By Samiran Saha
Photo : Shailendra Pandey
THE BUZZ these days in Air India Building, Nariman Point, Mumbai — headquarters of the National Aviation Company of India Ltd (NACIL) — is about more new big-ticket appointments. As part of its turnaround strategy, the state-run carrier has lined up a team whose annual emoluments boggle the mind. The April appointment of Gustav Baldauf, former executive vice-president of Austrian Airlines and chief operating officer (COO) of NACIL, which runs Air India (AI), was just the beginning. Now it plans to hire a COO for its low-cost international arm, Air India Express, a chief strategy officer, a chief information officer, a chief communication adviser, and a chief adviser to handle its human resources (HR) issues.
Baldauf being airdropped into a top job may not have been received well by the staff in the middle and junior management cadres, but senior AI officials and industry observers feel that the decision to have a “hands-on” COO will help the flag carrier turn around faster. “There are gaps in our resources and capabilities, and I see no harm in sourcing experienced manpower from outside. Baldauf has come in with a clear mandate and he will work to a plan to turn the airline around in these competitive times,” says a senior AI official who does not wish to be identified. “There have been governing issues in Air India for a long time, and the government now has to decide whether the airline needs technocrats or bureaucrats to run its affairs,” he adds.
Photo : Shailendra Pandey
This is the first time that a COO has been hired from outside the ranks of the bureaucracy and given the task of salvaging Air India within three years. The airline also recently recast its board, inducting four new independent directors — Anand Mahindra, vice-chairman and managing director of auto major Mahindra and Mahindra Ltd, Fali Homi Major, former chief of air staff of the Indian Air Force, Amit Mitra, secretary-general of industry lobby FICCI and Yusuffali MA, managing director of Dubai-based industrial house Emke Group. While Mitra will advise the airline on HR issues, Mahindra will help in audit and finance.
But middle-level executives are fuming. “The airline has a huge debt. Earlier, it even found it difficult to pay our salaries on time. But hiring a COO at Rs 3.14 crore per annum is unacceptable,” says one.
According to him there have been no promotions or pay hikes in two years, and he wants to know why the considerable in-house talent within the organisation is not being tapped. His colleague is further peeved that staff from the northern region have been asked to sign a contract that could get them transferred to Air India SATS Airport Services Private Ltd, a joint venture AI formed with Singapore Airlines for ground-handling operations. “We aren’t even sure if we will be retained at all,” he bitterly complains.
BUT THE other side is equally insistent that all this is for the good. An analyst with a global consultancy, for instance, justifies the appointments, saying, “The resentment is justified, but then the staff too needs to understand that the move is aimed at pulling the airline out of the financial quagmire it is in.” He is endorsed by Kapil Kaul, head of the India Practice at the Consultancy Centre for Asia Pacific Aviation.
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HIGHS AND LOWS
> OUTSOURCING
This is the first time that a COO has been hired from outside the airline bureaucracy
> PEER SUPPORT
Many top aviation officials endorse AI’s expensive turnaround strategy
> LOSING AIRLINE
Despite an equity infusion of Rs 800 crore, AI has suffered losses of Rs 15,000 crorey
> BOARD RECAST
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“Getting the right people at the top is critical for an airline that is looking to recover. There should be no compromise on the quality of people being inducted,” Kaul told TEHELKA. And though Ankur Bhatia, executive director of Bird Group, an aviation technologies service provider, concedes that Air India has some seasoned manpower, he too considers it a sensible step. But, it stands to reason that with so much heartburn all around, the airline’s morale will go down still further.
Disturbingly, despite the airline receiving an equity infusion of Rs 800 crore from the government, it has suffered cumulative losses of nearly Rs 15,000 crore, and its market share is 16.9 percent — way behind market leader Jet Airways and Kingfisher Airlines. But right now nobody is asking what makes them tick. All the talk is about AI’s expensive hiring spree.
Civil Aviation Minister Praful Patel recently told Parliament that the national carrier was expected to lose around Rs 5,400 crore this fiscal and that the trend was likely to continue for a few more years. And Baldauf has just three.
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RBI comes to airlines’ rescue
HERE, FINALLY, is some good news for the debtridden aviation industry: the Reserve Bank of India (RBI) is considering a second restructuring package for the sector. Banks have been pressing the RBI to give its nod for this second restructuring package.
If the RBI agrees, the airline companies will have more time to service their massive debt. Besides, it will help banks to maintain higher profitability. Banks have to set aside a certain percentage of their advances as a contingency for loans going bad, or unpaid. Profitability apart, this also limits lending capacity. “Banks have to make provisioning for these bad loans, which impact the profitability of the banking sector,” says a senior bank official.
According to the Centre for Asia Pacific Aviation, three major airline firms together owe $13.5 billion. However,the RBI is likely to retain the “recompense” clause for such loans. Under this, if an airline does well a bank can reverse some concessions, including reduction in the rate of interest. Moreover, banks will lend to aviation firms on a case-to-case basis. Says Ranjan Dhawan, CGM, Punjab National Bank. “For a viable project we will lend to them, despite the sector being in trouble.” Now for a high!
Abhishek Anand
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Air India is paying millions to hire top talent in its turnaround bid. Will it work?
Why women should not hold on
Women suffer much more than men from the pathetic state of our public toilets. How long before they raise a stink, asks Aastha Atray Banan
FOR KHAN Fahreen Sajid, a resident of the Behram Nagar slum in Mumbai’s Bandra East, the decision of who to marry is going to be the most practical one of her life. All she wants is a toilet — a step up from the slum’s community loo. “I need a house that has an attached bathroom,” she told her father, a zari maker, matter-of-factly.
In Haryana, this realisation dawned early. In 2005, the government started the initiative ‘No Toilet, No Bride’. Slogans of “If you don’t have a proper lavatory in your house, don’t even think about marrying my daughter” were plastered across villages. About 1.4 million lavatories have been built in the state since 2005 and 798 village panchayats have already received nearly Rs 11.29 crore as reward for having a toilet in each household.
When James Brown said, “It’s a man’s world”, he was probably thinking of the long queue outside a women’s loo. Out of Delhi’s 3,192 public urinals, only 132 were for women, according to a Delhi High Court inspection in 2007 and a Centre for Civil Society paper. In Mumbai, Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation officer on special duty Anand Jagtap told TEHELKA that the government makes an equal number of toilets for men and women, with the aim of providing one toilet seat for every 50 people.
But Jagtap’s arithmetic is misleading. Even when the number of toilets are same, male ones have more units since they’re equipped with additional standing- style urinals. This is doubly debilitating when you consider that men and women use toilets differently, and, according to a 1988 Virginia Tech study, women need to spend twice as long in the loo as men.
