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Indian Express
8 hours ago
- Politics
- Indian Express
A ‘Nasbandi Colony' and a ‘Mata Indira Sanjay Act': 50 yrs later, ghosts are vivid at Turkman Gate
Along the Delhi-Ghaziabad border, adjoining Loni, lies 'Nasbandi Colony'. The name has stuck, 50 years on after the Emergency's sterilisation and resettlement drives uprooted residents of Turkman Gate, located in the Capital's heart, and dispatched many of them here, to its fringes. There are other things that remain the same in this colony, since it got the first of its Turkman Gate evacuees in the Eighties. Open drains line bumpy, pothole-marked roads, where two-wheelers weave their way through cattle. The smell of open garbage is pervasive. Residents say the government gave land, but no livelihood or shot at a new life – not even a school. Around 16 km away, at Turkman Gate, located in Delhi's Walled City, other families whose houses were razed during the Emergency now live in DDA flats they got as compensation. The flats, built 48 years ago, are in need of repair, while the cramped lanes sport endless electrical repair shops. As many here make a living as scrap dealers, used air-conditioners and coolers crowd public spaces. As per the Shah Commission that went into the Emergency excesses, six people were killed when police opened fire in the Turkman Gate area on April 19, 1976, on protesters, days into a demolition drive. Over 1.5 lakh structures were pulled down across Delhi during the Emergency, but Turkman Gate remains the most vivid example of the drive. While the protests at Turkman Gate on April 19, 1976, were over the demolitions, anger was also bubbling over sterilisations. On April 15, a sterilisation camp had been inaugurated at nearby Dujana House by Sanjay Gandhi and then Lieutenant Governor Krishan Chand. Overall, as per the Shah Commission, over 1.1 crore sterilisations were carried out between 1975 and 1977, against the government's target of 65 lakh, and over 1,774 died during the sterilisation procedures. Amid the steady clatter of machines turning out envelopes at a small factory near the same Dujana House, Zakir Ahmed, 69, sits quietly at his dispensary unit. He first started working at the age of 7 at a wedding card workshop, which still exists across the road, and was not yet a teen when the sterilisation teams arrived. 'They targeted outsiders – labourers, beggars, construction workers… those just walking by,' Ahmed says. Officials offered inducements to meet their sterilisation targets – sometimes money, often a 4-litre tin of Dalda (refined oil), rarely a transistor. Ahmed remembers one incident in particular. On April 18, 1976, as a van carrying men and boys for sterilisation crossed the neighbourhood, a woman snuck up and opened the back door. 'Unko azad kara diya nasbandi se pehle (She freed them from sterilisation).' Ahmed adds: 'Nobody could be saved from nasbandi in those days. Those who said anything would be jailed under the MISA (Maintenance of Internal Security Act).' The very next day, April 19, came the bulldozers. 'Those months were very difficult,' Ahmed says. 'People were terrified… Families… Hindu, Muslim… all would beg their loved ones not to travel after dark, offer each other shelter. Every time one left home, one was scared.' To ward off action, 'many put up photographs of Indira Gandhi at their shops'. Such was the contempt for the PM and her son, says Muhammed Shahid Gangohi, one of the founding members of the Turkman Gate Welfare and Coordination Committee, that 'people referred to the MISA Act as Mata Indira Sanjay Act'. If there is another name that invites similar derision, it is Rukhsana Sultana, a socialite and boutique owner who had risen quickly within the Congress in Delhi due to her proximity to Sanjay. Safi Dehlvi, 75, a former Congress leader, says Sultana took the lead in implementing Sanjay's sterilisation targets in the Walled City, as the one overseeing the camp at Dujana House. 'In April 1976, Sanjay came here and received a hostile reception… He looked around and said he saw a 'mini-Pakistan'. Within a few days, bulldozers were at Turkman Gate's doors.' The afternoon of April 19, Gangohi recalls, he was on his way for his BA first-year exams at Zakir Husain College. 