feeds from sacw.net
print versionKamla Bhasin (24 April 1946 - 25 September 2021)
My friend Kamla Bhasin
by Dr V. Rukmini Rao
I first met Kamla in the late 70s , when she came to visit the National Labour Institute. She invited me to stay with her in Bangkok when I visited and since then, we have remained friends. We may not have always agreed and maintained the same perspectives, but we could work together smoothly.
Kamla had the quality to draw in people with her charisma, her obvious love of life and fun side. Kamla was an evolving learning person all her life and contributed her learning generously to all around her.
While our journey together started by addressing violence against women, she worked to promote adolescent girls rights, and in Sangat training programs she specially invited me to address environmental issues. She worked on many other issues, health, sensitizing men, promoting democracy and others. Kamla did not believe in national boundaries. Having been born on the other side of the border before partition, she promoted Peace in the region and saw herself as a South Asian. She dreamed of a united South Asia on the lines of the European Union.
Kamla lived the slogan, the personal is political. When her daughter Meeto was born, she started writing nursery rhymes describing that girls were equal to boys. When she faced personal family crisis, she discussed how our suggestions of going to courts for justice did not work. She changed her inputs into her training accordingly. Kamla had a grasp of current social structures, therefore she invited influencers to South Asian feminist training programs be it government officials from the Maldives, media representatives or potential women political leaders in the region.]
Much will be written about her contribution to the women’s movement, but I would like to share the essential Kamla. She nutured friendships over generations,she turned her personal crises into opportunities for learning for all, she was strong and loving. She did not hesitate to apologize if she was wrong. Kamla quickly became the life spirit of every meeting she organized. She sang feminist songs she had written, and more recently only spoke and wrote in hindi. She could get everyone to move quickly and galvanized all women, young and old with the slogan, " Hum leke rahenge Azadi"..... we will take our freedom .
And she taught women to be spirited and free, teaching them to wolf whistle to gain attention. When she was in hospital she continued to worry about developments in Afghanistan and how to support young women who needed to leave or confront the taliban. A feminist to the end, my friend Kamla Bhasin - Rukmini Rao
o o
Kamlaben Bhasin’s contributions to the women’s movement have been immense. From song and dance, to storytelling and movement-building. We will remember you. Members of our domestic workers cooperative singing a song, which she wrote.
— SEWA Cooperative Federation (@SEWAFed) September 25, 2021
https://twitter.com/SEWAFed/status/1441706699971203073?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw
o o
How Kamla Bhasin made South Asian feminism a force
Urvashi Butalia writes: She built institutions and solidarities with her unusual feminist weapons — laughter, songs, slogans and art
Written by Urvashi Butalia
Updated: September 27, 2021
At Kamla Bhasin’s funeral on Saturday, people stood silently as her sister, Bina, performed the last rites. Shortly after, a young woman began a “conversation” with Kamla, addressing her as if she were still alive. Words turned into song and soon the entire gathering of feminist activists — working-class, elite, religious, non-religious, old, young and others whose lives Kamla had touched, broke into song.
As Kamla’s favourite songs, many that have become anthems for the women’s movement, rang out across the cremation ground, people tapped their feet, clapped their hands, swayed to the rhythm and then, gradually, fell silent. A group of women — her close friends, her beloved relatives — then lifted her and took her in for her last departure. Inside they raised slogans, those she had shouted in so many feminist gatherings, and once again they sang songs of farewell and love.
Ever since her aggressive cancer was diagnosed three months ago, Kamla knew she did not have long to live and joked often of the bulawa that was imminent. In hospital, on what was to be her last day, she fought energetically to live, and demanded that her hair be blow-dried, her toenails painted. Back home the next day, the life now gone out of her, her face still held her characteristic smile, mischief lurking at its edges.
It was some 40 years ago that Kamla Bhasin arrived on the feminist scene in Delhi. In one of our early encounters at an anti-dowry protest, she brought along her husband and daughter — at the time an infant — and they soon became a constant feature of our marches.
Later, in our street play, Om Swaha, she became the sutradhar, energetically sounding the damru, laughingly making up nonsense rhymes to invite bystanders and curious onlookers into the play, disarmingly making spontaneous comments on now a shirt, now a dupatta, making them feel special. I think it was perhaps that moment that turned her into the ace communicator she was to become later in life, talking with equal ease to a grassroots worker or an international official.
