: Seventy-six-year-old Aandavar gets up at 4.30 in the morning every day to fish in the local canals and rivers around Cumbum. And, this head of a family who walks around with a thin stick in hand for support says that he is eagerly awaiting the cash distribution by political parties.
“We have nothing else with us. The Rs. 500 each of us get will help us with our food for a few days. I have spent 60 years in this same place and no one has ever done anything for us,” he says, his anger palpable in his voice. By implication, money is the only thing they care for when voting.
For about 20 Dalit households in this small settlement in Hanumanthapatti, life is an excruciating challenge. Their damaged houses -- with their half-done walls and plastic sheets to cover the roof -- have no electricity and bear testimony to the abject poverty of the families.
The community calls itself Urukayar Naicker. Traditionally, the members of these families have been making wigs (savuri). Theni and Cumbum being popular shooting spots for Tamil cinema, their wigs were once in demand. “We also rear pigs. But ever since the old make-up men gave up their jobs, we are no longer approached for our wigs. Now, we stand on the main road and try to sell them to cars that ply by. Hardly two or three are sold on a good day,” rues Krishnan.
The wigs are sold for Rs. 70 to Rs. 250 based on the length of the hair. Wigs with grey hair cost more. “When you get old, your hairline thins. That is when women start thinking about savuris,” adds Malarkodi, the wife of Aandavar.
Ask her about her voting preference and she snaps. “Whether it is Rising Sun or Two Leaves, are they going to help us? We have been here for five decades but our petitions seeking pattas are still pending,” she says. Her husband says the officials cite the burial ground right behind the settlement as a reason to deny them pattas. “But this burial ground came here later. We settled here first,” he claims.
About 15 years ago, the entire family left for Chennai on the advice of an astrologer. Aandavar apparently had a dangerous 'dosha' in his horoscope and was asked to move away from the burial ground with the entire settlement. He took them to Tondiarpet.
The other younger women explain how difficult it is to live without electricity. While the government did give them mixies and grinders, there was no way to use the appliances. For a while, a decade ago, they tried to use the electricity from the lamp post nearby. But after this was detected by the local electricity board officials, the connection was cut and they were served a warning. Now, even the streetlight does not work. “If you come in the night, this place will look pitch dark,” the women add.
These men allege that ration cards with their addresses were issued for the sake of their votes. While most of them have traditionally backed the AIADMK for the charisma of former Chief Minister M.G. Ramachandran (the women say they have a soft corner for Chief Minister Jayalalithaa), the lure of cash has caught up with some of them over the last few years. There is also a charge of discrimination even in the distribution of cash, with claims that the OBC houses nearby get a few hundred rupees more than them.
“Why should we not take cash they give? They have not given us anything else and denied us a life of dignity,” says Murugan.
The people here have two primary demands: “If not here, give us another place to stay. And, please give us electricity so that our children can sleep well.”