The Indian man just zips down, faces the next wall and relieves himself. In doing so, he faces no shame or embarrassment — whereas women feel furtive even about using a public loo. Smrithi Rao, a 24-year-old Bengaluru stylist explains, “We are conditioned by birth to feel shame. And I don’t want men to look at me when I am using a loo.”
Kaveri Nag, a retail manager in Delhi, says, “I’m scared I’m going to catch an infection, because most toilets are dirty.I carry toilet paper and cover the seats with lots of it.” She drives from Delhi to Jaipur every week, and is shocked that there is not even one toilet on the threehour long stretch: “Men can just get off and go. What do we do?”
In the Kutch, women are forced to defecate in a hole in their rooms after childbirth as walking to a distant field demarcated for defecation is out of the question, reveals Ila Pathak, a prominent social activist who works for the Ahmedabad Women’s Action Group. Says Pathak, “Most women in rural areas don’t use sanitary napkins, so during the time they are menstruating they stay at home and follow the same routine. Travelling to places almost an hour away demarcated as a women’s loo can also cause unusual problems. If the woman of the house takes a long time coming back from these areas, family members suspect her of having an affair and beat them up!”
And in the Northeast, says Charishma, a PhD student in Shillong: “You can spot men all over the hills and in the main town parking themselves on the side of the roads. But when we go down to the main marketplace every Sunday, we keep in mind that we shouldn’t consume too much liquids, or else we might have to use the dirty loos. We have got used to holding it forever.”
FILMMAKER PAROMITA Vohra’s documentary Q2P asks the all-important question: Who are India’s super cities being built for if there are not even basic facilities for women? Paromita says with a dry smile, “A woman’s body is never seen biologically, only sexually, and so when a woman sees a man watching her as she goes to the loo, she knows he’ll be thinking of her naked body. The fact that women can’t pee where they want and when they want is a proof of their oppression — even in the so-called metros.”
India’s urban women — both rich and poor, by the way — face many problems around their toilet routines, but the dilemma of preserving their dignity is often in the forefront. Take the case of Rukhsana Anwar Sheikh, 35, who lives in a Mumbai slum, and has to cross over to a neighbouring slum every time she needs to visit a decent loo. “I only go to the loo before dark as I don’t want to leave my house after a decent hour. And if my calculations go wrong, I just hold it. Women are supposed to be resilient,” she cracks a weary yet resigned smile.
Some women, though, are ready to challenge society’s farcical attitude. Bharti, Guddi and Sunita — housemaids in Delhi’s Rohini neighbourhood — have decided to shed their inhibitions for the sake of their health. The owners of houses where they work don’t allow them to use the bathrooms, so they hit back by squatting on the main road whenever they feel the need to go, even if they are stared at. “We gave up sharam long time back. If we fall ill, what will happen to our children? It’s not a choice we can afford to make,” says the trio of Rajasthani banjara women.
‘I only go to the loo before dark and if my calculations go wrong, I just hold it. We’re supposed to be resilient,’ says Anwar Sheikh with a resigned smile
Dr Anita Patil-Deshmukh, executive director of Pukar India, agrees that there are health risks to holding back. “They suffer from constipation and piles. Women who hold it in for long periods also suffer from recurrent UTI (urinary tract infection) and hence give birth to premature or small babies. It’s one of the silent killers for women all over India.” A study conducted by think tank Observer Research Foundation (ORF) in 2010, on sanitation facilities at Mumbai’s 106 suburban railway stations, revealed that the ratio of women to men getting UTI was 6:1.
Journalist Brinda Majithia, 25, commutes 90 minutes from far-off Mumbai suburb Kandivali to Lower Parel every day and never uses the railway station toilets. “I have gone eight hours at a stretch without using a bathroom. The only way you can think of using a station loo is if you don’t touch anything.” At her office, too, there is water shortage. “Last month, we were actually forced to go to a nearby mall because our office made no provision for water shortage in the city,” she says. “Men didn’t suffer — they were still able to use the office urinals.”
It is well known that the right to education is hampered by lack of loos in schools. Half of India’s government-run schools don’t have separate toilets for males and females, forcing young women to use unisex facilities or nothing at all. Bina Lashkari of the NGO Doorstep Schools, which works with Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation schools all over Mumbai, says, “Most girls give up coming to school once they hit puberty, as they are wary of using the dirty unisex toilet, especially when they are menstruating.” In Bengaluru, in a school which had no loo, girls would go in twos to the corner of the compound. One girl would shelter the girl peeing by standing in front of her with her skirt spread out! No wonder, a Ministry of Health and Family Welfare health survey from 2006 found that 22 percent of girls complete 10 or more years of schooling compared to 35 percent of boys.
British urban design planner Clara Greed once said that you can judge a nation by its toilets and assess the true position of women in society by looking at its toilet queues. In India, all we can do is hope, and wait with our legs crossed as tight as possible.
Four state-owned insurance firms have blacklisted 150 hospitals for inflating bills. Now what?
HOSPITALS across Delhi, Mumbai, Chennai and Bengaluru have been struck off the list of facilities for cashless insurance — a move that will ultimately benefit policyholders. The companies — United India, Oriental Insurance, National Insurance and New India Assurance — are expected to blacklist more hospitals that, in collusion with third party administrators (TPAs), have been grossly inflating bills
Public sector general insurance providers account for close to 70 percent of the health insurance market, and between April and September 2009 they had together collected close to Rs 2,300 crore as health insurance premium. The insurers say they are more than willing to extend their Preferred Provider Network (PPN) — the number of hospitals that provide cashless transaction facility under the medical insurance policy. But the offer comes with a healthy rider: there must be transparency in the billing process
Insurance companies and leading healthcare providers, including Fortis Hospitals, Max Healthcare and Apollo hospitals, discussed the issue in Mumbai on July 13. The three, which are members of the National Committee on Healthcare of the Confederation of Indian Industries (CII), are among the hospitals removed from the PPN list on July 1.
“The hospital industry wants more hospitals to be included in the (PPN) list and we are open to it,” New India Assurance general manager S Gopalakrishnan told TEHELKA. “But we want more people included in the cashless facility category. The benefit should reach everyone and overcharging must end. If a hospital is found engaging in fraudulent practices, it will be struck off the list. If they comply, total transparency can come about in a year.”
Chairman And Managing Director, Medanta Medicity
The insurers’ message appears to have gone home, with the hospitals finally “showing keenness” to address the malaise. Even so, the gap between word and deed remains wide, and so far there is little on the ground to suggest they are as sincere as they are trying to sound. “We have kept our options open. These include reducing fees and various other charges, making billing transparent and helping insurance companies ward off losses,” says Max Healthcare Chief Executive Officer and Managing Director Pervez Ahmed. In the same breath, however, Ahmed claims he is “startled” by the sudden rap on their knuckles. “The unilateral decision is surprising. They held no negotiations on the issue. Individual customers are sure to find themselves in a soup.”
