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Gandhi’s
Inheritor: A rare photograph of fasting Medha Patkar
at AIIMS
Photo Shivani Chaudhry |
Medha
Patkar, on the 19th day of her indefinite fast
The outside of the
Intensive Cardiac Care Unit (ICCU) at the All India Institute of Medical
Sciences (AIIMS) in Delhi feels more like a police station than a hospital.
Three policewomen, four male constables, a plain-clothes security officer,
and a hospital guard create a daunting atmosphere. The police fortress
monitors her and regulates all visitors. Even after they moved her out
of the ICCU on April 16, nothing has changed. It is impossible to meet
her. She has allegedly been arrested under Section 309, IPC, for attempted
suicide, but no chargesheet has been filed. This is illegal.
With each day of the
indefinite fast, Medha’s health deteriorates; her blood sugar level
falls, her ketones rise, threatening irreversible damage to her kidneys.
But she smiles, “The people of the valley are my inspiration.”
Her feet are bandaged, she ironically points out how they are treating
her psoriasis but not the real crisis (the dam). Despite her gradually
failing physical condition, her will to fight is indomitable. She recalls
cell phone numbers, quotes legal language, and rattles figures on megawatts,
villages, and dam technicalities with unbelievable ease. Her body might
object, but she dictates powerful statements and letters with a keen astuteness.
On the 10th day,
the nurse brings her a glass of lemon water. But one sip and she spits
it out. “This has sugar in it. Don’t cheat me.” From
then on, the lemon and salt remains in her room, and Vijayatai, her
close friend and a constant factor in her life for the last 20 years,
mixes it in front of her. This is not a fast for publicity. It is not
a fast for show or sympathy. It is a fast for a just cause. Let the
fascist fallacy-flexing symbol of violence, Narendra Modi, see what
an indefinite fast of a satyagrahi really means.
It is torturous.
On the 18th day, she writhes in pain, she shivers as the blood in her
veins has gone cold. “Why are you doing this to yourself,”
I ask in anguish. “The fast is the last resort, always,”
she tells me. “It is the point of ultimate commitment to the cause.
It is not just a political strategy, but has to be perceived within
the framework of your values and vision. Mediators are often wrong about
the fast. They have to constantly be reminded that they need not worry
about me, but about the valley’s life. We see it not as pressure,
but as an appeal to the nation. When normal democratic means of a non-violent
struggle fail, we are left with no other option.”
The doctors at AIIMS
are supportive, their respect for her is evident. On the 20th day, though
they plead her to take something, they do not force-feed her or put her
on intravenous drip. “Once you’re in the war, whether violent
or non-violent, you have to fight to the finish. I learnt this from my
father, a trade unionist. Kabhi haar nahin manna.” Her parents have
influenced her; her mother works for women’s rights.
As I write this, on
the morning of the Supreme Court judgement (April 17), it’s the
20th day. “Why are you counting?” she asks. “I’m
not,” I say, but I confess I am deeply distressed. Because I have
lost faith in the Indian State and its institutions, because every norm
of democracy is constantly being subverted, because violence is systematically
being used against non-violent struggles. And I am afraid that the price
of petty, fascist, power politics is being paid by someone I deeply respect
and love: a global symbol of non-violence, truth and struggle.
