Date: 29 May 2014
Subject: Mukul Sinha: Death Of An Activist-Comrade | Tehelka


http://www.tehelka.com/mukul-sinha-death-of-an-activsit-comrade/#.U4cRPd6V_a8.gmail

*Ajit Shahi finds why comrades aren't mournful but rather are full of great
memories after the passing away of rights lawyer Mukul Sinha *

 Ajit Sahi <http://tehelka.com/author/ajit-sahi>  |
@ajitsahi<https://twitter.com/@ajitsahi>
2014-05-24 , Issue 21 Volume 11

<http://www.printfriendly.com/print?url=http://www.tehelka.com/mukul-sinha-death-of-an-activsit-comrade/>

11 July 1951 -- 12 May 2014 | Photo: Kadambari

An accountant with a centuries-old religious trust in Gujarat, Bharat
Bhatt, then 33, graphically remembers the pleasant yet nippy winter evening
in 1988 when he walked into a trade union office in Ahmedabad. A
sister-in-law's brother had brought him to meet the union's leader, a
soft-spoken lawyer named Mukul Sinha. That 15-minute encounter would change
Bhatt's life forever.

Wearing a half-sleeved bush-shirt and smoking a cigarette, Sinha heard
Bhatt narrate the woes of the 600 employees of the unwieldily-named Seth
Anandji Kalyanji Pedhi Akhil Bharatiya Jain Shwetambar Murtipujak Shree
Sangh Pratinidhi. Most staff were priests in its five Jain temples in
Gujarat and one each in Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh. Sinha asked who ran
the trust. When Bhatt named a billionaire industrialist, Sinha said: "*Usko
dekh lenge* (We will take care of him)."

The tale is both funny and serious. While earning tens of millions annually
in donations from the Jain faithful, many of them the typically rich flying
over from domiciles in Europe and North America for a quick tête-à-tête
with the gods, the trust paid its staff a piffling average of Rs 300 a
month. Sackings abounded. Those ill or in other urgent circumstances had
only the gods to turn to. Just weeks before Bhatt walked in Sinha's door, a
Congress party-linked trade union the employees had allied with had
backstabbed them and sold out to the trustees. The sister-in-law's brother
had once worked with Sinha and knew of his tested prowess as a union
negotiator and lawyer.

I heard this story in 2009 at Ahmedabad during a trip for TEHELKA for which
I then worked. Mukul*bhai*, as I called him, guffawed and, pointing at
Bhatt, said: "I told him we are incorrigibly atheist and asked if he really
wanted us to work with them." Everyone sitting around us at the office of
Jan Sangharsh Manch, their civil resistance outfit, cackled as Bhatt
grinned. The answer was yes, they wanted Sinha to get them a better deal
from the miserly crorepati trustees. Two days after we lost Mukul*bhai* to
cancer this week, I telephoned Bhatt and shared a laugh going over the very
surreal victory that the very un-priestly Mukul*bhai* wrought for the
struggle of the priests.

Founded in the 17th century by a businessman who had descended from Mughal
emperor Akbar's royal jeweller, the trust was chaired for half of the 20th
century by the family's patriarch, textile magnate Kasturbhai Lalbhai, who
owned Arvind Mills. At the time Mukul*bhai* cudgelled up for the union,
Lalbhai's son, Shrenikbhai, had taken over as the trust's chairman. Mukul
*bhai*'s trade union work since the late 1970s had already led him to cross
swords with Lalbhai's businesses. The group's lawyer was taken aback to see
him arrive for negotiations with the management. "Come on, Mukul," Bhatt
remembers the lawyer say in exasperation, "at least spare our temples!"

Negotiations ate up an entire day and the night that followed. At 5 am,
exhausted representatives of the management, who included not a few
businessmen travelling from Mumbai, offered blank cheques. "We told them we
don't want their money," Amrish Patel, a comrade who, too, was present,
told me with a laugh when I asked him over the phone this week to recall
that fairytale. "We told them they have to give the workers' dues." As the
talks flopped, Mukul*bhai* called a strike.