But the insurance companies say they stand by their July 1 decision, claiming that some hospitals charged higher fees from insured patients as compared to those without insurance. This was done through fraudulent billing, they claim — an allegation that gets progressively harder to counter.
Indeed, even Dr Naresh Trehan, chairman and managing director of Medanta Medicity, a Gurgaon-based specialty healthcare provider, says he does not rule out the incidence of fraudulent billing “in some cases”. “But it isn’t widespread,” he insists, adding, “What’s more, insurance companies have failed to establish that bills have indeed been manipulated.”
The insurers will have none of that, and insist they have a strong case. Counters G Srinivasan, chairman and managing director of United India Insurance: “Our claim payment ratio stands at 120 to 125 percent. In many cases we found the bills exorbitantly high and we had no option but to delist these hospitals from the PPN.” Even so, Srinivasanƒ says he understands the kind of problems that are likely to result from the blacklisting. “We will provide cashless transaction even in these hospitals in cases of emergency, and will also add more hospitals under the cashless transaction facility,” he assures.
According to data provided by the watchdog body, the Insurance Regulatory Development Authority (IRDA), the total claim ratio in the case of health insurance during 2008-09 stood at 105.95 percent as against 107 percent a year ago. This means that for every Rs 100 of premium collected, insurance companies paid out Rs 106.
Significantly, the claim ratio in the case of public sector insurers stood at 116.60 percent during 2008-09, as against 85.33 percent for private sector health insurance providers. And only the latter showed improvement in their claim ratios. The losers for the most part were the state-owned companies.
But neither IRDA, nor the General Insurance Council, the apex body of general insurers, is willing to intervene or mediate. While IRDA says the matter is outside its purview, Council secretarygeneral SL Mohan asks, “How can we step in till they approach us?”
THE HOSPITALS meanwhile keep parroting the old line — though every time they do so one detects an underpinning of caution. For, in the same breath that people like Ahmed of Max and Medicity’s Dr Trehan claim the move will only hurt the patients, they slip in the fact that they are not sitting by idly.
Says Dr Trehan: “To avoid that (fraudulent billing) we are ready to bring in more checks and balances, provided they (the insurance companies) also take some corrective steps.” He also wants frequent interaction between hospitals and insurers “to arrive at a mutually beneficial decision, which in turn would benefit policyholders”.
Asked why some hospitals charged higher fees, Dr Trehan sought refuge in an analogy, comparing roadside food with what is available in upscale establishments. “You may get equally tasty food at a dhaba as in a five-star hotel. But five-stars charge more, because they maintain hygiene. The same applies to hospitals. High-end hospitals focus a lot on cleanliness and take several precautions. It is therefore natural that their charges will be on the higher side.”
But it is not just government companies that are excluding hospitals from their preferred list. Bharti AXA, the private sector general insurance provider, too has trimmed its list of approved hospitals. “We found that some hospitals were fudging bills and so we removed these from our list. We have scaled down the number of hospitals we have a tie-up with to 3,800, down by 200. None of the big names have been excluded though,” says Bharti AXA Chief Executive Officer Amarnath Ananthanarayanan.
The only question nobody is asking is, should not the erring hospitals — big or small — be fined?
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HOSPITALS VERSUS INSURERS
>STRUCK OFF
150 hospitals were removed from state-run insurers’ Preferred Partner Network (PPN) list starting July 1
> MARKET SHARE
Government-owned companies account for 70 percent of the health insurance market
> CLAIM RATIO
For government companies, it stands at 116 percent
> GENERAL COMPLAINT
Bharti AXA General too reduces the number of affiliated hospitals
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Untapped Bounty
The promoters of Islamic banking hope to attract Shariah-compliant Muslims, reports Abhishek Anand
INDIA MAY soon allow Islamic banking or Shariah-compliant banking in the country. As a first step, the Reserve Bank of India is expected to permit some non-banking financial companies (NBFCs) to offer Shariah finance.
Globally, Islamic banking is growing at a rate of 15 percent to 20 percent, and according to a KPMG report, Shariah-compliant banking assets now stand at around $750 billion. Money raised by Islamic banking is typically invested in activity that is consistent with Shariah rules, which means not investing in companies dealing in liquor, gambling or sex. It also means not investing in pure interest-bearing instruments.
Shariah banking functions on a profit-sharing model, as opposed to the traditional interest-rate governed model. At present, close to 75 countries from Europe, North America and Southeast Asia have adopted the Shariah model that is largely aimed at Muslim investors.
“Some time back, the RBI showed willingness to let Islamic banking take roots in the country. If only on an experimental basis, it is likely to allow some NBFCs to start Shariah finance in the country, and depending upon the experience, it may extend the practice through formal banking channels,” says Hiresh Wadhwani, partner and national director, banking and capital markets, at Ernst & Young. But he adds the central bank will have to formulate regulations that safeguard the interest of customers.
The RBI has been considering the matter for quite some time now. The 2008 Raghu Ram Rajan Committee report on financial sector reforms had advocated introduction of Shariah banking in the country. Muslims constitute close to 13 percent of the country’s total population, but their share in overall deposit and credit stands at 7.5 percent and 0.5 percent, respectively. Shariah banking maybe able to attract much of these untapped resources.
Globally, Islamic banking assets stand at around $750 billion
Already, market regulator SEBI has allowed entry of Shariah-compliant mutual fund schemes in the country. Two companies — Taurus Mutual Fund and Benchmark Mutual Fund — have launched such schemes, providing substantial returns to investors.
“We have managed to provide a hefty return of 120 percent to customers in the last 15 months,” says an upbeat Waqar Naqvi, chief executive officer of Taurus Mutual Fund. During the economic downturn in March 2009, the fund was able to raise Rs 4 crore. But now, says Naqvi, the average assets under management stand at a respectable Rs 25 crore. And the consensus is that things can only get better.
The Kerala government too has allowed Shariahcompliant investment companies to channelise the considerable remittances they get from the Gulf. According to the KPMG report, Kerala receives remittances worth nearly $2.4 billion annually from West Asia. But a major portion of it is either lying in bank accounts or is used for investments in real estate and jewellery.
WRITER’S EMAIL:
ABHISHEK.ANAND@FWTEHELKA.COM
OFFSHORE FUNDS: The European currency crisis is worrying small and medium Indian borrowers
By Abhishek Anand
CORPORATE INDIA is rattled. Along with hardening interest rates and the newly introduced base rate regime, which restricts lending below a particular level (varying from bank to bank), Indian companies may now also have to put up with selective offshore lending by banks and financial institutions abroad. This comes amidst the worsening economic situation in the Eurozone.
