Chief Minister Kumari Mayawati Das of Uttar Pradesh, India’s most populous state, reportedly paid around 260 million rupees (US$5.2 million) in income tax for the fiscal year 2007-08, making her the highest taxpayer among India’s politicians. However, she is no businesswoman. She is a politician, and her capricious rise from rags to riches speaks for the kind of democracy and politics practiced in India.

Since assuming the chief minister’s post on May 13, 2007, Mayawati and her Bahujan Samaj Party have come a long way from humble beginnings. The daughter of a clerk in the telecommunications department, she now aspires to be India’s next prime minister.

The BSP contested state elections by harnessing the votes of Dalits – people traditionally regarded as untouchables, outcastes or of low caste. Mayawati, a Dalit herself, has been claiming that her party and the Uttar Pradesh state government she leads are actively involved in meliorating the living conditions of the Dalit community.

The BSP, which claims to be working for revolutionary social and economic change to realize “the supreme principles of universal justice, liberty, equality and fraternity enunciated in the Constitution of India,” has, however, achieved nothing much on these fronts. Like most of its counterparts in the country, the party is preoccupied more with the welfare of the people who control the party than the welfare of ordinary people.

Uttar Pradesh, which covers around 243,286 square kilometers, occupies one-third of India’s highly fertile Gangetic plain. Yet it is one of the most backward states of India and home to an estimated 190 million people. The backwardness of the state owes much to its elected representatives. Individuals having criminal antecedents ranging from charges of corruption, murder, rape and robbery, occupy 100 out of the 403 seats in the state assembly.

Mayawati herself is accused of corruption involving US$40 million, in the infamous Taj Corridor case – a scam project undertaken during her tenure as chief minister to upgrade tourist facilities near the Taj Mahal.

The state underperforms on various fronts below the national average. For example, the literacy rate is 57 percent for the state, as opposed to the national average of 65 percent. India’s population stabilization solely rests on two states, Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. Yet, Uttar Pradesh has a population growth rate of 25.8 percent against the national average of 23.8 percent.

Even according to the state government, in terms of social development indicators like medical facilities,teacher-student ratio in primary schools, death rate, infant mortality rate, literacy, per capita income, electrification of villages and per capita power consumption, the state currently lags behind other parts of the country. Nothing tangible was achieved in the state to change the status quo after Mayawati formed the current government in May 2007.

What is visible, however, is the omnipresence of statues and decorations in urban areas, particularly in cities, where huge statues of Mayawati are erected. Criticisms against her or a member of her government is responded to with stiff resentment, claiming them to be rumors spread by the upper caste or the opposition.

It is however true that the current administration will have a tough way forward if the government is at all serious about addressing the people’s needs. The state bureaucracy has a few decades of corruption, nepotism and criminality to shed. To remove this will take time, as it is deeply rooted in the system. Of particular importance is the rampant practice of corruption. Every aspect of public life in the state is under the influence of corruption.

The BSP, like many other political parties in the country, is known to demand “donations” from the rich and the poor alike. Those who pay big amounts expect to receive favors from the government.

Corruption percolates from the top to the lowest levels of the administration. For example, it is common for the government licensees like Public Distribution System agents to sell food grains on the black market. So food grains supplied to PDS shops by the government for distribution to the poor never reach the intended population.

The effect of this form of corruption is devastating, particularly in rural areas where the poor live. The state police, an agency mandated to take action against this, are equally or even more corrupt. It is public knowledge that recruitment and promotion in the state police, particularly for the lower and middle ranks, is made after paying huge amounts in bribes. It is equally known that the majority of officers soon start recouping the money by demanding and accepting bribes.

A similar state of apathy exists in state-run health centers. Government hospitals are understaffed and ill equipped. In rural areas, public health service centers remain closed mostly throughout the year, denying health services to poor villagers. Schools are also equally understaffed. Some government schools remain closed or remain in a nonfunctional state, as the infrastructure is not safe to house children.

The poor in villages mostly face the brunt of this administrative neglect. The state has a predominantly rural population, of which an estimated 11 percent is unaccounted due to caste prejudices and errors in census data. The state is home to malnutrition, starvation and high mortality rates. A high percentage of those who face this harsh reality are members of the Dalit community.

Almost 90 percent of Dalits work as landless agricultural laborers. Yet when the central government initiated discussions on a national land reform policy and law, Mayawati’s BSP was in the forefront to oppose the move. A national land reform law with statutory limitations on individual and collective land holdings would help to improve the living conditions of the poor.

A state like Kerala, where such policies have long been in force, has proved that land reforms not only reduce poverty, but also have the potential to end caste-based discrimination.