Downing tools meant no showers or change of clothes for the gods. No lamps
lit, no prayers made. No darshan, no blessings. The jet-set scrambling in
for a flying encounter with the divine bristled. In six days, the union had
won. "We have signed six agreements since," says Bhatt. Wages now nearly
match the Sixth Pay Commission's recommendations. Dearness allowances,
gratuity and increments are generous. Sackings are rare. Any time the
management acts funny, the priests go slow. How on earth do priests go
slow? "They take hours to bathe and clothe the gods," Mukul*bhai* told me
in 2009, grinning. "Before daily darshan can start, it is time to shutter
down."

Mukul*bhai* shot to national prominence only a decade ago as he filed court
cases on behalf of the victims of the anti-Muslim violence in Gujarat in
2002 in which more than 2,000 Muslims were killed. He also began
representing the families of the mostly Muslim men and two women who
Gujarat Police shot dead in the mid-2000s in what came to be known as "fake
encounters". But inside Gujarat, his renown with the civil society and the
working classes dates to his sacking from the State-run Physical Research
Laboratory (PRL) after he had briefly worked there as a probationer and had
quickly become a troublemaker for trying to unionise the employees.

In 1977, Mukul*bhai*, only 26 years old, started a union at PRL. Soon
after, he helped found a workers' union at the National Dairy Development
Board (NDDB). There he met Narendra Patel, an older comrade, and the two
stitched up a lifelong relationship. (Amrish is Narendra's son.) In 1980,
they started the Gujarat Mazdoor Sabha, which today boasts 25,000 members.
In 1982, when the Centre tried to push a law to bar unions in
governmentaided institutes, Mukul*bhai* fired up thousands as part of a
national protest and forced the Bill to be abandoned.

Emerging thus as a formidable union leader, Mukul*bhai*, still only 33,
launched an umbrella outfit in 1984: the Federation of Employees of
Autonomous Research Development Education Training Institutes. Becoming
popular by its tongue-in-cheek acronym 'Feardeti', which in Hindi would
mean "strikes fear", it included unions at the who's who of the public
sector: NDDB, National Textile Corporation, Indian Institute of Management
(Ahmedabad), Gujarat Cooperative Oilseeds Growers Federation Limited,
National Institute of Design, and Sardar Patel Institute of Economic and
Social Sciences.

As his successes drew private sector unions, he launched the Gujarat
Federation of Trade Unions in 1989, quickly sweeping up most private and
public sector unions such as of the Ahmedabad Municipal Corporation, the
Ahmedabad Municipal Transport Service, the Oil and Natural Gas Commission,
electronics giant Hitachi and textiles major Raymond. Increasingly aware of
the everyday struggles of workers beyond the workplace, he and his comrades
simultaneously launched the Jan Sangharsh Manch to take the fight to the
heart of a class-based system.

Reporting in Gujarat connected me with him in 2008 and we began to interact
often. In February, I phoned him for his views on Gujarat Chief Minister
Narendra Modi's claims of governance. Finding Mukul*bhai* a tad less
ebullient, I asked him if he was unwell. He was surprised I did not know he
was diagnosed with cancer in the lungs last year. "May be I forgot to tell
you," he said casually. I asked him for more information. Equally casually
he said chemotherapy was taking care of him. But I have never seen you
smoke, I said. "I stopped smoking long ago," he said with his typical short
laugh.

I wanted to join Mukul*bhai*'s funeral but there isn't going to be one.
Researchers at a cancer hospital he gave his body are splicing it up now. A
lifelong Leftist, Mukul*bhai* had lately withdrawn from most union work.
Except the Jain trust staff's that wouldn't let him go and so he stayed its
president until his last. "I believed in god and Mukul*bhai* always made
fun of me for it," Bhatt told me with a chuckle. "He would tell me *bhagwan
nasha hai, isse chhod do* (god is an intoxicant, forget him). He taught me
so much, including atheism. I don't anymore believe in the *nasha* of god."

[email protected]

*(Published in Tehelka Magazine, Volume 11 Issue 21, Dated 24 May 2014)*




-- 
Peace Is Doable

-- 
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups 
"Green Youth Movement" group.
To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email 
to [email protected].
To post to this group, send an email to [email protected].
Visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/greenyouth.
For more options, visit https://groups.google.com/d/optout.

Reply via email to