When Sampat Pal first emerged in 2006 in the rugged, lawless terrain of Bundelkhand with her Gulabi Gang, pink became the colour of revolution for many. Since then she has taken on a number of corrupt cops, crooked politicians and abusive husbands
Timing was just not right. The day I decided to do a story on Sampat Pal — the woman who had never been wary of taking on corrupt cops, crooked politicians and abusive husbands even in the patriarchal badlands of Bundelkhand — she was sacked from the very organisation she had created from a scratch almost a decade ago. Till the other day the Gulabi Gang — the 20,000-strong grassroots female vigilante outfit known famously for wearing pink saris and carrying sticks — was synonymous with her name, and then one morning we were told that she had nothing to do with it.
“She has been thrown out for promoting herself at the cost of the organisation and its interests,” said a former associate, adding: “Sampat would, of late, not take us into confidence before taking a big decision — as big as her intention to jump into the electoral fray or even to participate in the television reality show Bigg Boss.” He then recalled how she unilaterally decided to visit Rae Bareli along with other members of the ‘Gang’ to campaign in support of Congress president Sonia Gandhi. Interestingly, the gentleman refused to be identified, fearing it was not all over for Sampat Pal. “It’s too early to write her off. The Gulabi Gang is faceless without her.”
Whatever be the case, the fact remains that Sampat deserves both accolades and respect for whatever she has achieved in life. Someone who got married at the age of 12, and had five children by the time she was in her late 20s, Sampat has come a long way. With no formal schooling and limited economic opportunities, she could easily have resigned to her fate, like many other women in Bundelkhand. Her achievements get all the more startling when seen in the backdrop of her district, Banda, which incidentally is among the poorest 200 districts in the country and one of the first to be targeted through the UPA Government’s much-hyped and misused jobs-for-work scheme. To make matters worse, it’s the women who are primarily at the receiving end of poverty and discrimination in the district’s caste-ridden, feudalistic, male-dominated society. Dowry demands and domestic violence are quite common here.
It all began in 2006, when Sampat saw a man beating his wife mercilessly. Everyone went about their daily chores as usual; domestic abuse, after all, wasn’t considered unusual in this part of the country. Sampat couldn’t ignore it and requested the man to stop thrashing the poor woman. The man, angry at the ‘interference’, abused her as well. “I left that day quietly, but I knew the battle wasn’t over yet. The next day, I came back with five other women and beat that man up with sticks until he begged for mercy,” said she. As the news spread through the village, other women began approaching Sampat to take up their cases. “Today, eight years down the line, the Gulabi Gang has established operations across north India, with centres in Meerut, Bijnore, Banda, etc,” says Sampat Pal beaming with pride. Interestingly, the Gang has a chapter in Paris as well.
But why carry sticksIJ “When we go around with lathis, it makes a difference. Though we don’t use them often, it helps change the mind of men who think they are more powerful than us. It also helps women feel that they are strong and can fight back,” said Sampat. When asked about the name, ‘Gulabi Gang’, she had an interesting argument. In Hindi, gulabi means pink. And Sampat chose this colour because it was free of any religious or political associations in the country. “We didn’t want people to mistake us for someone else,” explained Sampat.
In the book, Pink Sari Revolution, Pakistani-Irish author Amana Fontanella-Khan narrates Sampat’s journey through the struggle of 17-year old Sheelu Nishad — a housemaid raped by her employer, a powerful BSP MlA, who then had her thrown in jail on false theft charges. When Sampat learnt about Sheelu’s plight, she took up the case which ended up in the conviction of the politician. In a region notorious for widespread corruption, crime and collusion, Nishad would probably have languished in jail forever had the Gulabi Gang not stepped in. While narrating this story, Fontanella-Khan has a fascinating episode to share. The author asked Sampat why she had persistently felt compelled to get involved in other people’s “business”. The answer wasn’t spontaneous. After a moment of silence, Sampat replied quite vaguely: “When I die, the Indian Government should look into my brain and find out how I have become like this.” There was silence again, which got broken when she said, “They should look into my heart too, that could help.” A typical Sampat who might not have gone to schools but is never short of words even while tackling ‘difficult’ questions.
One of the earliest incidents that gained the Gulabi Gang prominence concerned the imprisonment of a poor man, Bare lal, after a dispute he had with his neighbour, who worked for a local strongman. lal was detained without charges, and the police refused to let his wife, Sushila, visit him. At one point, they even assaulted the wife for requesting way too often. Sushila then sought the help of Sampat, who contacted the media and besieged the police station with her Gang members — a method the outfit would perfect in coming years. Everything changed after that incident; the Gulabi Gang received positive media coverage, and Sampat was hailed as a hero.
So, is Sampat all about police gherao and male-bashingIJ Ask this, and she would remind us of the road in her village. It was her efforts that ensured that the village had a road in a true sense of the word. Before that it was difficult to distinguish the road from the surrounding farmland, except that the former was overwhelmingly rocky in nature. It all changed because of Sampat Pal, who one day in 2006 led a group of women on the road and, with wooden hoes in their hands, proclaimed loudly: “This is a road, whatIJ looks like a field to me! Come on, let’s grow vegetables here, at least we can eat them!” They started sowing seeds, tilling the road and blocking the traffic. Soon the news spread everywhere like a wildfire and the district magistrate had to visit the village and make a promise in front of the people that the road would be fixed soon.
During her activism, Sampat had to face a long list of ‘criminal’ charges, including unlawful assembly, rioting, attacking a government employee, and obstructing an officer in the discharge of duty. One such incident happened in 2008 when her group gheraoed the local electricity office, which was withholding power until members received bribes or sexual favours in return for flicking the switch back on. Soon the Gulabi Gang stormed the office and bashed up the officials hiding inside the building. An hour later, the power was back in the village!
Sampat is a courageous woman in her personal life too. Her Gulabi Gang work makes her live outside her home with a male member other than her husband. In the extremely conservative milieu of Bundelkhand, to openly share a room with a male colleague, a former schoolteacher to be precise, whom she regards as a father-figure, is audacious to say the least. It’s another fact that it helps that she is an older woman and therefore, less bound by social mores.
Sampat, however, isn’t all flawless. An advocate of women’s rights who has always resented the fact that she was married off at the young age, she nevertheless married off three of her four daughters while they were still teenagers. “It is ironic,” observes Fontanella-Khan, “that the woman who has helped empower so many women across Bundelkhand was not able to protect her own daughters from the hell of child marriage.” The author adds that Sampat sometimes denies her daughters’ underage marriages, and at other times acknowledges them but claims that she relented to her in-laws, who held sway over the family.
Now that Sampat has officially been thrown out of the Gulabi Gang, will it make her go all out in politicsIJ Or, will she now try to get back her organisation, something which she believes is rightfully hersIJ Whatever be the end, the fact remains that Bundelkhand hasn’t remained the same since the emergence of the lathi-wielding messiah. She has imparted a sense of self-belief in the women of the region. And more so, she has provided dignity to pink and made it the colour of revolution for many.