Report and photos by Raju G. Mendez
The Autobiography written by Dhanuja, a member of the Haritha Karma Sena in Thiruvananthapuram, is not just her own story; it is also the story of the Chenkal Choola where she grew up and played.
A ‘Clutter’ of the soft-hearted and thoughtful brains, no matter how audacious they might sound and how malodorous they might be felt; under all their matted hair and dirty fingernails, clothes not purified by washing and talks tainted by a measure of bluster; there radiate certain values that instill their spirit of renaissance.
Every moment in her throbbing heart, there arose the glimpses of glory that awaited them. She needed to change their perspective on their lives.
Ms.Dhanuja ‘a lone wolf’ in ‘Rajaji Nagar’ Thiruvananthapuram; is a proponent of different outlooks, which could often lead to innovative solutions and valuable, unique perspectives. Dhanuja for a living, took up the job of plastic waste disposal unit ‘Haritha Karma Sena’ in and around Thiruvananthapuram city, under the project of ‘Clean Kerala Mission’
Talking to Newspolitik.com she started sentences, then forgot to finish them as she jumped from topic to topic in a little nervous mood.
Often as not, she would force herself to be inside, in silence and solitude, the place not too crowded, regaling her stories, that would give her something worthwhile to chew for a while.
“I wish them all to walk hand in hand, breaking the shackles of individual political affinity and thereby standing united for the common causes of the community as a whole and let all legal quagmire soon be eliminated,” she said giving vent to her frustration and disappointment.
The air was warm but a slight breeze brushed past causing her hair whipping her face. She closed her eyes, caressed her head, took a deep breath, and filled her lungs with fresh air.
Everybody here thinks it would be a great idea to fall right next to her to leap forward so that no outside heresy would learn what aces are up their sleeves and to embrace the glimpses of glory being anticipated.
Her childhood or teen days had no any chance to indulge herself with great writers except for some malayalam mediocre weeklies which used to be the Bible of common people. Now a regular subscriber she is, to the magazines and newspapers, scavenging herself for finding truth, holding on to it, after she had got her book ‘CHENKAL CHOOLAYILEY ENTEY JEEVITHAM'( MY LIFE IN KILN)titled and published by ‘Chintha Publications’ in her indigenous style of slang in Malayalam, the language, a nest at the core of her heart. She is trying to get her head around the reality. Earlier, she loved nothing but to speak at length about their colorful exploits. As the saying goes,
“The one who speaks is strong!
The one who reads is stronger!
The one who writes is the strongest, Dhanuja is!
While Dhanuja, talking to newspolitik.com, people overflowed from the ‘condo’, their residential unit, each individually owned by them, onto the streets, upbeat music vibrating from every house, mixing to form a weird electric sound. Sights of fish and vegetable vendors’ bargaining sounds and smells pervading, stray dogs an accompaniment roaming here and there, crows in flock hovering overhead for their share of livelihoods, meddling with the Ràjaji Nagar pet cats snooping around and secretly devouring their fresh catches; loud laughter, clinking glasses and singing coming from every direction. The road front was crowded with trade unions, and auto drivers, being their prime occupation, also undertaking other missions entrusted by their affluent bosses, all a vanguard of the territory, hung out in groups verbally wrangling one another hard to validate their ‘hard-yearned general knowledge’ mostly on social issues, also to convince passers-by consolidating their hegemony of geographical, territorial supremacy of their ‘self-governed empire’ Rajaji Nagar’ historically known as ‘Chenkal Choola’ stretched out between the radius of Oottukuzhy and Housing board junctions, down line behind Secretariate, Thiruvananthapuram.
Immediately, as she instinctively peeped out of the window she couldn’t but only laugh at how ridiculous this all seemed and her brain went into overdrive as she tried to figure out answers to herself to the questions raised about their financial stability, sophistication, and refinement.
She covered her mouth and tried to smother her grotesque laughs as she could feel the ground pulsating beneath her.
“Nothing has changed in their life, I’ve no exciting news about them not even any normal news to tell anybody, never mind,” She said to News Politik.com, almost fed up!
She smelled not of her culineries or working stink, but of greater, innovative thoughts and ideas hardwired to redeem her community.
This is an important time in her life; she knows she should be there for them.
The residents still hesitant in their hearts, waver in thoughts. They are ambiguous about the right direction and decision needed to make a change. Everyone has always assumed she would do it first, which is the flip side of their optimism.
Their little ones were taught in the “treadmill” of skills enhancement for both their mental and physical well-being, to become greater warriors in the days to come. More than putting their children in the best schools, they train them how to climb and jump, to tumble and fall, to twist and leap, to balance, until they land on their feet when their arms would reach out to hold their heads high! An art of living!
After a few months of tirelessly going at it, she is out of breath now To her dismay, they were even further out than they had been before. However, she exudes a healthy fierce competitive spirit that propels her desire to win.
