman who knows exactly what she wants, and who is willing to make small compromises without losing the essence of who she is.

The book traces the development of Anandibai through poetry
Through this collection of poems, the poet, story traces the development of Anandibai from the time when she was a young girl to her last days.

The eight year old who sits on a swing and says:

“pumping my legs furiously
to see how high I could go
braids flying, skirt rippling, sun winking
toes trying to touch the sky
my only witness a green pigeon
whose wings I conspired to steal”

The nine year old who looks her 26 year old prospective groom in the eye and says, “Majhe nav Yamuna Ganpatrao Joshee aahe”.

The young woman who’s leaking breasts remind her of the baby she lost even before the 11th day when they were to name him, and to whom she says:

“through your loss I find purpose
my son with no name birthing a dream
and I volunteer myself to my countrywomen
as I take the oath of Hippocrates
to heal and heal, to do no harm, to don
the white coat only men have worn”

The Anandibai who emerges from the pages of the book is not a woman in need of a saviour. Her husband may have wanted her to become the first lady doctor in India, but it was a dream she dreamt too, and she was the only one who made it happen.

The book dwells deep into who the person behind the legend was
The conflict between the fears and ambitions of Anandibai’s husband and her are brought out beautifully in the poem “LOVE ACROSS BLACK WATERS”, written in the form of letters crossing before they reach. While the first letters are of a proud husband and a wife who misses him, his tone soon changes:

“What I was afraid of has happened
all I taught you undone like a knot
style of saree altered, and what next?
Will the next photograph be of you in Western dress?”

In the letter that crosses this, she writes:

“my integrity greatly measured from such a long distance
under your able guidance I thrive in this new land
I never tire of upholding my native
all during the day a saree draped on my person.”

The contrast between the two cannot be starker. He is jealous and fearful of losing control over her. She is full of hope. She knows she made compromises where she had to, but also knows she remains true to who she is. He was not, however, able to tolerate the woman she was growing into when far away from him. This is not the tale of a young girl moulded by her husband; this is the story of a woman who grabs whatever opportunities she can without losing a sense of who she is.

The book is rooted in feminism
This is an unabashedly feminist retelling of the story of Dr. Anandibai Joshi, and the very first poem sets the tone for what is to follow:

OUTSIDE THE CHAUKAT
Kalyan, Maharashtra, Nineteenth Century

If you want to know what happens in this bustling town by the sea, Kalyan, which in Sanskrit means well-being but whose shores have thrice been plundered by the Mughals, the Portuguese, and the British, despite the shade of a fortress and a long city wall with four gates and eleven towers, whose welfare is erased and renamed Kallian and Cullian
-ask the men, for they are the ones who wear shoes that take them outside the chaukat. They are the lucky ones, who, donning their turbans, smell the dung of many homes, hear the hum of horses hooves, darken their hands with the ink of newsprint, read the khabar of the day while sitting on a jhopala in the courtyard, dragging a puff from a gurgling hookah
- whereas the women tiptoe softly, their bare soles hardened walking from kitchen-to-cowshed-to well, fingertips charred from stoking the chulha, thoughts spilling over like water from vessels balanced on their heads, of what lies beyond a door frame, that make a splash and then evaporate

When she moves to Philadelphia, she encounters other kinds of inequities. She wonders if the people around her see her as a person or as a curiosity. She muses about whether she is fundamentally different from the freaks she saw in a circus. When she visits the boarding school at Carlisle where Native Americans were sent to so their traditional ways could be replaced by modern European thoughts, she cherishes the fact that she was able to hold onto her apparel, her food and her spiritual views, even while getting a modern education.

‘Anandibai Joshee: A Life in Poems’ is an important book to read, because it goes beyond the bare facts of the life of one of India’s pioneering women. While it draws on letters, journals, articles and old photographs, by using Anandibai’s voice and the medium of poetry, the book centres the narrative on the woman, her thoughts, her challenges, and how she reacts to the environment of her times. This is certainly a book I will be recommending to many of my friends.

Claudia Goldin’s Nobel Prize in Economics highlights gender inequity in the labour market

 

“There are still large differences between women and men in terms of what they do, how they’re remunerated and so on. And the question is, why is this the case? And that’s what the work is about.”

- Claudia Goldin

Claudia Goldin became the third woman, after Elinor Ostrom and Esther Duflo to win the Nobel Memorial Prize in Economic Sciences, and the first woman to be an individual winner. This takes the percentage of women awardees (in Economics) up from 2.17% to 3.23%, which is nearly a 50% increase. But that is the not the only reason we should be celebrating the win of the 77 year old economic historian and labour economist from Harvard University. We should be celebrating because Claudia Goldin was awarded the Prize for “having advanced our understanding of women’s labour market outcomes’.

Globally, labour force participation of women is about 50% while that of men is closer to 80%. Even when women work, they are often paid less than men performing an equivalent job. Claudia Goldin’s research examines the source of these gender differences and throws up insights into the role of women in the labour market.

Historical data shows patterns of inequity in labour markets

By looking at available historical data, it was assumed that female participation in the labour force started going up in the 20th century and it was assumed that there was a positive co-relation between economic growth and female participation in the workplace. By studying the historical data in greater detail, Goldin concluded that the participation of women in the work force was grossly underreported, especially for married women where the occupation was simply captured as ‘wife’. She also found that when workplaces shifted from home/ near home to a factory after the Industrial Revolution, the participation of women in the labour force went down drastically, and it started picking up only after the rise of the service industry.

By studying the female participation in the labour market for different cohorts, Goldin confirmed what was already known- that even if women entered the labour market, they dropped out after marriage and childbirth. Her research, however, threw up an additional insight- when women tried to re-enter the labour market after their children were grown up, their options were restricted by the educational choices they had made 2 decades ago. This was a vicious cycle, because the educational decisions had been taken at a time when women did not expect to continue working after marriage and childbirth, and the fact that they were have desirable educational qualifications later proved to be an impediment to their participation in the labour force market.

The power of contraceptive pills in improving participation of women in the workplace

From the 1960s onwards, the relatively easier availability of contraceptive pills ensured that women were able to delay marriage and childbirth, which ensured that more women entered the workforce, particularly in fields like medicine, law and economics which involved an extended professional training. However, despite the entry of professionally qualified women the wage gap between men and women remained. Goldin looked at data from a range of sources, and found that the gender pay gap could not be explained by factors like age, education or productivity. Her research showed what we now take as common knowledge- that employees with long and uninterrupted careers tend to get higher wages, and that salaries are often decided based on the perception of how long a particular employee will work with the firm. Goldin’s research clearly showed that, in the United States, the difference in income starts out being fairly small, but that both earnings and rate of growth of earnings fall after women have their first child.

Goldin’s work both highlights causes of inequity and offers a framework for solutions

It is largely because of the pioneering work of Claudia Goldin that we are able to understand the demands of the contemporary labour markets. When employees are expected to be constantly available and flexible to the demands of the employer, women who have greater responsibilities at home lose out on both career progression and earnings.

Goldin provided the background against which policymakers can try to create legislation to remove/ reduce these institutional barriers. It is because of her work that we now know that educational attainment alone doesn’t do much to reduce the earning gap- what is of greater importance is the opportunity to plan and finance a return to the labour force after having children, or to have greater flexibility at work.

By awarding the Nobel Prize to Claudia Goldin, and acknowledging her work on ‘advancing our understanding of women’s labour market outcomes’, the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences has put the gender inequity in the labour market in the spotlight. This should, hopefully, start more conversations on what policy makers and corporates can do to ensure that women’s labour is acknowledged and rewarded.