Against this backdrop, Mayawati and her government are preparing for a statewide celebration of the government’s third year in office. An estimated 1 billion rupees (US$19.9 million) will be spent for building monuments by the state administration in the coming years. The question is whether the monuments will be remembered as the glory of a Dalit leader or as ghosts of her reckless administration?

Here is an attempt to
go behind the scenes to trace how a police officer of the rank of
sub-inspector functions in Goa, a western state of India, from his recruitment to becoming part of the well-oiled bribery system, which is the legacy of every police installation.
“Encounter Specialist” Daya Nayak, of the Mumbai
police, was suspended after a probe by the Anti-Corruption Bureau (ACB)
into his allegedly disproportionate assets revealed they exceeded his
known sources of revenue.
Raids on the house of someone like him, who has been the inspiration for many a Bollywood
flick, revealed that he and his wife had acquired assets worth INR
41.75 lakh (US$94,671). As a sub-inspector at Charkop police station,
Nayak drew a salary of only INR 9,000 (US$204 /per month).
In
2003, an independent crime branch inquiry into Nayak’’s assets
concluded that he is involved in film financing. Further, he owned
hotels in Switzerland, Dubai and Goa. That wasn”t all; he also owned at least three flats in Mumbai.

Nayak hails from Mangalore, and made it big in Mumbai, gaining fame
between 1998 and 2001 in gunning down 83 gangsters in allegedly staged
“encounters,” which inspired the Hindi film “Ab Tak Chhappan.”

Mario is a physical education teacher at a Catholic school in the State
of Goa. As a youth he was a champion athlete at university and won many
awards.
After graduation he had his sights set on entering the
police force as a police cadet. He had all the sports certificates and
the physical attributes to back him up, along with his academic
qualifications. Also, his father had been a freedom fighter against
Portuguese colonialism.
That was some twenty years ago. Mario
never made it into the police force, not passing the vision
requirements. It turns out that was just a pretext for the
powers-that-be to get him off the list.
He was competing in a field of over 50 graduates, all of whom were vying for the 15-odd posts of sub-inspector in the Goa
police force. The fifteen vacancies all went to candidates who could
shell out INR 1.5 lakh (US$3,400) for the posts. Mario failed to
qualify as he was not ready to pay the bribe. He wanted to be a genuine
police officer without paying bribes and strike at the evils in
society.
Instead of combating illegal
activities as a police officer he ended up by lecturing kids in the
classroom and passing on the skills he had learned in sports.
In
the last two decades a lot has changed, including the police forces.
The price a new recruit into the force has to pay corrupt politicians
has shot up to INR 5 lakh (US$11,338).
Paresh is one such new entrant, who has just finished his two-year probation period – one year
at the Nashik training academy in the western state of Maharashtra and
the remaining year getting practical training at five different police
stations in Goa.
He is now looking for a posting at one of Goa’’s
numerous police precincts. His first assignment would be to work as a
sub-inspector (PSI) under a police inspector (PI), who is in turn responsible to the deputy superintendent of police (DYSP).

Goa has a DYSP and SP in each of the eleven talukas . Goa, in addition,
has a narcotics bureau, a tourist and traffic department and now the
marine police.
Paresh’’s parents have invested half a million
rupees (US$11,338) in him in the hope that he will work it off over
time. Tot hope to recover the amount through his salary, which would
take some ten years.
So, what is the course that Paresh could
follow to recover the money his parents have invested in him to get the
post? He cannot be in a hurry, needing to learn the ropes of how to
extort a bribe.
His first posting is in the coastal area of
Colva, one of the famous beaches of Goa with a very “hectic” police
station, meaning a “lucrative” posting in police parlance, in fact, the
most sought-after posting in terms of potential revenue from extortion.

After three months at Colva, the tourist season has just began.
Paresh is on his beat, answerable to his superior, Nelson.  The station
officer in charge is the person who answers to his superiors whenever
anything adverse occurs in his jurisdiction, so everything must be
under control.
That does not mean, however, that Paresh has to come down hard on the illegal activities that take place in his beat area, which would be like killing the goose that lays the golden eggs.

The only choice for Paresh then is to monitor violations on his beat
using the feedback from his beat constables, who are acquainted with
all the persons who do illegal business on the beach. Continuity is
maintained even when constables and police officers are transferred,
the outgoing ones introducing their replacements to the persons
involved in the illegal trade.  His mission is to get acquainted with
all the persons who bring in the moolah for the Colva police station,
which is then shared out according to rank.
Head constable
Anthony Gomes has prepared a list of contacts in the area for Paresh,
names of new “friends,” starting with the gamblers. Pedro runs a dice
game (”goddgodo”) at each of the football tournaments and tiatrs (folk
dramas-ed.) in the Colva police station jurisdiction. Then comes
Inacio, he is the agent for an illegal lottery known as “matka.” Then
there’’s John, who supplies call girls to foreign and Indian tourists.
Paul is a small-time drug dealer and also runs water sports activities on the beach illegally, without permission from the Tourism Department.

