On the 27th of February 2016, I traveled to Mirpur Khas from Karachi - a journey that takes around four hours. It was the second time that I was travelling there to cover the Hindu Bheel community. The Bheel people must endure minority status on two counts. They are marginalised twofold - as much among their fellow Hindus as they are in Pakistan generally.
Before and during the journey to Mirpur Khas, there were many questions in my mind. I found myself wondering whether all journalists covering this area ask themselves the same questions. I was wondering why - in the 21st century - poor people have to live in a state of constant fear and intimidation from the traditional rural elite. The poor never have it good anywhere, but one wonders why the rural poor of Sindh pay a special price for their poverty.
It seems that the easiest thing to do in Pakistan is to set a temple or church on fire
But then, the issue is not just poverty. In Pakistan, when you belong to a minority on top of being poor, you essentially have no right to live in this society. If someone of wealth and influence suffers so much as the tiniest injury, you will hear a storm of discussion about it. But there was not a single voice of condemnation on the media when Bhagwan’s home was bulldosed. Nor were there any protests, save perhaps from the tormented community itself. It seems that the easiest thing to do in Pakistan is to set a temple or church on fire and then cover the matter up with a veil of silence - as if these places are not in the least bit sacred.
I was asked why I was at all interested in a story which could find little traction on mainstream media. To me, such questions felt absurd. Are the Bheel community such outsiders to Sindh and Pakistan, that nobody has even a moment to spare for their ordeals?
But then, the indigenous Sindhi Bheel would not be surprised by such questions. They have been enduring the neglect and contempt of state and society for ages. In fact, they are only too aware that their difficulties concern nobody in the corridors of power.
Inside the Ram pir temple
They cry, beat their chests and mourn by themselves. They are motivated by the simple faith that if the state does not watch, then the divine certainly does.
At 1:00pm, I reached Mirpur Khas and was accompanied by local journalist Ali Jaan, who was also kind enough to drive me to the area inhabited by the Bheel people.
Mr. Kanjee Rano Bheel (advocate and member of the Human Rights Commission Pakistan) also joined us. We asked him what the latest trouble was all about, but he had a longer tale to tell. This was a tale of sorrow and neglect spanning decades. Bheel, Kohli, Ode, Kachhi and Meghwar, all are scheduled castes but Bheel and Kohli are in the majority in Sindh’s Hindu community, and the “upper class” of Hindus is at most 5 to 10 percent of the population. It is the Bheel and Kohli people who face the worst of the violence directed at Sindh’s Hindus, epitomised by the abduction, rape and forcible conversion of Hindu girls.
Now we were looking at the recent destruction of a local Hindu shrine.
“How can we keep up the hope that the government sees us? We are fighting for our lives here!” exclaimed Mr. Kanjee Rano Bheel.
He explained that the village of Haji Bashir Ahmed Rao gained importance due to the road from Mirwah to Mithi passes through here, touching areas of high commercial value. Influential people now wanted to reap the profits - desiring to build a petrol pump and other such things. For this reason, they now want to evict Bheel people who have lived here for hundreds of years.
“Bashir Ahmed Rao cannot throw them out because the government has issued NOC and electricity. There is a water supply and even school from the government here. So, how can Bashir run over the rights of the citizens?” asks Kanjee Rano Bheel.
Local women are determined to protect their village and its humble but sacred heritage
"The gods of poor people are housed much like the poor themselves!"
We reached the village and our car stopped at the place where Hanuman’s shrine was totally bulldozed and parts of the village reduced to rubble. As we began examining the site and taking photos, people from the local Bheel community began to emerge. One of them was a journalist, Mr. Heera Lal.
“We tried reporting this in the Sindhi media but mainstream media has just neglected this incident… as you can see yourself, the local landlord’s thugs bulldozed the shrine of our god!” he complained.
Mr. Kanjee was cadid in sharing his views on the role of the Urdu media. “If we call them to report our case, they will report something like Hindu logoun ne Zameedar ki zameen per qabzaa kar ke Mander bana daala (Hindus built a temple by encroaching on the land of a local landlord). Mr. Kanjee believes English-language media outlets can sometimes offer some space to the woes of minority communities such as his, but the vernacular press is generally expected to give them anything but a fair hearing.
Hanuman's abode in the village, before it was destroyed
I was taken to visit a verho - in Sindhi, a residential compound made from the joined homes of many people. Then I entered a small temple, and as I stood there taking photos, a voice from behind me said in Sindhi, “The gods of poor people are housed much like the poor themselves!”
I was unable to turn my head around to see the man who spoke, but his voice shook my soul and I suddenly became fully aware of the extent of pain which they hide within themselves. I managed to control my emotions and asked to speak to the affected people. They showed me a murti (figurine) of Hanuman which had been shattered into pieces and shards during the bulldozing of the Hanuman temple.
