They are stateless people with barely a roof over their heads and a quarter of land to rebuild their lives on. Yet, they are raising their children and tending to their elderly in humble camps, offering little in the way of urban amenities, in the hope that someday they will be accorded the status of citizens, their coveted ticket to a dignified living and equal opportunity. However, a piece of legislation, tailored to give a meaning to their existence, has unleashed a firestorm of protest, claiming lives, while polarising opinions and hogging news space and dinner table discourse. Camped in pigeonhole tenements in the city, and elsewhere, they still dare to dream
Pakistani Hindus
“Sona bech ke yahan ghar banaya, saaman kharida. Mard kuch karta nahi thaa, aurat ko sambhalna padha (Had to sell off my gold to build a house here and buy essential household items. My husband shied away from responsibilities. So, the women in the family had to step up),” said 29-year-old Ramgauri, a Hindu refugee from Pakistan’s Hyderabad, as she opened up to this correspondent while feeding her newborn.Among hundreds of Pakistani Hindus, who were displaced from their homeland and found refuge in India, she jogged back to the struggles that she, and, scores like her, had to face while undertaking the emotionally long journey to Delhi.
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I left Pakistan nine years ago. It took us three days to arrive at a decision and we barely had time to salvage whatever belongings we could. Life was hell back home. There were curbs on our religious practices. We were seen as lowly and treated as untouchables. While it’s not an easy decision to leave your home and hearth, we came to India in the hope of a better living,” she said.
However, it’s been far from smooth sailing in the land of her ancestors. With no jobs and educational opportunities, Ramgauri and more of her ilk have had to scrap and scrounge for livelihood.
“It felt like a world apart when we arrived in Delhi. This is the land of our forefathers and our heart bleeds for India. That being said, we couldn’t escape the harsh reality. We had no shelter, not even a plastic shed. We had to start from scratch and live in the open. We sold all our belongings for money. However, we have come a long way since. Now, at least, we have pucca houses. Both our men and women have found work to earn their bread,” she said.
Without proper sanitation, water, electricity supply and emergency medical help, they are living like the dregs“There are eight public toilets, for both men and women. The women rise early but still join the long queue, waiting their turn. Men queue up much later. While we have to save every drop in summer, the overflowing Yamuna gives us sleepless nights during the monsoon. We have no immediate medical support. It seems we don’t matter to the government,” said Nainabanti, who arrived from Karachi in 2013.
Rohingya Muslims
“Amago kotha koite baron korse (I’ve been asked not to speak) said Noor (name changed), as she stood outside her tiny one-room hut. Clad in a faded yellow kurti and holding her 2-year-old daughter Jahanara, the youngest of two, on her lap, she looked as if she was anxious to avoid being seen in conversation with this correspondent.
“Life isn’t easy out here. My husband is unwell and I don’t have a job. We have two daughters to raise. I don’t how I will manage all my responsibilities,” Noor said after a pause, struggling to fight back tears.
She said she largely spends her days visiting doctors or reliving the dark days back home. While she is nursing a burn that her daughter sustained on her tiny right hand lately, her husband has been diagnosed with a rare psychological ailment. “The doctor said my husband won’t live long. I don’t even know the name of the disease he is afflicted with. I am desperately looking for a job, as I have to feed my daughters,” she said before going back to her hut.
A sense of anxiety seemed to pervade this Rohingya settlement in Delhi’s Kalindi Kunj. The people, it appeared, were scared to open up or engage in conversation with outsiders.“This isn’t the right time to talk. We were misquoted by some media crews that were here recently. Since the violence at Jamia Millia Islamia (during a protest against the Citizenship Amendment Act), we are wary of opening up to outsiders. We don’t want to be in any kind of trouble. We, too, are Muslims,” said Javed (name changed), who runs a shop in the vicinity.Around 60 families are settled in the camp. Many, who were teens when they landed on Indian soil, are now married to partners, who, too, are among them. Their youth have picked up Hindi, the language most spoken and understood in the area, and have found menial work.
Tibetan Refugees
It was afternoon at New Aruna Nagar, commonly known as Majnu Ka Tilla, near Kashmere Gate, and local cafes and eateries were buzzing with the cackle of customers, mostly young. The unauthorised colony, allotted primarily to Tibetan Buddhist refugees, is also a popular hangout zone, over steaming momos, thukpa and other Tibetan cuisine, with the city’s youth.“The young visitors here call it MKT. We didn’t have a clue what the letters stood for even a few years back. Over the last four decades, however, our lot has changed. Tibetans have been allowed to settle in various parts of India. However, we prefer Delhi as it is closest to Himachal, where our spiritual leader resides,” Karma Dorjee, a second-generation Tibetan refugee, said. His fourth generation is also part of the sheltered Tibetan community now.