Current signs are that the source of cheap funding for Indian companies is in disarray and they are having a tough time raising funds through External Commercial Borrowings (ECBs) and Foreign Currency Convertible Bonds (FCCBs) from overseas markets. Both took a big hit in the last one month. Consider these figures: according to Reserve Bank of India (RBI) data, the offshore fund-raising plan it had approved dropped to $0.69 billion in May, as against $2.81 billion in June. The drop was a whopping 75 percent; and if the RBI-approved fund-raising in March is taken into account, the fall is even sharper. Last March, all companies got approvals to borrow $4.32 billion from overseas through FCCBs and ECBs.
“The major fund-raising source destinations are the US, the UK, Germany and some other European countries. The crisis in some of them, such as Greece and Portugal, has impacted the sentiment even in other countries. As a consequence, institutions have become cautious and lending to companies is subdued,” Rohit Berry, partner, BMR Advisors, told TEHELKA.
Only companies with a credible track record are managing to raise funds through ECBs and FCCBs
FUND-RAISING through ECBs include loans from banks, buyers and suppliers’ credit, fixed and floating rate bonds (bonds that cannot be converted into equities) and borrowings from private sector windows of multilateral financial institutions like the International Finance Corporation and the Asian Development Bank (ADB). FCCBs are primarily debt instruments which are issued in currency other than the issuer’s — with the option of converting them into equities at some later date. Like other bonds, FCCBs also make regular coupon (interest) payments. As a result, the interest rate has begun to harden — hampering borrowing from overseas. “Interest rates have gone up in the overseas market and even the “AAA” rated companies are having to pay 250 basis point over and above the Libor rate for loans of five years or less. Companies are thus unable to borrow within the RBI ceiling, resulting in lesser overseas borrowings,” says LP Agarwal, managing director, PNB Investments. Effective January 1 last, the RBI has put a cap on the interest that any company would have to pay for borrowings through the ECB route. “Corporates are not allowed to pay an all-in-cost of 300 basis points above the London Interbank Offered Rate (Libor) for borrowing up to five years. For borrowings over this period, the maximum cost which corporates are now allowed is 500 basis points above Libor,” according to an RBI circular issued last December.
(Libor is an average of the rates at which international banks are willing to lend funds to each other.)
However, companies with a credible track record are still managing to raise funds through ECBs and FCCBs. Some of the major ones that have managed to do so are Fortis Healthcare, Lupin, Kanoria Chemicals, Shree Cement, Reliance Industries, Tata Teleservices, Vodafone Essar and Aircel.
“Though companies with ‘AAA’ or ‘AA’ ratings are still managing to raise funds within the RBI stipulated cap, banks are generally treading cautiously and those with lower ratings will have problems raising funds,” says Ashok Bhandari, chief financial officer, Shree Cements. The latter had got RBI approval in March to raise $20 million for modernisation. On the other hand, Reliance Industries got the nod for raising funds to the tune of $800 million in the same month. Reliance Industries plans to utilise the proceeds to refinance some of its old loans.
“Demand and supply apart, companies may be waiting for the various currencies to stabilise. Once the Euro does so against the dollar, we might start seeing higher offshore borrowings by Indian companies,” Ashish Basil, partner, Ernst and Young points out.
WRITER’S EMAIL:
ABHISHEK.ANAND@FWTEHELKA.COM
Short steps out of long shadows
Marathons might soon be a Rs 100 crore industry. A remote Maharashtrian camp is training rural youth to run their way to freedom, finds Aastha Atray Banan
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JAYSHREE SHIVSHANKAR Boragi, 20, runs lap after lap after lap through the stones and brush in the dried river bed. A small dust cloud trails at her quick feet. This lithe girl from Kolhapur in Maharashtra beat 1,600 runners to win the Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon 2010 in the 21 km category. The marathon awarded her more than Rs 80,000 for the effort, while her training programme, the Sagroli Sunrise Project, gave her Rs 1 lakh. The firstyear night school BA student likes to read motivational books like Badi Soch ka Bada Jadoo. Jayshree takes marathoning seriously.
Jayshree’s father died when she was three. Her mother Madhavi took up his job as a Public Works peon — and now won’t touch her daughter’s earnings, even while barely managing her tworoom home’s rent. Jayashree credits her focus to her mother, saying, “She doesn’t even let me help in the house. It’s all about my running. I have to first win the 42 km run [full marathon] and then start training for the Olympics 2016.”
Jayshree is typical of the new aspirants driving the burgeoning Indian scene. Athletics Federation of India (AFI) officials estimate that marathon sponsorship has the potential to be second only to cricket in India. Races have mushroomed across the country: the Pune International Marathon is the country’s oldest and has completed 24 editions. The country’s annual running calendar is now packed with more than 25 long-distance races in the four metros and smaller cities. The Mumbai Marathon started with 1,000 runners in 2004 and clocked 38,450 runners in 2010. “It’s the largest in Asia,” says Mumbai Marathon’s Deepak Pilankar. “It attracts many celebrities but 80 percent of runners belong to the middle and lower classes.” Newspaper reports might lead you to believe that marathons are mainly the picture-perfect realm of the Ambanis and Preity Zintas, but count in executives, homemakers, students — everybody likes a good run today. India has also had some unusual homegrown champs: 4-year-old Budhia, sold by his mother in Orissa in 2006, who once ran 65km at a stretch and whose coach was accused of exploiting him; 90-year-old Fauja Singh, a world record holder in his age bracket, was featured in an Adidas campaign alongside David Beckham and Muhammad Ali; Ashis Roy, who ran his first marathon at age 52, and at 76 completed his 85th marathon in New York.
IN THIS SPIKING scenario, the Sagroli Sunrise Project — a Maharashtrian organisation offering running programmes for rural youth with cash rewards for excellence — has emerged as an unexpected hotbed of talent. Its runners wowed the Mumbai Marathon this year. Alongside Jayshree’s coup, Sunrise runners bagged fourth place in the women’s half-marathon and four of the top 10 ranks in the men’s half-marathon. Part of the Sanskriti Samvardhan Mandal (SSM) — a rural empowerment initiative — the project currently provides 33 runners free education, boarding, lodging and training until class XII.
Sunita Kannaram, 16, is one such runner who came fourth in Mumbai. Her mud house in Khajapur, Andhra Pradesh — no wider than two coffins — is packed with neighbours who’ve come to see her on one of her two annual visits home. Running has taken her to the world outside — she now lives in Sagroli village, across the border, and says she loves beating boys at kabaddi.
Since Sunita’s father died, her sister Sridevi stitches clothes and mother Saraswati works as a field labourer. Their hopes now rest firmly with Sunita. “She can earn more with running than we can doing anything in this village,” says Sridevi, who dropped out after class V. In shorts and a little t-shirt, Sunita alternates between smiling like a child and frowning at all the adulation, then rushes back to school for an English exam. The road back is flanked by jowar crops, and in Sagroli it suddenly opens up into a massive ground — this ‘training track’ is not the usual neatly swept landscape common in the West. This team manages fine blistering through the local thorn bushes, pointy gravel, river beds, equally at ease with the mossy underfloor of forests or the crumbling floor of a hillside. “Training starts at 4pm,” calls out Sunita on her way to tackle her fear of verbs and nouns.
