KOCHI: Last month, a special court at Mannarkkad in Palakkad district found 14 men guilty in a case dating back to the 2018 lynching of a tribal youth, Madhu, in Attappady. “The materials placed before the court reveal that the accused persons assumed the role of moral police, which cannot be encouraged in a civil society,” said the judge.
“Unless such instances are deprecated by awarding adequate sentences, the actions will be repeated... So, the sentence should serve as a deterrent to those thinking about assuming the role of moral police.”
Ahead of delivering the verdict, he noted: “This is the first lynching case in God’s Own Country. Let it be the last.”
However, a month later, another youth, this time a migrant labourer named Rajesh Manjhi from Bihar, was lynched to death by a gang of men at Kizhissery in Malappuram district. He was reportedly tortured for two hours before being killed.
According to the police, Rajesh was tied up and beaten to a pulp with sticks and pipes. He was found dead on the roadside. “We have obtained evidence, including photographs, from the phones of the accused,” says an officer.
Eight men were arrested; they have reportedly confessed to the crime. Unlike Madhu’s case, Rajesh’s death was brushed aside by the usually hyper-vocal Kerala civic society. No protests, no eulogies. It was as if nobody cared.
“The society, of which I am also a member, largely ignored this gruesome crime,” says Arvind Divakaran, 29, a Dalit youth who runs the art space Thudippu. “Maybe many didn’t find any interest in it, political or otherwise. Maybe people are more busy, selfish than before. Maybe it’s because he was a migrant labourer.”
Arvind adds that responses and outrage on social media “are always selective”. “Everyone has biases, no one out there indiscriminately responds to all social evils,” he says. Tribal rights activist Manikandan C believes not many are aware of Rajesh’s case. “Also, even the news reports failed to mention that he was a tribal youth,” he says. “Perhaps many, especially the keyboard warriors, would have spoken up had there been more media attention,” he says.
“Being a dark-skinned migrant labourer was a main reason for the murder. The Kerala society, including me, looks at migrant labourers with suspicion and someone less than the mainstream society.” Manikandan adds that migrant labourers are viewed merely as a dispensable workforce. “No particular labour rights for them, you know. On top of that, if something happens to them, no one takes responsibility. Would Manjhi’s family receive any compensation from the state? Unless people make noise, he will be ignored and forgotten.”
Critics point out that this is a state where the ruling party paid Rs 10 lakh to the family of Haryana native Junaid, who was killed in a train brawl. The chief minister had taken an effort to meet his family, too. According to Malavika Binny, head of the department and assistant professor of history at Kannur University, Rajesh’s murder reflects the “callous attitude” towards migrant workers in Kerala.
“Migrant workers have become the ‘other’ in Kerala,” she says. “They are considered inferior to the ‘enlightened’ and unionised Malayali workers. ‘Looking like a Bengali’ has become a phrase to ridicule people. Earlier, it used to be ‘pandi’, referring to Tamilian migrant workers.” Malavika adds that she would not hesitate to say “migrant workers have become akin to Dalits in today’s Kerala, particularly considering Malayali disdain for physical labour”.
Author and social observer Ravichandran C believes “ingrained xenophobia” and the fact that all the accused belonged to a minority community are the reasons for the loud silence. “Every society has this poison; we often are suspicious of new people, especially if they belong to another caste, religion, region, nation, etc.,” he says.
“We call them guest workers, but I have seldom seen any family or community treating migrant labourers like guests. Also, the social reaction may have been different had the accused not been Muslims.” Ravichandran adds that a case of selective outrage can be seen in the recent alleged death by suicide of a 17-year-old girl, Asmiya Mol, at Khadijatul Kubra Women’s Arabic College near Balaramapuram in Thiruvananthapuram.
Asmiya was found hanging in the library of the institution functioning in the Al Aman educational complex on Saturday. Her family alleges that she was subjected to mental harassment by a female teacher. Circle Inspector Vijayakumar, the investigation officer, says, “We haven’t received the postmortem report yet. It is too early to comment on the probe. It looks like a suicide at the moment, but nothing is conclusive yet.”
Ravichandran says the lack of public outrage in this case, too, is because of the religious aspect. There have been no demonstrations, candlelight vigils or hashtags seeking ‘justice’. “It is true that it is too early to say what exactly happened, and whether the institute was guilty. However, would we be silent if her death happened in any other religious institution?” he wonders aloud.
“At least students, youth, and political organisations would have organised protests. The institution happened to be an Arabic college, hence the apparent absence of strong responses.” Malavika adds on. “Judging from the social media responses and TV debates, we are showing a degree of maturity as it is, indeed, a sensitive issue... It is significant for us to reiterate that Asmiya’s death is not symptomatic of the entire community and all madrasas,” she says.
“That said, it is true that the madrasa system badly needs reform, particularly in curricula and teaching qualifications. And Asmiya’s death also shows the need to implement the POSH Act in all educational institutions, including setting up ICCs and gender orientation camps regularly.” Writer Mujeeb Rahman Kinalur refutes charges of responses being muffled. “Many from within the Muslim community are coming out strongly with their personal experience at madrasas and religious institutions. No one is silent,” he says.
“However, there is a lack of clarity in Asmiya’s case. The postmortem report is yet to be submitted. In such a situation, pointing fingers prematurely at an institute would be unethical. So people are waiting. If the college is responsible, protests will erupt. There is no doubt about it, she deserves justice.”
Author and scriptwriter P F Mathews say he is not surprised at the torpid social response. “We have always been like this,” he says. “Even from earlier days, people discussed politics at barber shops, tea shops, etc. But these politics based on parties are treated as entertainment, just like cinema. It doesn’t affect us, touch our skin,” he says.
“These issues are serious and have high stakes. But Malayalis don’t want to bother about them.” Actor Sajith Madathil, however, too, says the selective outrage in Rajesh and Asmiya’s cases has been on expected lines. “We always respond only if the issue concerns us. For Malayalis, anything happening to a migrant labourer is nothing of interest. This is exactly why mainstream media and social media remain mum. This is our so-called progressive society,” the thespian remarks.
In Asmiya’s case, Sajitha adds, the initial silence was deafening. “Now, the responses are coming in, but cautiously. Why? Because people are wary of responding to this death that happened within the walls of a religious school’,” she says.
She recalls the recent controversy over a play, ‘Kakkukali’, which talked about a girl who undergoes torture at a Christian institution. “It was withdrawn after a backlash. Now, just days after, we are witnessing a death, a similar one, at an institution of a different religion.”
It is a worrying trend that Malayalis are being reluctant to express themselves due to fears of offending a particular religion or cyber attacks, she adds. “Shockingly, the government and political parties have also been impassive. This silence is unhealthy for our society,” says Sajitha.