When the community first came to settle near Kashmere Gate, they lived in jhuggi-jhopris (slums), he recalled. In 1982, the then Indira Gandhi government allowed them to build proper buildings. “Since we don’t have land rights, we took up residence on the first floor and used the ground floor to open commercial establishments. We had no jobs when we came here. A generation has suffered for want of education and employment. However, we have built our lives and livelihood on the land given to us and have not encroached an inch more,” Dorjee said.Only 10% of the first-generation Tibetan refugees are still around, Dorjee said, adding the ones, from the second generation onwards, born in the 60s and 70s, found it easier adapting to the Indian way of living.
Identity crisis
The settlers in the city’s refugee camps have been in high spirits since the coming of the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA). Not fighting shy of voicing her excitement, 40-year-old Mohini, a Pakistani Hindu, said she felt relieved that she would soon be able to shake off her ‘refugee’ tag.
“From now, we would be called Indians, a tag long desired. Despite being a Hindu, we are still fighting for our identity. We want a better future for our children,” she said.The Rohingyas have fared no better in the struggle for identity. Most settlers said they are labelled as Bangladeshis.
“Many aren’t aware which community or country we belong. We are called Bangladeshis. Many of us have stopped speaking Bengali and switched to Hindi. We aren’t intruders but victims of circumstances back home,” Javed said.
Lack of land ownership rights is the major grouse of the city’s Tibetans. “The rules keep changing for us. Now, a parent needs to hold an Indian birth certificate. We fought over issues related to our identification in courts and won,” said Tashi Tshering, who lives in Majnu Ka Tilla.
The Tibetans don’t figure among the communities who will benefit from the CAA. “We don’t trace our origins to countries mentioned in the Act. We hope the government will consider our citizenship claim. We have nothing left in Tibet,” Dorjee said.
Other refugees
Delhi’s Lajpat Nagar II has been home to Afghan refugees for many years now. Many Christians among them, who are considered a minority in their homeland, also found refuge in the city.
The Law that lit fire of protest
Know the CAA
The Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) seeks to provide permanent resident status or citizenship to non-Muslims from Pakistan, Afghanistan and Bangladesh. It aims at removing the tag of illegal immigrants from Hindu Parsi, Sikh, Buddhist and Christian settlers from these three countries, who have been living in the country without necessary documents, and grant them citizenship in six years
Why the protest over CAA?
Soon after the passage of the Citizenship Amendment Bill (CAB) in both Houses of Parliament and the presidential assent, thereby making it a law, Assam erupted in protest. Outside the Barak Valley, which is dominated by Bengali speakers, indigenous communities across the state fear that the law will lead to an influx of Bangladeshi Hindus into their territory, eating into their resources and threatening their culture and tradition. Also, in the national capital and elsewhere, the Act touched off violent protests over fears that it might call the resident status of Indian Muslims into question.
Rohingya MUSLIMS: ‘stateless entities’
The Rohingyas, largely based in Myanmar’s Rakhine state, started facing forcible displacement in 2015. They are considered as stateless entities, as the Myanmanr government does not recognise them as an ethnic group. Many escaped to refugee camps in Bangladesh, Indonesia, Malaysia and Thailand. Rohingya camps in India are in Jammu, Assam, West Bengal, apart from New Delhi
Pakistani Hindus: Driven away by repression
Alleging constitutional and legal discrimination, as well as forced religious conversions back home, many Pakistani Hindus started taking shelter in India. The trend has been on for years now. Many are settled near Majnu Ka Tilla
Tibetan refugees: battle for identiy continues
The Tibetan migration movement began in 1959 when his Holiness, The Dalai Lama, came to India. Another 80,000 Tibetans were allowed by then PM Jawaharlal Nehru to take refuge in India till the political uprising back home settled down. The second exodus happened in the eighties, when Tibetans fled their homeland citing increasing political repression. A good many of them are settled in the Capital
Rejects find new home
The national capital is home to sizeable settlements of refugees, comprising Pakistani Hindus, Tibetan Buddhists and Rohingya Muslims