The school itself is an impressive sight in the middle of the badlands. Founded in 1959, the SSM runs an orphanage, a high school and a sainik school on a sprawling campus. It’s home to thousands of boys and girls. The Sunrise Project was initiated in 2004 by entrepreneur Deepak Kanegaonkar, who felt local students have the bodies and stamina for marathons. “They’re used to walking long distances and have the desire to do something, and frankly that comes from being underprivileged – that itself is their strength,” he says. Momentum came when, three years ago, Carlton Pereira, an ex-investment banker from Mumbai, and Sudhir Rao of IndusAge Advisors, Chennai pledged financial aid.
‘Sunita can earn more with running than we can doing anything in this village,’ says her sister Sridevi
Money lubricates the runs. The AFI estimates marathon running to be a business worth Rs 10-25 crore today and expects it to hit Rs 100 crore in 10 years. Both athletes and amateurs run for the money — the 2010 Mumbai Marathon offered about Rs 1.4 crore in total prize money. Some run for social causes and prize money is donated to NGOS. IndusAge reports that the Sagroli Sunrise Project has spent around Rs 40 to 50 lakh since inception for medical aid, travel, protein-rich diet, sports kits, endless running shoes, and its two coaches. Pereira, who’s also planning a gym in Sagroli, says, “The project is about levelling the playing field for the underprivileged. They’re educated along the way, so even if they don’t become champions they can be financially independent.”
The project plans to launch centres in Nashik and Kolhapur, participate in AFI and private marathons, and help all its athletes who finish school get either a job or college education. However, Deepak Bapukumbhar, 23, only hopes his running will at least feed his family — he quit school to pursue running and came 6th in Mumbai. The potter still makes Ganesh idols with his mother in his one room in Karochi, near Kolhapur. “Running is the only way I’ll make a living, but only if I’m one of the best. And only a good coach can make me an international athlete,” he says, glancing at his coach, Pandurang Ishwar Maskar, who only nods sagely in the distance.
Coach Maskar, 65, divides his time between Sagroli and a college in Kolhapur. He likes playing cinematic slave driver — the team watches every flick of his eyes, discreetly topping his teacup, touching his feet before warm-ups. Despite his quick temper, the team seems to esteem him. Maskar believes his scientific approach has been key to their success: “It’s all about training the right way. An athlete can’t take a break of even one day” — daily training from 5 to 8am, then a breakfast of raw eggs, followed by school, then back at 4pm to warm up, stretch and run again for 1.5 hours. The kids hurl faster when they hear Maskar’s booming voice or whistle. After training, the curt old man holds court in a chair with the team standing around him. Later, they mill about and help each other stretch again, gossiping about school and movies.
The marathon runner’s patience is not mythical. Take Rameshwar Govindrao Chidgire, 20, once touted as the next big thing. He didn’t manage a place in Mumbai this year and now suffers from being sidelined — and yet has kept the faith. He says softly, “Everyone’s timing has improved since coach took over.” Along with the optimism there are always the doubts about stamina, injuries and competition — especially from Kenyans and Ethiopians. Jayshree’s mother laments that she sees her daughter only a few days in a month, “Running is such a rough sport. But I have to let her go if I want her to do something concrete with her life.”
It’s getting dusk. Evening practice is just ending. New York City Marathon co-founder Fred L ebow once described the marathon as a “charismatic event” — equal parts competition, drama, camaraderie and heroism. The Sagroli kids understand this intimately even if they can’t quite articulate it. Sunita puts it as her discovery of Mumbai when she first arrived there: “It’s just such a grand city.” It won’t be her last visit. Watch out when Sangroli sets them all loose again.
WRITER’S EMAIL
aastha@tehelka.com
Chasing A Mirage?
Speedy retrieval of the black money stashed away in overseas tax havens is a distant possibility, says Abhishek Anand
THE GOVERNMENT is making a second attempt to recover the billions of dollars that Indians have stashed away in overseas bank accounts. Recently, the Enforcement Directorate (ED) issued 200 notices to alleged tax evaders, and asked them all to show their income-tax returns for the past five years within a month. Nearly $1.5 trillion is believed to be lying in these banks.
But these are early days yet, and finance ministry officials say it is impossible to say how long it will take to retrieve the concealed money — if any of it comes back at all. It certainly won’t happen in a hurry, most of them agree; though according to Finance Secretary Ashok Chawla it will now become a great deal harder to launder money
Also in the pipeline are eight more Income Tax Overseas Units (ITOUs) — in the US, the UK, the Netherlands, Japan, Cyprus, Germany, France and the UAE to keep a better tab on illegal transactions. Currently there are only two: one in Singapore and another in Mauritius.
The ED crackdown has come a month after the Central Board of Direct Taxes sent show-cause notices to 50 people whose names were disclosed by LGT Bank in Liechtenstein — a tax haven close to Germany.
It was the amendment of Section 90 of the Income Tax Act earlier this year that enabled India to sign informaIt was the amendment of Section 90 of the Income Tax Act earlier this year that enabled India to sign information- sharing agreements with nine autonomous territories — all cushy parking lots for illegal money. Bermuda Islands, British Virgin Islands, Cayman Islands, Gibraltar, Guernsey, Isle of Man, Jersey, the Netherlands, Antilles and Macau have been more than just holiday destinations for affluent Indians.
Negotiations are currently on with 64 more countries, says a senior finance ministry official. The information exchange agreement with Switzerland — a political hot potato — could also materialise soon. Sources in the ministry say the move followed recent demands by influential lobbyist Economiesuisse, which asked the Swiss government to disclose the names of the tax evaders.
Laundering of money will now become a great deal tougher
Last year, Switzerland agreed to renegotiate a host of tax treaties with other nations while brokering a deal with Washington to hand over confidential data of UBS clients. But the trillion-dollar question is whether the measures that have been taken so far are good enough. KR Girish, partner, direct taxes at KPMG — a major think tank — is sceptical, saying: “At the moment it is premature to say whether tax collections will be augmented and money laundering mitigated. But yes, the measures could greatly help in tracking the actual source of foreign direct investment and the entities behind it.”
Jagdish Shettigar, Convenor of BJP’s Economic Cell, however, doubts that the initiative will yield results. “The best remedy is to block the creation of black money. Lowering of property tax, income tax, and public funding of elections would substantially reduce the creation of black money in the first place,” Shettigar argues. Brave words — but who will turn the words into deed?