John is an ex-fisherman who now ferries foreign tourists to Bat Island.
He does not have permission to ferry tourists nor does he adhere to
safety regulations, all reasons for his name turning up on Paresh’’s
list. Then there’’s Shiva, a hawker on the beach, speaking 15 foreign
languages. But the only language police know is the language of money.

Hirappa is the unofficial leader of the hawkers on the beach. For years
he has been collecting bribes from them and handing it over to the beat
constable concerned.  Each hawker had to pay INR 100 or US$2.27 per
week to the precinct and 75 INR or US$1.70 to the tourist police every
day.
Then there was Dominic, a teenage boy who rented scooters to
tourists. Next on the list is Anthony, a partner in a beachside shack
restaurant, a hot spot for late night beach parties.
With late
night music having to come to an end at 11 p.m., restaurant owners pay
the police to keep the music and their business going without any
hassles.
Then there was the beach masseur, Linappa Malappa,
originally from Karnataka, but for the last ten years doing business on
the beach.
These persons would contribute a regular stream of
income to the police station during the tourist season from October to
February every year. The beat constable who welcomes them also collects
the take.
The average monthly collection, normally around INR 2
lakh (US$4,542), has to be split with the DYSP and SP of the taluka. As
for Paresh, his share would be some INR 10,000 (US$227), in addition to
his regular salary.
Tyson is just shy of 22 but has been
innumerable times in and out of prison cells. His is a familiar face to
the police, but the last time he went behind bars is now a year ago.
From a juvenile to a seasoned criminal, he is now a police informant.
It’’s snitches like Tyson who keep Paresh happy.

Indian nurses are applying in huge numbers to work in Denmark, but consultants cloud the issue

The number of Indian nurses wanting to work in Denmark has increased dramatically this summer – possibly in part to some shady recruiting companies in their homeland.

Between June and August, 4,507 Indian nurses applied for authorisation to work in Denmark, up from only 30 last year.

The Association of Danish Regions, which administrates the nation’s hospitals, said it welcomed the news that so many had applied, but added it was unlikely that all applicants would be successful.
‘We are always happy to take on well-educated labour if the authorisation is approved. But of course we can’t take 4,500 at once even if they are qualified, because it’s a huge task for hospitals to integrate foreign employees,’ said the chairman for the regions’ health committee, Ulla Astman.

It is estimated that between 1,500 and 2,500 extra nurses are needed to cover the labour shortage in Danish hospitals.

However, it appears that some Indian consultancy companies are making a quick buck off the news that Denmark needs more nursing staff.

Last year, a Danish company targeted India to train and attract nursing staff to Denmark. Jobikon trains nurses in India and cooperates with Danish hospitals looking to recruit foreign staff.
Jobikon director Niels Prip told The Copenhagen Post that the latest surge in applicants was not down to his company – which is currently training 10 nurses in India to work in Denmark – but due to unscrupulous Indian firms making money from local nurses.

The Danish Foreign Ministry set up a local Work in Denmark office in New Delhi last October to assist in recruiting specialists to Denmark and, according to Prip, word spread that there was a shortage of skilled workers in Scandinavia.

‘Work in Denmark has done a great job, but the side-effect was that a few companies in the south of India picked up on the fact there was a shortage and advertised in local papers for nurses to work in Denmark,’ said Prip.

According to the director, these companies charge a fee of several hundred dollars to process the application for authorisation.

However, Prip said applicants were only granted temporary authorisation if they secured a job offer in Denmark, which the Indian companies did not facilitate.

‘These nurses have a good reputation, but they probably won’t get jobs because they need someone here [in Denmark] to represent them. So there are a couple of companies that make a lot of money and a lot of disappointed nurses,’ Prip said.

The head of the Work in Denmark Centre at the embassy in New Delhi, Per Asp Larsen, confirmed there had been a proliferation of businesses for middlemen consultants in the Asian country.

‘At least half of all the applications we get come through consulting companies that often advertise far-reaching promises, such as shorter processing times.’

Larsen said the latest wave of nursing authorisation applications had not been processed through his centre, but were sent straight to the National Board of Health by companies who sometimes ‘do not provide their clients with all the necessary information’.