Mumbais juvenile criminals have a history that needs to be understood so that social workers cater to them better a former head of a childrens home tries to bridge the gap with a new book
Shrikanth Murthy is the retired deputy chief officer of the Umerkhadi Children's Home (behind). He was placed there for 14 years in two stints - 1975 to 83 and 1990 to 96. Pic/Suresh Karkera
Which among the two vocations - pickpocketing or stage acting - requires a higher skill set? The former, maintains Shrikant Murthy, the retired deputy chief officer of the Umerkhadi Children's Home. He has just published his second book featuring the lives of Mumbai's juvenile offenders. Having followed-up around 10,000 cases of children - boys, girls, delinquent, non-delinquent and victimized - in three remand homes and one correctional facility over a span of three decades, Murthy draws on his years of counselling underage pickpockets, street kids involved in petty crime and orphaned adolescents working for larger crime collectives.
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Two Stories: True Stories (StoryMirror publishers, R200) underlines the significance of life-long follow-up and frequent interventions directed at the true rehabilitation of delinquents. Murthy navigates through two children's lives, Theo and Balwant, to offer timely advice that goes beyond the call of duty. He has not lost touch with either protagonist (names fictionalised) even after they are seemingly settled. Theo, 27, who was once a pickpocket, is based in Bengaluru and has taken up social work at an NGO, he often travels to Australia for work. Efforts are still on to trace his family in the small Silakpahaad village bordering on Madhya and Andhra Pradesh. Balwant, 26, works as a photocopy shop helper in the Fort area. He is periodically counselled, so that he retains his job, and is able to claim his share in a legal dispute over his ancestral property in Mangaon (near Lonavala). It is cathartic to witness a retired officer's chase of two dynamic case histories. Similarly, Murthy's book lists out numerous remand home officers who have rendered exemplary services in the sphere of juvenile justice. It is reassuring to read about officers who have long-term interest in children's trajectories, even while working in apathetic setups where pivotal case papers are eaten away by termite.
The way students take to origami or botany, Murthy was inclined towards understanding a minor's mind, ever since he completed (1973) his Masters in Sociology from the University of Mumbai. He was born in Karnataka's small town Nanjangud, his schooling years were spent in Mysore and graduation in Bengaluru, but he was attracted to the big city with a sense of adventure. The Bombay connect grew stronger as soon as he post-graduated and started working with the Children's Aid Society. As one of his earliest assignments, Murthy did a character study of the city and was deeply affected by the pathetic human conditions, especially the plight of children. He decided to take up social work as a profession and settle down in Mumbai.
"Delinquent children are a collective responsibility, they are to be observed as wards of the state," Murthy maintains, adding that case studies of juvenile lawbreakers need to be documented and shared widely. Currently focused on a book solely devoted to delinquent girls, Murthy's first book Stories Waiting to be Told (anthology of nine inspiring children from remand homes) has been referenced in libraries of 18-odd foreign universities in the UK and the US. Considering the lack of a knowledgebase of indigenous case studies for social work students in India (approximately 30,000 are currently studying in 125-odd social work institutes), Murthy's field experience bridges the gap between social work educators and practitioners. His praxis wisdom in dealing with errant children adds to the social discourse, especially for those seeking local context orientation. He feels Mumbai's remand home officers must document true stories (of course maintaining the confidentiality) before superannuation. "Every officer complains of a heavy case load, which is true. But the need for sharing the circumstances of Mumbai's children is equally true. How long will our Master of Social Work students rely on case histories of foreign milieus?"
Murthy's book offers vignettes of Mumbai street life; the city's large homeless population comes to the fore in the form of boys cut off from immediate family. Theo is remanded to the Umerkhadi home after he loses contact with his mother and sisters who were once with him at the crowded Mumbai Central station. They had run away from Silakpahaad for a better life in the city. His stint in two observation homes in Mankhurd is not fruitful. He runs away from the Bombay Teen Challenge, Badlapur, choking all possibilities of recovery. He takes refuge on a pavement in Bandra, tying up as a lackey for a sugarcane vendor. He is inducted into the world of pickpockets who focus on the Ladies' compartment train passengers. Theo graduates into a hardened 'lifter' who has to initially share his earnings with the senior bhagis (shareholders), failing which he is grievously attacked; his sleight of hand later gets him several lucky catches; he recounts them to Murthy at the remand home, bringing alive the thrill and 'action' experienced by those who make a living out of petty larceny. Theo's kleptomania impedes his rise at crucial junctures; until visible change comes in the form of a Father from Mahim Church who inspires Theo to take up the study of Theology in the Southern Asia Bible College in Bengaluru!
Balwant's trajectory also encourages the reader to believe in human transformation. When he and Aai-Baba leave the ancestral share in Mangaon, life begins under Dadar's Tilak bridge. Parents do odd jobs for the family's survival, not to forget that Baba's alcoholism is quite a dampener. Aai enrolls Balwant in a street children's special school, which he doesn't wish to attend. Despite the rains and other calamities, Aai feeds the family under the bridge, until one day when the civic authorities force them to shift base. The new innings begin in a shanty near Victoria Terminus, although Balwant often sneaks out to sleep on the platform. It is here that he gets inducted into the cluster of underage children who are paid by the railway authorities to recover injured and mauled bodies of rail accident victims. He develops a vicarious pleasure in handling extricated body parts. With time, he becomes part of a legitimate system in which he is paid R720 per operation.
Two Stories: True Stories depict the complexity of juvenile crime in metros. It shows why detention of young offenders does not necessarily solve the issue. There is need for creative vocational alternative education which will engage delinquents and help them fight stigma, and not scare them into the strict discipline-oriented walls of an observation facility where a movie night is stingily offered. Remand home buildings do not offer an environment for new habit formations. 'Unlearning' and 'relearning' are crucial for a child who has deviated from the social norm, which cannot happen if the children's home is "more like a prison" where medical-paramedic staff is inadequate, resident psychologist-psychiatrist unavailable and funds unattainable, as if such homes are a child's play.
Sumedha Raikar-Mhatre is a culture columnist in search of the sub-text. You can reach her at sumedha.raikar@gmail.com
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