Writer’s Email: abhishek.anand@fwtehelka.com
The next big thing
Want to be a little ahead of the curve in the art world? Five hot curators pick the young artists to keep your eye on
What does sarah Jessica Parker, star of the never-ending Sex and the City franchise have to do with art? As of this month, a lot. Parker has successfully put together Work of Art — a reality show designed on the lines of Project Runway and Top Chef in which a dozen young artists will compete before a panel of judges. It is the fullest flowering of our desire to have no one famous sneak up on us. Celebrity must be achieved between commercials under our watchful eyes. one can wait and see if the show creates new fans for what is still perceived as an opaque subculture. If it does, then it will bring artists back to the popular gaze in a way that they have not been for a very long time. Perhaps not since the 1860s when all of Paris — from workman to aristocrat — paid a franc each to attend the government-organised annual salon. The fiercely competitive salon could make or break an artist’s reputation and ended in parties, suicides and duels. a reality show can only dream of such riches. In the real world, us moderately interested members of the public try to piece together what is happening in the Indian art world. our curators have their own hopeful vision of the change round the corner, the blazing talent walking down the street. It could be this girl animating double helixes in a corner or the boy weaving his mother’s hair. Perhaps even that old-fashioned thing — a painter. We asked five curators to pick their favourites and tell us why. (Inputs from Aastha Atray Banan, Rishi Majumder and Nisha Susan)
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ALKA PANDE PICKS
Tarun Jung Rawat Works with mixed media. Rawat, 36, is steeped in interaction design, fairytales and Edgar Allan Poe
TARUN IS the only sensitive and creative artist working with interaction design,” says Delhi-based curator Alka Pande.
Rawat’s work is influenced by fairytales and writers such as Edgar Allan Poe and Roald Dahl. His recent show was bafflingly named Never Mind the Bullfish, here’s a spot of T— an involved reference to the Sex Pistols and himself —but his work has simple and accessible themes like the girl child, freedom or self expression. His technological homage lies in the use of hidden sensors and moving kinetics embedded in his art which make the work move as a viewer approaches it. “He combines modern electronics and technologies with hand work and traditional colours to create a very fresh and new kind of mixed media. He has evolved a new pictorial language that consists of fables and stories. His imagery is extremely allegorical,” says Pande who admires his strong graphic language. Two of Rawat’s works have recently been acquired for their permanent collection by the Essl Museum at Vienna, a very prominent museum for contemporary art. Pande demurs from talking about how Rawat is doing in the market. “I can’t put a value on his art. Creativity and prices don’t always go hand in hand, especially the big art market bubble which was there two years ago no longer exists.”
OTHER PICK “I also like Akshay Rathore’s work,” says Pande. Rathore trained in Baroda and works with vector illustration, animation, glass sculpture, and lenticular printing. His recent show When She is Away explored the themes of violence. “He works with contemporary media. The future of art lies in exploring such new media,” insists Pande.
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LATHIKA GUPTA PICKS
Rohini Devasher Devasher, 31, explores the space between science and art. Works with multiple media including digital prints, drawing and video
I THINK Rohini Devashar has got incredibly solid training and is technically very sound, and that will really take her ahead,’ says Delhi-based curator Lathika Gupta. ‘I think Rohini Devasher has got incredibly solid training and is technically very sound, and that will really take her ahead. One of her solo shows ranged from showcasing a huge site-specific drawing and prints to a video piece, for which the data was collected via video feedback which occurs when a camera is plugged into a TV and a loop is created between the two. The result is an astonishing array of patterns that emerge spontaneously within the feedback loop, mimicking biological life — tree, plant and cell structures. In Bloodlines, a video and print installation, she creates an family tree of artificial life forms.” Trained in painting and print-making, Devasher’s work explores the ambiguous spaces between science and art or as Gupta says more succintly, ‘She is a science freak’. She is interviewing astronomers asking what draws them to the night sky and exploring the sub-culture of eclipse-chasers. Gupta adds, “Rohini is also doing well commercially — she has buyers that include everyone from the young Delhi art aficionado to American museums.” Devasher’s prints are priced at Rs 2.5 to Rs 3 lakhs.
OTHER PICK Gupta also likes the young artist Shine Shivan. She says, “Shivan is a taxidermist, who makes costumes out of carcasses — he made one out of the ribcage of a horse and uses stuff like his mother’s hair and cowdung in his installations. It’s crazy but he has so much passion.
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NANCY ADAJANIA PICKS
CAMP
Shaina Anand (35) Ashok Sukumaran (36) and Sanjay Bhangar (27).
Together they hate the word ‘collective’ and work with everything
THE ART BOOM and the slump that followed have occluded from our vision the real criteria which make for greatness in Indian art,” says Mumbai-based critic and curator Nancy Adajania. “The media circus has lionised individual artists and forgotten the value of intellectual and cultural capital that art provides its audiences. The next big wave of Indian artists will be collectives like CAMP. CAMP which consists of Shaina Anand, Ashok Sukumaran and Sanjay Bhangar actively attempts to shape the public sphere through dialogue and debate rather than be content with creating commodities for the gallery system. Their work revolves around the politics of resource sharing — like water and electricity.” CAMP loves creating relationships with neighbourhoods. In 2007, for a whole month they hung an electric switch on a tree in Khar, Mumbai. The sign said, ‘This switch allows you to turn on the lights of Flat 23 of the building across.’ Everytime a curious passerby pressed the switch, Anand or Sukumaran would wave from their balcony. “From 2008, they have been working in Jogeshwari to discuss questions related to the right to water, water tanker politics and the dilemma of access to civic infrastructure,” says Adajania. In 2009, CAMP won the Grand Jury award at the Sharjah Biennale, a project which looked at dhows leaving Sharjah for Somalia, offering a way to rethink global capital.
OTHER PICKS Desire Machine Collective (Sonal Jain and Mrigank Madhukaillya), a group based in Guwahati.
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PRATEEK RAJA PICKS
Otolith group
Anjalika Sagar, 40, and Kodwo Eshun, 43, work with video. Their work is dominated by themes of Third World movements
WE THINK THE Otolith Group, who will be showing at our gallery in December, is totally hot,” says Prateek and Priyanka Raja of the Experimenter gallery in Kolkata. In May, the video artist duo Anjalika Sagar and Kodwo Eshun were nominated for the £40,000 Turner Prize, one of the art world’s most glamorous prizes. The Turner prize judges praised their ability ‘to work collaboratively across a range of disciplines, in particular the moving image, to investigate overlooked histories through archival and documentary materials.’ Prateek says, “Their work is different, as their cross referencing is amazing. They use archival footage that’s never been used. For example, they once used a recently declassified video to explored the diplomatic relationship between India and Russia.” The Otolith Group’s work has been admired by critics for its approach that can be ‘playful as well as unflinchingly erudite’.
OTHER PICK: “We think Sanchayan Ghosh is a talent worth watching out for.” says Prateek Raja. Ghosh is a site-specific installation artist who uses light and sound to make the audience a part of his work. In one of his works, Sisyphus Effect, the intensity of the light changes based on the movement of the people in the room. While the Kolkata-based Ghosh makes critics in some quarters peevish because of the involved references in his works, others admire his ability to stick his neck out. At least one critic expressed her delight at the body-builder who was part of his Sisyphus Effect installation.