At the time, she had a day job with the Food and Agricultural Organisation, and her offices were located inside the UN building in Delhi, an unlikely locale for a woman who was much more at home spinning and rocking on her feet in the streets. But it was the South Asian regional remit of that job that Kamla would return to in her activist years, to build enduring solidarities and friendships across the South Asian region, and to make South Asian feminism a force.
She did this through her formidable and unusual “arsenal” of feminist weapons: Laughter, joy, friendship, songs, slogans, art, dance, books and so much more. She organised — often with the dancer Chandralekha — some of the early feminist poster-making workshops. In one of these was created the iconic poster that announced the arrival of her particular brand of feminist math: One-plus-one equals 11.
She set up institutions and campaigns: Jagori, of which she was an integral part, Sangat, through which she shared feminist concepts with less privileged women, One Billion Rising, a campaign that attempted to show that the numbers of women demanding their rights ran into billions.
Her enthusiasm and commitment to the women’s movement — her home and her belonging — meant that even personal tragedies, the loss of her young daughter, the lifelong illness of her son, did not deter her and she bounced back from each one, the laughter intact on her face, the hurt hidden in her heart. One of her favourite coinages was: “One does not fall in love, one rises in love” — something that was the truth of her life. Many such were shared privately with her feminist comrades amid much laughter: “Mary conceived without sinning, oh Lord let me sin without conceiving”, “We don’t want copper-T, we want proper T” and a song, “Amma dekh, amma dekh, teri movement bigda jaye”!
Kamla’s life was also a testament to that most precious of things that feminism across the world has given us: The strength of female friendships. When a powerful critique was mounted against her on social media for statements she made on trans issues, it was her close group of friends that rallied round her and helped her understand the harm her words could do.
It was these same friends, spread across different cities and countries, who came together when her illness was diagnosed to help her sort out her affairs — the most important of which was the care of her son — and who created a roster of weekly support, putting their lives on hold to be with her full time as carers for that period. To be able to so generously give of the immense store of love that you have, and to be its recipient in equal measure, was something that came effortlessly to Kamla.
In our patriarchal world, the passing of a feminist life is rarely seen as a loss to society. In the last few months, we have seen several such departures: Gail Omvedt without whose writings and activism our understanding of caste would have been so much poorer; Sonal Shukla, who, like Kamla, made fun, reading, song, dance, and learning the central plank of her work; Rati Bartholomew, who gave her life to theatre. And Kamla herself.
They leave behind a world, more specifically the world of the women’s movement, both enriched and impoverished. Enriched by the lives they fully and generously gave to it and impoverished by the loss of so much more that they had to give.
This column first appeared in the print edition on September 25, 2021 under the title ‘Singing like a feminist’. The writer is publisher, Zubaan
o o
Nandita Das: My fearless friend Kamla Bhasin believed in shaking the status quo with joy
She taught me, and many others, that the world could be in a better place with poetry, stories, songs and laughter.
by Nandita Das
[September 27, 2021]
I first met Kamla Bhasin at the office of a women’s organisation in Delhi – Jagori or Sakhi, I cannot recall. What I remember is that it was a room full of feisty women, of all ages. Though the feistiest, loudest and the most joyous of them all, was Kamla. I was 18 and she was almost 25 years older than me. But she was simply Kamla to all.
Fresh out of college, doing street theatre, I truly believed that she was changing the world. And she was. Inspiring women to speak up, instilling a sense of purpose in her fellow activists and shaking the status quo around her with joy and an unwavering focus. That was the free-spirited Kamla and she didn’t change till her last breath on Saturday, September 25.
Today I am glad that the foundation of my social commitment was nurtured by Kamla, whose activism wasn’t angry or didactic. She taught me, and many others, that the world could be in a better place with poetry, stories, songs and laughter.
Over the years, our paths crossed every now and then, at morchas, rallies, meetings and gatherings. She formed Sangat, a feminist network and brought people together. She connected me with so many amazing women from around the world. All those who were deeply committed to the cause of gender equality and justice.
