<p>Each day, when I wake up and see this body of Manju turn into this life called Manjamma, I realise that the transformation has been the least difficult part of the journey. What followed and remains an ongoing battle to this day is the struggle for inclusive acceptance.</p>.<p>Acceptance isn’t an act of tokenism or forced but is organic and evolves with a sense of respect for the life within each of us and the wonder that is creation. Most families of people like us, distanced or not, are glad to accept all that we bring home. We are allowed the privilege of feeling wanted by our near and dear ones only so long as we bear them some goods or services in terms of income, support or pride. The saddest, most inhumane aspect of this underlying lack of inclusiveness is the way in which the families handle our deaths. It is heartbreaking to see those who have fed off your blood and sweat wait not a moment before discarding you like grime that needs to merge as quickly as possible with the soil. It is even more painful when they do not even volunteer to give you the luxury of decency in death. I have mentioned how Kalavva was treated by her son even after she literally gave him all that she earned. She did not once buy us a cup of tea, she hoarded every extra thing she collected to pamper this son who in her last days was simply waiting for her to die. Our bodies go through a lot because of the life we lead, lack of nutrition and care, and the trauma of uncertainty which is a constant. After struggling to survive through what society puts us through, ill health is a given. That makes us struggle to die, more often than not. Sadly, this struggle doesn’t end with death. I have seen countless instances when the moment a Jogathi is dead, she is orphaned once again. By the same people she tried to win over all through life by giving them all she could.</p>.<p>Those who gladly accepted all that you stocked their homes with and didn’t have an ounce of guilt over spending what you earned, those who didn’t care if you slept around to earn that money or begged on the streets, suddenly find your choices in life shameful and your existence itself derogatory. ‘Leave all that you have been and come back into the community,’ suggested the family of one Jogathi called Tuppada Kudike Jogamma, who was Husen Saab before he became a Jogathi. She lived in a predominantly Muslim area. The family wanted that she should ‘return to their religion’ in her last days but since that was not to be, when she died they<br />sent word for us. Even among Hindus, no one touches the body of a Jogathi until fellow Jogathis first give a ritualistic bath. Most often than not, any piece of jewellery on the body or any valuables they owned is taken off by their families. But the body itself is not really ‘owned’ by the family. It is even more distressing when the Jogathis belong to a different religion. They are then disowned at death on the additional grounds of religion which, in my view, is a banal excuse given by those who lack basic compassion.</p>.<p><em><span>(Excerpted with permission from B Manjamma Jogathi’s and Harsha Bhat’s ‘From Manjunath to Manjamma’ published by HarperCollins India.)</span></em></p>
<p>Each day, when I wake up and see this body of Manju turn into this life called Manjamma, I realise that the transformation has been the least difficult part of the journey. What followed and remains an ongoing battle to this day is the struggle for inclusive acceptance.</p>.<p>Acceptance isn’t an act of tokenism or forced but is organic and evolves with a sense of respect for the life within each of us and the wonder that is creation. Most families of people like us, distanced or not, are glad to accept all that we bring home. We are allowed the privilege of feeling wanted by our near and dear ones only so long as we bear them some goods or services in terms of income, support or pride. The saddest, most inhumane aspect of this underlying lack of inclusiveness is the way in which the families handle our deaths. It is heartbreaking to see those who have fed off your blood and sweat wait not a moment before discarding you like grime that needs to merge as quickly as possible with the soil. It is even more painful when they do not even volunteer to give you the luxury of decency in death. I have mentioned how Kalavva was treated by her son even after she literally gave him all that she earned. She did not once buy us a cup of tea, she hoarded every extra thing she collected to pamper this son who in her last days was simply waiting for her to die. Our bodies go through a lot because of the life we lead, lack of nutrition and care, and the trauma of uncertainty which is a constant. After struggling to survive through what society puts us through, ill health is a given. That makes us struggle to die, more often than not. Sadly, this struggle doesn’t end with death. I have seen countless instances when the moment a Jogathi is dead, she is orphaned once again. By the same people she tried to win over all through life by giving them all she could.</p>.<p>Those who gladly accepted all that you stocked their homes with and didn’t have an ounce of guilt over spending what you earned, those who didn’t care if you slept around to earn that money or begged on the streets, suddenly find your choices in life shameful and your existence itself derogatory. ‘Leave all that you have been and come back into the community,’ suggested the family of one Jogathi called Tuppada Kudike Jogamma, who was Husen Saab before he became a Jogathi. She lived in a predominantly Muslim area. The family wanted that she should ‘return to their religion’ in her last days but since that was not to be, when she died they<br />sent word for us. Even among Hindus, no one touches the body of a Jogathi until fellow Jogathis first give a ritualistic bath. Most often than not, any piece of jewellery on the body or any valuables they owned is taken off by their families. But the body itself is not really ‘owned’ by the family. It is even more distressing when the Jogathis belong to a different religion. They are then disowned at death on the additional grounds of religion which, in my view, is a banal excuse given by those who lack basic compassion.</p>.<p><em><span>(Excerpted with permission from B Manjamma Jogathi’s and Harsha Bhat’s ‘From Manjunath to Manjamma’ published by HarperCollins India.)</span></em></p>