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RANJIT HOSKOTE PICKS
Nikhil Chopra
Chopra, 35, is a performance artist whose work includes tableaux of early British imperial photography
A CRUCIAL MIX of factors will determine who the ‘next big artist’ on the Indian art scene will be,” says cultural theorist and independent curator Ranjit Hoskote. First: the sustained backing of galleries and foundations for the production of art with no immediate commercial returns. Second: the belief of bold collectors both at home and abroad in such work, without expectations of instant returns. Third: the catalytic role of curators in presenting and contextualising such artistic departures internationally. And fourth: acceptance for such artistic positions in the global art arena. Using these criteria, he picked performance artist Nikhil Chopra as someone who has the potential to achieve that major leap in the next few years. “Chopra revisits his ancestral past through elaborate performances, testing the limits of his endurance in situations that are simultaneously private and social,” says Hoskote. In 2009, at an exhibition curated by Marina Abramov, the grand dame of performance art, Chopra played an array of personas from a Victorian dandy called Yog Raj Chitrakar, a Maharaja and a loin-cloth clad ‘native’. More recently he left Mumbai artists bemused with Drum Solo, the performance of a celibrity rockstar.
OTHER PICKS Gigi Scaria, Manjunath Kamath and Rohini Devasher.
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The sting bride
Rani Tiwari had spent seven years failing to meet fat dowry demands. Then inspired by Tehelka she decided to end the greed, says Aastha Atray Banan
Photo: Hashim Badani
RANI TIWARI has been flooded with marriage proposals lately — 42 to be exact. But Rani’s sudden popularity has nothing to do with her stunning looks or charming personality. In fact all her suitors have seen of her is a blurred out photograph in the newspapers, or the small figure with a dupatta draped over her face on their TV screens. Rani is the girl who caught her would-be in laws asking for dowry on camera, and now is fighting a case against them.
The petite girl from Gorakhpur maintains a brave demeanour as she sits in her tiny Mulund home, telling her story again and again, her frame slightly stooping, and then drawing up again confidently. Her resolve is apparent, “Even if I have to fight the case for 15 years and at the end they only get to spend a month in prison, I am still going to keep at it. I didn’t do this to prove anything to anybody, just to uphold my dignity.”
Six months ago, in December, the Tiwari family was approached by a pandit, who recommended Nikhilesh Pathak as a groom for Rani. The Tiwaris have been trying to get their only daughter Rani, now in her late 20s, married for seven years now; only to be rejected each time because of their inability to give dowry. They were still optimistic that this match might work out. The Pathaks like them,were UP Brahmins. The father, Suresh, was a government officer while the groom and sisters all worked at call centres. “They looked like a decent family,” says Rani in a wry tone. Her brother Deepak, sighs, “We first did a ceremony to formalise the relationship, where we gave Rs 50,000. But the Pathaks asked for Rs 1 lakh more. And then another 2 lakh 50 thousand for the tilak ceremony. We gave it all. We also bought them clothes and jewellery.” Rani interrupts, “It was not just the money and gifts that we gave them on the ceremonies. The boy’s sister took me shopping, and actually forced me to buy her a sari for Rs 15,000. ”
But the worst was yet to come. Soon after, the father of the groom called and demanded a car. Rani’s voice cracks, “That was the first time I saw my father cry. And that’s the day I decided, that I was going to not take this anymore,” she says, modestly adding that her idea to conduct a sting was inspired by the TEHELKA Defence sting. Her family objected strongly. But Rani was adamant and finally they caved in. “We knew that this marriage was not going to happen now. Though our father had said that if they ask for a Nano, we will try and give it,” says Deepak, who reveals that the family had sold whatever ancestral land they had and borrowed money to fulfil the demands so far.
Deepak recorded all subsequent meetings on a camera pen. “In the tape, which is shot at the boy’s home, you’ll see the boy saying he wants a Swift. The mother says they had bought parking space in their compound and had been waiting to get their son married to get a car!” The Pathaks added new furniture for their daughters’ rooms to the demands.
Although the sting was successful, the days leading up to it were fraught with strife. The Tiwaris were scared of getting caught and worried about being alienated by their community. “But the police won’t register a case of dowry before marriage without proof. So we gave them the proof they wanted,” says Deepak.
The groom and his father were arrested at first, but are now out on bail. They have since made threats to Rani, saying that they would throw acid on her. “They have daughters of their own. Didn’t they ever think what would happen if grooms treated them like that?” asks Rani.
‘In the tape the boy’s mother says they had bought parking space and had been waiting for their son to get married to get a car,’ says Tiwari
Rani, had wanted to be a journalist after she graduated, but that didn’t quite work out. “My parents didn’t think I was cut out for the job of a journalist, so I worked as ground staff for an airlines company for a while. But I think I always had the drive.” Rani’s led the kind of double life that many Indian girls are familiar with. She changed her clothes in the office to neither offend her family nor stick out like a sore thumb at work. Working at a call centre for Rs 6,000 a month, she never thought love marriage was an option. “Our family has always had problems I got caught up in. Also, maybe deep inside, I knew that even if I did fall in love, it won’t be allowed.”
But her very conservative family has stood by her through this big act of rebellion. Her courageous act has also forced her to shed her shyness and face the media. One gets the feeling she does want to set an example, especially because she belongs to a community where rebellion is not welcome. “I did curse the fact that I was a UP Brahmin many times. I also thought of committing suicide. After the sting, I was sure we would have to shift to somewhere, where no one knew us. But the support of the mohalla, my colleagues, neighbours, family and now the public in general has been amazing,” she says with a hint of pride.
There might be 42 grooms vying for her attention now, but Rani is unsure of whom she wants to be with. She also seems wary, as if counting the minutes before a good thing turns bad. “I have not stepped out of the house for months now, because I am scared someone will attack me. All this has made me tired and faithless. I am not sure I will find a husband who will understand that I need to see this through. I plan to fight till they are taught a lesson. The whole ordeal has wiped my mind clean — I can’t even think of what kind of a marriage I want. I just want a happy family who will keep me happy,” she says and one suddenly sees Rani for who she really is — a hurt and frustrated middle class girl who has got a chance to make a difference, and more importantly, a chance to be heard, seen and to matter. This time, she will be the one to choose and reject — she’s earned it.