Around the same time, both of us were part of an initiative called the South Asians for Human Rights. Many of the idealists that led it are now gone – Kuldip Nayar, Asma Jehangir, IK Gujral, Nirmala Deshpande, IR Rehman and now Kamla Bhasin. She spearheaded many other initiatives, including One Billion Rising. But she was equally comfortable being a footsoldier, cheering from the sidelines. Her slogan shouting would fill us with josh, the kind of enthusiasm that makes you fearless.
When things got grim and we would shrink into helplessness, Kamla, with her indomitable courage and incorrigible wit, would infuse everyone with hope. She would start singing, laughing and energising people around her. It was contagious. No one could ever forget her if they met her even once. She would always call, message or email, if she saw anything about me. And invariably it started with: “Meri pyari dost”, or my dear friend.
I often wondered what strength she accessed deep within her to be such a relentless crusader, even as she faced so many personal and health crises, which she openly spoke about, whether it was suffering childhood abuse, a traumatic marriage and separation, her son’s complete dependency on her due to his cerebral palsy, her cancer gnawing at her. But the worst was when her only daughter Meeto, whom she loved madly, died by suicide at the young age of 27.
My son and I, like scores of other children and child-like adults, had enjoyed the stories and poems Kamla wrote for her. She came home, when my son was about five, to give me her children’s books. Meeto was often the main character in them. I remember having a long call with her soon after the devastating tragedy. Kamla broke down, but only momentarily. She renewed her pledge to work for all the Meetos in the world. Only she could do this.
I just checked, her last message to me was on March 29: “Dear N, your conversation with Azra (Raza, the oncologist and author) was amazing. Lots of love on Holi and every other day. Love, Kamla.”
Even if we had long spells of not speaking or writing to each other, it was comforting to know that she existed. She would stand up for anyone who needed her, bring sanity and grace to every conversation, and inspire, at all cost. There was no room for cynicism or pessimism in her world. I owe her my feminist ideology, my faith in optimism, and the belief that a revolution with love is the only one worth being part of.
I had to write this today, despite the pain. I have hardly been writing in the last few years, except for a few obituaries about people I loved and admired. The last ones were for Om Puri, Mrinal Sen and Kuldip Nayar. They are all gone, leaving behind a great legacy of their work. But what about the conversations, the laughter, the warm affectionate hugs?
Advertisement
Today, I write about Kamla, in a stream of consciousness, not only to share my pain, but also to mark my gratitude to her for giving me so much unconditional love and instilling a deep sense of purpose in what I do.
Kamla will live on. Through her work, books, initiatives. Through her smile and that mischievous twinkle in her eyes. As if she was saying, “I am shaking their orthodoxy, their bigotry, and they don’t even know it!” Her voice still rings in my ears, when she would sing,
Tu bolegi, moonh kholegi, tab hi toh zamana badlegaDariya ki qasam, maujon ki qasam, ye tana-bana badlegaSpeak up, only then will the world changeI swear by the river and its tide.
o o
"Loss To Women’s Movement": Feminist Icon Kamla Bhasin Dies At 75
A poet and an author, who identified herself as a "social scientist by training", Kamla Bhasin wrote multiple books - a large number of them on feminism and women’s issues - since she started working on developmental issues in the 1970s.
Edited by Swati BhasinUpdated: September 25, 2021
o o
Kamla Bhasin: Feminist, poet, protester, secularist
by Special Correspondent, New Delhi:
She placed gender in systems and structures which abled gender imbalance
A feminist. A regular, diminutive figure at several protests in Delhi. An occasional appearance at music concerts, if time allowed her. A song writer whose songs have been a source of inspiration, sung across borders that divide. A poet whose verses are adrenalin shots for women. A secularist to the core. Call her a force of nature if you will. In her 75 years, Kamla Bhasin was more than just a friendly, smiling face. She represented and touched women struggling for a toehold in public places denied to them, moving on in her later years to question the state and governments for their inability to put an equitable system in place. Quiet, firm and unrelenting, her passing
away today found an outlet on Twitter where women acknowledged, in 147 characters, the debt they owed to her.
"You may go into a village with an idea or a plan. But only if you’re willing to learn and be educated by the people you are there to serve, will you make progress. When you’re willing to listen to them, you will begin to see their reality, how caste and class operate, and how inequitable society is," she had shared in the course of an interview.
