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The clinking of glass bangles shatters the silence as I look up to find a pensive look on Neelima Baig’s face. Her eyes are hazy and devoid of color, but penetrating still. Her one-room house smells of Fevicol and cough syrup.
Her 85-year-old elder sister, Waheeda, lies bed-ridden beside her. She too, dedicated her life to the art of bangle-making, before tuberculosis hit her.
The two women are immigrants from Bangladesh who crossed the borders a long, long time ago with their husbands.
Now, however, these women fear for entirely different reasons: The Citizenship (Amendment) Act and the National Register of Citizens (NRC). But the worst part? They are not even aware of the implications.
Even though they live in a Bangladeshi immigrant dominant area, their contact with the outside world is limited because of old age and stigma.
A hot, dingy cell in North East Delhi has become their home.
Neelima only sighed when I told her about the government’s proposed plan.
She rubs her eyes with the palm of her hands as if to wipe her tears.
One can only imagine the Baig sisters’ journey if they are deported back to their village with nothing in hand—no money, no food, no house to go back to.
Moeena, who lives with her son and his wife, has similar fears. Moeena and her husband came here from Bangladesh just after the Liberation War. Mohammad Razhin, her son, tells me,
Razhin is a helper at a mechanic shop. His wife, Shazia stays at home to look after their children. They have two sons and a daughter, and Shazia is pregnant with the fourth one. When I asked them if they have paperwork to prove their residence, Shazia told me,
“We have the required paperwork for our children, but not for myself and my mother,” Razhin said.
A large number of these women, who often happen to be widows and immigrants, work in the glass polishing, bangle-making industries.
They manage to earn 30 to 35 rupees per day, a figure that is far from the basic minimum wage of Rs 165. When asked about her salary, Moeena’s son answered on her behalf.
We then get back to discussing the CAA and NRC. I asked him if he knew what it could mean for his family.
“Yes, we know. We know that it is very unfair. Everyone in our community is talking about it. I am scared. I don’t want to be separated from family. What will my wife and kids do without me?,” he said.
His wife continues,
The fear of being separated is deep-seated. Moeena starts to cry. She says there is no point in going back to Bangladesh. “I cannot go back without my late husband,” she says.
This family in Seelampur echoes the concerns of several others who have taken to the streets since December 2019 in protest against the CAA and the NRC.
Shazia adds, “Don’t separate young children from their father. It is a crime.”
For the most part of their day, many like the Baig sisters live in anticipation and anxiety.
While many are actively engaging in the discourse on citizenship and resistance, it seems like little is reaching the grassroots level and to the homes of women like Neelima Baig and Waheeda Baig, who are still rendered voiceless.
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Published: 12 Feb 2020,07:04 PM IST