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Nagpada’s hoop dreams
In which a poor Mumbai mohalla and a gang of Muslim girls conquer the basketball courts. Aastha Atray Banan tells the story
Photos: Hashim Badani
AFSANA MANSOORI, 16, looks out of place in her 4 by 4 shack in Nagpada. The leggy girl is dressed in shorts, a tee and sneakers. Next to her, her mother, who works as a domestic help at one of Mumbai’s skyscraper residences, appears diminutive. Their shack — one of many in the tiny lanes of this south Mumbai neighbourhood — is divided vertically by a plank, splitting it into a living room-kitchen and bedroom. Afsana, who is getting ready to cook dinner, describes her everyday routine in a matter-of-fact voice. After school, she cooks lunch for herself, her mother and brother. Her father died years ago. She then heads out to help her tired mother scrub floors and utensils at other homes till late into the evening.
Back home, before cooking dinner and watching a little television, Afsana pursues a hobby — and now potential career — that has left many astounded. Afsana plays basketball for the quirkily-named Nagpada Basketball Association, in short the NBA. “Basketball makes me feel different, that I am not just any other girl. I feel a sense of worth every time I shoot a basket. It started off just as a hobby, but now it’s a way of life. What would Afsana be without basketball?” she grins broadly.
The Colaba girls with their coloured hair were no match for the Bata shoe-stomping Nagpada girls who ran like the wind
One look at her team and you know change is around the corner in this largely Muslim neighbourhood. The Bobcats (as the girls like to call themselves, fashioned after the famous Charlotte Bobcats, a team owned by the legendary Michael Jordan) or the Nagpada Neighbourhood House (NNH) team (as they are known professionally) is made up of 12 Muslim girls. Formed around three years ago, the team holds up Nagpada’s reputation as the centre of basketball in India. The NNH basketball court — one of Nagpada’s two courts — is where the girls play. Every day the girls begin at 7 pm and practice late into the night. And it shows. A game organised as part of a NBA (this being the talent-hunting National Basketball Association from America) league tournament was eyeopening. The girls were pitted against a team from Colaba, and won without much of a fight. The Colaba girls with their coloured hair, Nike sneakers and short shorts were no match for the oiled hair, Bata shoe-stomping Nagpada girls, who ran like the wind. Whenever the players were caught in a scuffle, the Colaba ‘chicks’ yelled “F***!”, while the Nagpada girls had toothy smiles that seemed to ask, “What did she just say?”
How did this sport — accessible to the rich who can afford the wooden courts and healthy diets — become popular among Nagpada girls. As Abdul Khan, president of the NBA, says, “It’s because these girls have immense drive. Recently, there was a tournament in Nagpur. We could only afford to send one team, so we decided to send the boys. But the girls told me they just had to go. They paid for their train tickets, and that’s a lot of money for them. But it speaks volumes about their dedication.”
NAGPADA (ONCE home to the infamous Dawood Ibrahim) has given the country some of its finest basketball players — among others Abbas Moontasir, who captained India in 1975 when it stood fourth in the Asian Championships. Nagpada’s journey to being the heart of basketball in India started in the 1940s. “An American gentleman, Mr Longfellow became the director of the NNH which had focussed until then on volleyball. But his American passion for basketball overhauled the system. In 1953, Nagpada won a national tournament, and thus started the revolution. It’s like the story of Shivaji Park in Mumbai. Since Sachin Tendulkar emerged from there, every child from Shivaji Park wants to be a cricketer. Nagpada adopted basketball,” says Moontasir. “India needs to take basketball seriously. It’s still neglected,” he says despondently.
But his disappointment is to be expected. India’s love affair with basketball has at best been indifferent. The sport was first played in India in 1930. The first National Championship for men was conducted in 1934 in New Delhi, and the Basketball Federation of India was formed in 1950. “It still hasn’t picked up in India and is restricted to places like Kapurthala, Nagpada and Bhilai,” says Shankhajweet De, a filmmaker whose next movie traces the history of basketball in India. “The golden era was during the 1970s. Now our teams take part in international tournaments, but don’t get anywhere. But if you make it to a state team or national team, you get a government job, and that’s a great incentive.” BFI’s Maharashtra unit vice-president, Ibrahim Lakadwala, agrees, “Jobs are assured for girls who make it to the state or national teams. India now has many small tournaments. We just had the firstof- its-kind league tournament in Nagpada, where players were divided into clubs, and Rs 1 lakh was given as prize.”
It is something the Nagpada girls are aware of. When you see the girls on the court, their palpable energy draws you in. Off-court, though they work hard, they are also strangely content with what they have. When they discuss Michael Jordan, a team favourite, or talk about dreamy Hrithik or laugh about having boyfriends, they seem to belong on another planet — one where money doesn’t dictate happiness. But money is a big factor. Afsana’s mother Zainab, who was hugely upset when, at 13, her daughter joined the team, expresses pride now. “We came to Mumbai 30 years ago from Bihar. Since my husband died, I have worked hard to send my kids to school. I just want Afsana to stand on her feet.”
Rashid says, ‘I don’t become less of a Muslim because I let my daughters play basketball. One has to move with the times’
Her teammates, Afrin Sheikh (16) and her sister Sumaiya (14), live 500 metres away from Afsana’s house in a slightly larger shack — home to six — in the courtyard of a chawl. Their father, Rashid, drives a taxi and mother is a housewife. The girls have realised that their love for basketball could take them out of the neighbourhood. “We want to get good jobs through basketball, and we know we can. We see the boys playing, and we think, why can’t we? Basketball defines us,” says Afrin in her cramped hut. Her father Rashid was once a basketball player. “I am living my dreams through my daughters. I don’t become any less of a Muslim just because I let my daughters play. One has to move with the times,” he says. He knows the NNH hears complaints every few days from conservative quarters about the girls wearing shorts and being watched by men as they play. NBA president Abdul Khan says, “We tell them we are ensuring nothing untoward happens. These girls need a chance to prove themselves.”
NOT EVERYONE is so supportive. Sana Sheikh, a frail, pretty 16-year-old, who is one of the team’s ace shooters, says, “My mother is annoyed by my wearing shorts. My parents want me to quit and may get me married after class 12.” Sana’s father Yusuf’s only means of income are bets at Mumbai’s race courses, and though he is proud of his son making it to the national basketball camp, he is unsure of his daughter’s fate. “She is playing for now, let’s see what happens,” he says with goldtoothed smile. If she doesn’t start earning, it may be the end for Sana’s basketball dreams. “Her parents are too conservative, and it’s sad because she is one of the best players we have,” says the captain of the team, Sumaiya Sayed, who stays in the same building as Afrin, but on the second floor — a sign in this locality that her family has more money. Her father Sayed works in construction, and she attends one of South Mumbai’s better colleges. “At first, my parents didn’t want me to play, as this area is known for its slums and a notorious crowd. But they know basketball makes me happy,” says the 17-year-old who unlike the other girls, plans to head to Manipal to pursue a medical degree.
But Afsana only has basketball. She says, “I want to become a referee. That gets respect. It will also ensure I am attached to the sport for a long time.” She pauses, “I hope I can get a job with the railways. I need to get out of here.”
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