A developmental sociologist and author, she embraced feminism in the course of her journey across rural Rajasthan, after she returned from Germany in the 1970s. Bhasin’s travels through the countryside opened her eyes to the real world far removed from Delhi offices. The founder of women’s organisation Jagori, her energies were initially focussed on smashing the patriarchy responsible for the dismal state of women.
Graduating further, she placed gender in systems and structures which abled gender imbalance, and moved a full circle to question the state and elected governments for perpetuating inequalities.
The 1990s reform saw Bhasin connecting the dots between gender disparity and an unrelenting system, which often found an expression in songs that became popular. People could relate to the home-spun quality of her verses, shorn of highfalutin words. She took on multinational soft drinks manufacturers that drained out water from lakes, depriving people from accessing potable water all of this found an expression in ditties penned by Bhasin.
Making time in her life for women, and acknowledging the contribution of men who have furthered the cause of equality, embracing secularism as the life-breath of democracy, Bhasin will be certainly missed by half the population that makes up India’s numbers. The other half, too, will feel her absence.
Item #3
Pak-India women’s rights icon Kamla Bhasin passes away
by Jawed Naqvi
NEW DELHI: She could unassumingly cheer a passionate meeting of India-Pakistan peace activists from the back benches. It would be difficult to tell her own nationality though. She could signal the end of a long night for the region’s women from her wheelchair, with rousing poetry when she was ill. But she would clarify quickly. The journey was not anti-men, but against patriarchy.
Kamla Bhasin, who passed away on Saturday at 75 after a short struggle with cancer, would perhaps be best remembered for grafting a slogan that Pakistani women first used against Gen Ziaul Haq’s dictatorship on the body politic of India the universal and unalloyed demand for Azadi, the fight for freedom.
It was back in 1991, according to one version of the slogan’s journey to India, that Bhasin, in her forties caught people’s attention at the Women’s Studies Conference at Kolkata’s Jadavpur University, as she beat a little drum and chanted a slogan. ’Azadi’ against patriarchy while being surrounded by other women.
Azadi is now a common clarion call at almost every student protest. More recently, the expression echoed during student leader Kanhaiya Kumar’s popular chanting, demanding ’Azadi’ from discrimination, Brahmanism, and poverty, at Jawaharlal Nehru University in 2016 and later, at the anti-CAA-NRC protests that have challenged India’s new and communally inspired citizenship laws.
The slogan also made its way to pop culture, as part of the movie Gully Boy, starring Ranveer Singh as a rap artist, in a song by Dub Sharma. Bhasin was an eminent poet and a flagbearer of women’s rights in India and South Asia since the 1970s.
She was born on April 24, 1946, in the district of Mandi Bahauddin, now in Pakistan, then shifted along with her family to Rajasthan after partition.
In an interview with The Quint in 2019, she said she heard the slogan first in the 1980s among feminists in Pakistan. "Pakistan at that time was ruled by Ziaul Haq. The first group that rose up against Ziaul Haq was not a political party, it was a group of Pakistani feminists. I witnessed one such meeting and that’s where they chanted it. The chant went: Aurat ka naara azadi/Bachchon ka naara azadi/Hum leke rahenge azadi/Hai pyara naara azadi."
Inspired by the chant, Kamla Bhasin improvised and came up with her own poem based on its essential spirit. "I know enough women who are totally patriarchal, who are totally anti-women, and I have known men who have worked for women’s rights their whole life.
"Feminism is not biological: feminism is an ideology."
What began as a women’s battle cry was soon harnessed to the struggles of labourers, dalits, adivasis and so on. During ’One Billion Rising from South Asia’, a campaign to end violence against women, she recited the now famous lines. "From patriarchy Azadi/from hierarchy Azadi/from endless violence Azadi/from helpless silence Azadi… for self-expression Azadi/for celebration Azadi."
After quitting her job at the UN in the 1970s, Kamla Bhasin began to work full-time on her feminist network Sangat.
Tributes poured in from across South Asia as Bhasin was given a tearful funeral at Delhi’s Lodhi electric crematorium. "She was not only a women’s rights activist, but also a philanthropist who set up and helped setting up many fine public interest institutions like Jagori in HP & School for democracy in Rajasthan," said senior human rights lawyer Prashant Bhushan. "She will be missed by many."
o o
o o
o o