An old man then asked me if I wanted to meet with some local women. Of course I did.
As is usual in this region, I could only meet the women indoors. But on entering the room where many of them were gathered, I saw not just the rudimentary mud-brick walls but also the delicate artistic decorations hanging from them.
Local councillor Narsee
In the recent local elections, the Bheel community had for the first time elected someone of their own choosing
An old lady greeted me. She told me her name was Raahie. I felt someone put an ajrak on my shoulders. In Sindhi culture, guests are often given such gifts. I politely told them that it was too much for me to accept - that I was just a journalist who was there to report on the situation. The women around me came from all age-groups. What united them was their poverty and their dignity. Children sat among them too, smiling shyly.
Raahie started telling me about the destruction of their simple little temple, and how local elites threaten them. She explained that even the simplest tasks such as fetching water or mud for construction results in threats from the local landlord. When matters reached a head, the local landlord simply sent in heavy machinery and men to demolish the Hanuman shrine.
I asked why nobody tried to resist this demolition. The women simply expressed their state of fear and helplessness. They said the landlord’s forefathers had never behaved as he had done. Old Raahie explained to me that the roots of the Bheel community in this area went back to time immemorial.
I asked Raahie how many temples or shrines were in the village. Raahie began to count. Suddenly, a young girl who stood near the door came to me and sat down with me. She began to name the various temples. I asked her what her name was. It was Raadha. She was a mixture of shyness and confidence.
This is all that remains where the Hanuman shrine stood
“Ram Pir, Maata, Hanuman and Hinglaaj”, she named the temples. Raadha told me that if the villagers had any possibility of support, they would certainly have resisted. Then she defiantly added that in the future they will resist regardless. The women around us murmured in appreciation of her words.
Someone put their hand on my right side of shoulder. it was an old lady whose eyes were slightly in tears and whose voice was broken. She said “My dear daughter, we did not want anything but a little piece of land, where we live. Tell me, if the landlord throws us out of our village, where will we go with our young daughters?”
She then went on the emphasise the intimate connection between her community and their land. For a second, there was silence, which was then broken by a lady who said that Bashir Ahmed runs a roaring trade in guttka, in Hyderabad. “A person who sells guttka is ordering us around. Why? We are living here since a long time and he treats us as slaves. Due to this horrible incident, two old ladies are sick because we all are worried about being thrown off our land. We worked for Bashir Ahmed and he never paid us well!” she said.
“Our days and nights are passing in constant fear”, remarked a young lady near me.
After my meeting with these brave women, the men showed me other temples which were small mud-brick structures. The village has around 250 houses. On the 15th of February 2016, the local landlord escalated his confrontation with the villagers by demolishing their oldest shrine, that of Hanuman. I was shown what was left of this – a rubble-strewn field.
Journalist Heera Lal explained that the landlord flaunted his political ties, and himself gives protection money to people from a certain powerful political party in Karachi. The landlord believes that these payments entitle him to throw his weight around as a local bigwig, even if his actual membership of the party is a matter for debate.
I inquired why it was that recently their disputes with the landlord had reached a level that he resorted to such drastic measures. I was told that it had to do with the fact that in the recent local bodies’ elections, the Bheel community had for the first time elected someone of their own choosing, rather than vote for people indicated to them by local bigwigs.
I was introduced to Narsee, the newly elected local councilor. 32 years of age, he was exceedingly polite and I asked to photograph him. But sadness was unmistakable in his eyes and his quiet demeanour.
I thought to myself that the price for real political change is very high. The Bheel people were certainly paying it in this area, for daring to elect a man they truly wanted to vote for.
I asked the local people if anyone at all was interested in helping them. The councilor, Narsee, said “Yes, there is Pakistan People’s party senator Mr. Hari Raam Kashori. He promised to help”. Suddenly, a voice near me broke out in anger. It was an old man in traditional Sindhi dress. “Nobody has the right to throw us out of here! Bashir Ahmed is angry at us because we did not vote for him. We will vote for whoever we want!”
“I am ready to pay the price of that land to Bashir Ahmed. Moreover, it is the right of the people who lived there for ages and the government has issued NOC to them. The landlord has no right to illegally force them to empty a village. We have requested the Sindh government for help, and they have promised to protect us!” I was told by Mr. Hari Raam Kashori on the phone.
On my way back to Mirpur Khas, Kanjee Rano Bheel said, “The government of Sindh should remember that if they win from Mirpur Khas, it is because of the Bheel community, otherwise the upper class of Hindus rarely votes. So now, it is their responsibility to help us!”
The local landlords can clearly act with impunity. A bulldozer that today demolishes a temple can tomorrow demolish the feeble mud-brick houses too.
Does nobody think that Bhagwan’s people need shelter too?
Veengas Yasmeen is a Karachi-based journalist. She tweets at @VeengasJ and may be reached at veengas.journalist@gmail.com