They, the youths here, have recently become the scapegoats of the drug mafia, fallen for the hawkers who wooed them to go astray to make easy and quick money, against which ‘a one woman army’ Dhanuja fights tooth and nail resembling what Agustín Ramos Calero during World War II did.
Everything, every item that had happened here has a history. They still cling to the bitterness of the past memories of suffering and impoverishment that had once devilishly surrounded RAJAJI NAGAR!
“We have found no reason to rely on the ever-changing governments any longer. Whether to take it to the street, or withdraw and seclude ourselves to the shells of the past?” she expressed her anxiety in anguish to News Politik.com.
She groaned and headed back to her seat letting out a long sigh of despair, but said “Don’t worry”! light-heartedly to ease the situation.
Dhanuja had distanced herself from everyone when she was younger. She never shared exciting thoughts with them, not even, how her mentally distressing days went searching for the like-minded. She was just full of facts, just facts, and more facts. Later, she and her ideologies tiptoed silently over to the rest of the shacks and people to further strengthen her mission but still count on the desired result, hopefully. Miles and miles to go before she sleeps!.
She still has her miserable days getting out of the ordinary. But the excitement of her mission spurred on.
“It’s a long hike, but we’ll get there if we just keep putting one foot in front of the other”. She said confidently.It can also mean to keep moving forward despite setbacks.
“Don’t blame us for having to get our job happily done” in nonchalant disagreement with the low-empathetic mindset of the public, she reminded.
“Dirty, unclean, filthy, grubby, grimy, black, soiled, and muddy downtrodden in terms of gender, immigration status, ethnicity, or caste, ever vulnerable to abuses by those belonging to the snobbish elite classes”.
Every daylight, robed in the kind of typical dress in rags they never wished to wear, march on foot daring the hot sun or downpour, climbing up and down, turning left and right, street to street and door to door, prodding targeted piles of wastes, a treasure trove of diseases, injuries, respiratory problems, musculoskeletal disorders, digestive issues, fatigue and headache, skin irritation, eye problems
dizziness, nausea, asthma, loss of breathing, malnutrition, anemia, and tuberculosis.
More often than not, they frequent what looks like garage doors and press against the heavy gates with their shoulders, enter into enclosed courtyards, cluttered and rundown and overlooked apartments on all sides while recklessly throwing out scattered items on the streets further aggravating their ordeal.
Eventually, they feel tired and rundown by themselves. In the dusk, fatigued, dragging their feet they tread back to their penthouses filled with joy and happiness. A grant celebration of community life.
Women have long been at the forefront of waste collection in cities where informal waste picking is prevalent and are often responsible for household waste segregation and collection, sorting, and recycling paper and plastics, significant to the initial stages of the waste management process, employed through a diversity of organizations.
Nevertheless, their significant social service is looked down upon by many still as ‘menial’denying the ‘dignity ‘ it deserves, yielding neither tangible nor intangible profit for a dignified living.
“Despite ideological differences, our community is a source of inspiration and has played a significant role in shaping who I am today. The diverse perspectives and experiences within my community have broadened my horizons and challenged my assumptions. Thus I could pen down my thoughts, feelings, and experiences and get them compiled and got it published motivated by P P Sathyan and Anuja both comrades of Chintha Publications in Thiruvananthapuram. My greatest achievement in life is that the book has been recognized as a part of study materials for graduate students at Calicut University”.
“Ultimately my community that gave me confidence and encouragement to pursue my passions and overcome obstacles, is my strength. It accelerated me with a sense of belonging to grab growth opportunities. I wonder how strong one’s community can empower individuals and create positive change. In my opinion, the community is the backbone of society, and I am incredibly fortunate to be a part of such a vibrant and inclusive community.” A soft heart and thoughtful brain they do possess!
Dhanuja in pride said “The ever-flourishing hypocrisy that runs through the modern society least influences us, not to say, even a feather touch of it is beyond anybody’s imagination. We wine and dine
laugh, make merry, fight physically, manhandle, question, advise correct, and guide but only among ourselves. Each moment is noisy here, you don’t believe, which we enjoy, and silence seems dreadful. Everything that takes place is known to everyone along the unbreakable thread of mutual care and love that runs through our blood.
No single person in Rajaji Nagar escapes our constant vigil. Each one is known well among ourselves for one’s inborn character and nature. We are by nature frank, candid, and open in expressing our strong emotions, and feelings, and that is what the significance of community life but we are invincibly defensive against hypocrites.”
It sounded like one Jhansi Rani, Dhanuja Kumari herself is a ‘Rajaji Nagar Rani’.
“Life is truly known only to those who suffer, lose, endure adversity and stumble from defeat to defeat” (Anais Nin, a French-American Diarist and Essayist)
However, Dhanuja stumbled from defeat not to defeat but to success!.The life of Dhanuja has been to burning, baking, and drying in the brickyard, a life of hardships to get molded by herself for a purpose unique in itself.
