Valley of dead dolls

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There are many reasons behind the shrinking distance between India and China. And some of them are pretty grim. Such as our attitude towards baby girls — and our ruthless effort to crush them and their dreams. Recently I shared a platform with the radical and sensitive Chinese author Xue Xinran at Asia House, in London, in a discussion moderated by the petite, articulate BBC anchor Mishal Husain (who recently presented a documentary on Mahatma Gandhi, The Road to Freedom). We both spoke about our very separate and yet similar experiences in the two emerging economic giants — but from a gender perspective.
It was an enlightening and yet chilling experience to discover that the two countries which are beginning to dominate the world, still demonstrate a deep gender bias. The obsession with female infanticide and foeticide continues, and economic prosperity sometimes makes the problem more acute. When children are treated like an investment, the returns have to be carefully calculated. Who is valued more? Boy or girl? Most adults will decide to keep the former and dispense with the latter. Recent surveys have shown that between the two great economies there are nearly one hundred million missing women today. Women who should have been allowed to live but were killed either before or after birth, because the two Asian giants have a strong son preference.
Xinran was a radio presenter in China who worked on a show, Words on the Night Breeze, and has now relocated to the UK. Her radio programme was women oriented, with participants narrating their, often harrowing, stories to her. It is these stories which have, over the years, become the inspiration for many of Xinran’s critically acclaimed books and have exposed the harsh reality of contemporary Chinese women before the world. China’s one-child policy has also led to further cruel discrimination against the girl child. Often, girls are either killed or hidden away or abandoned, so that the parents could attempt to have a son.
My own book, Witness the Night, is a novel based in Punjab where, in certain areas, the gender ratios have become severely unbalanced because of the deep-rooted desire for a son. It was a desperately sad comment on our two countries that both Xinran and I were discussing a subject which had no place in a modern world. As she spoke about baby girls being thrown into boiling water in China, I was thinking of the Mumbai mother who, having given birth to twins, flung her baby daughter from the hospital window, and kept her son. Yes, our two great countries, sadly, have a lot in common.
But perhaps the worst culprit in this sorry saga is the general apathy; people usually treat this shocking behaviour as normal. Thus, until an international spotlight is turned on it, these crimes will continue to occur.
Hopefully, the London audience was startled when I asked them to consider the following: India and China have a young and growing population, while most of the Western world has an ageing population. Therefore a gender imbalance will upset the worldwide sex ratio. So it would be a mistake to think it is our private “cultural” problem.

Meanwhile, London has been a whirlwind of literary functions. Whilst I know that some, such as Ian Jack, the well-known Guardian columnist and long-time supporter of India, feel that the Asian literary scene has come a long way and now there is no need for Asian authors to seek acclaim abroad, I beg to differ. In fact, the number and variety of very big and small literary festivals celebrating the written word around the UK is reassuring, especially for a new author. And these are all inclusive festivals — not just for Asian writers, which makes the interaction far more interesting.
Last week I was at the Ilkley Literary Festival, which was superbly organised in a really pretty venue. Ilkley itself turned out to be a serenely prosperous town in Yorkshire — easily accessible by the UK’s clean and punctual trains. It makes one understand that the real joy of writing is not just to see your book published, but to go to literary festivals and interact with the readers! Even an unknown author like me feels like a rock star.
So now I am off to the Helsinki Book Fair and after that to the Hay Literary Festival in Kerala. Oh, bliss! It is really a moveable feast. Of course, I am getting not-so-gentle reminders that I have to hurry up and complete my next book. But if there is so much pleasurable travel and interaction, why would I not do it?
Another fun event this week was the gala closing dinner of the DSC South Asian Literary Festival at the Globe, on Southbank. That’s where we all went balle balle when the shortlist of the mega DSC South Asian Literary Prize was announced. Shakespeare would have been delighted to have the aroma of chicken curry and naan wafting through the theatre along with strident beats of British-Asian music, and glittering lights dangling from the rafters. What could be more literary than that? It is fascinating that once an event is termed South Asian, it begins to immediately resemble a big fat Punjabi wedding... I suppose this will be the turning point for literary festivals in the UK, which have been quiet and discreet so far. They will have to inject music, dance and ladies in slinky saris into their programmes, or risk being deemed dull and colourless.

However, in London, a big vacuum in the cultural agenda will be created with the impending departure of Monika Mohta, the popular and very capable director of the Nehru Centre. The Centre is home away from home for most of the desi community, who flock there not only for the free samosas and wine but perhaps also for more intellectual succour. Monika has been enthusiastic and energetic in dispensing both. We are told that she is now packing to leave on her next assignment — and there are many who will miss her cheery support for local talent and her manifest skills in organising a full house, even on dismal rainy days. Bon voyage, Monika!

The writer can be contacted at kishwardesai@yahoo.com [2]