'Around 4.30 pm, there was an announcement that students from our area should meet the Principal. We sensed something had happened… We were told that at 1.45 pm, police and military had come, there was a lathicharge as well as police firing. Around 500 people were arrested… beaten so brutally that it was equivalent to being killed.' Gangohi's family house shared a boundary wall with a mosque; they thought that gave them some immunity. 'But it was also demolished.' Most of the displaced were sent to Trilokpuri initially, while a few were moved to Nand Nagri, Ranjit Nagar and Shahdara. Gangohi says that the two appeals the displaced made were that 'families not be split' and that they get 'built-up area' as compensation. 'But the accommodations at Trilokpuri and Nand Nagri were completely barren… with no roads. It was a jungle.' Mohd Rizwan, 75, points to a spot along Asif Ali Road near Turkman Gate: 'This is where Sanjay Gandhi addressed the public, telling them the benefits of the sterilisation programme… After four-five days, the demolitions started.' One of his relatives, Abdul Malik, 23, was among those killed, Rizwan says. Another old-time resident of Turkman Gate, who was in school then and is now a senior government official, says on the condition of anonymity: 'Teachers would pressure us (on the issue). Near Chandni Chowk Market, we would run into Youth Congress volunteers raising slogans of 'Hum do, hamare do (Us two, ours two).' Government employees were afraid their promotions would be stalled if they put up resistance, he says. Historian Sohail Hashmi, who was himself a witness to Emergency crackdowns as a student at Jawaharlal Nehru University, talks about the experience of his mother, the headmistress of a government school in Kidwai Nagar. 'Teachers were expected to present two sterilisation certificates every month… It were the poor, the rickshaw-pullers, the drug addicts, who bore the brunt of this policy.' Santosh Gupta, who was among the first settlers at the 'Nasbandi Colony' and continues to live there, says his mother Sashi Bala was among those who volunteered for sterilisation. His father, who earned a living as a tailor, his brother and he never discussed the subject, Gupta says. 'I was too young to ask, and she never told us anything.' He wonders though if it was for land. In exchange for undergoing the procedure, Bala received a 90 sq yard plot in 'Nasbandi Colony'. In 1985, the family moved there. In 1998, Gupta opened a small shop on the plot, and lives in an adjoining house with his wife and four children. Bala and her husband are now deceased, as is Gupta's elder brother. He is now thinking of moving, perhaps to Karawal Nagar, which offers at least better amenities as well as connectivity, Gupta says. His 'Nasbandi Colony' plot could fetch Rs 55 lakh, he says. But could the ghosts of Emergency end with that? Ahmed, who has lived his lifetime in the shadows of it, still recalls the lifting of the provision, and their anticipation of a new start. 'The streets erupted in celebration, Delhi felt as joyous as Eid or Diwali. Outside the Tiz Hazari court, there were such long queues that shops ran out of liquor,' he says, before he breaks into a cough that has become chronic, a reminder of decades spent inhaling paper dust.
The Hindu
a day ago
- Politics
- The Hindu
How the Shah Commission report went missing and its eventual rediscovery
On June 12, 1975, in Courtroom no. 24 of the Allahabad High Court, Justice Jagmohanlal Sinha pronounced the Prime Minister of India, Indira Gandhi, guilty of electoral malpractice. It was found that Gandhi violated Section 123(7) of the Representation of the People Act, 1951, by availing the services of gazetted officers in furthering her election campaign. Her election was declared 'null and void' and she was disqualified from holding any electoral office for the next six years. In a last-ditch, hasty attempt to hold on to power, she recommended that President Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed declare a national emergency. The head of the State obliged to her wishes and at the stroke of the midnight hour on June 25, 1975, proclaimed Emergency. Following this, the fundamental rights of the citizens were suspended, and a federal democracy morphed into a unitary one overnight. The next 21 months saw the imprisonment of political leaders, censorship of the press, and even forced sterilisations. So, when she was finally defeated in the 1977 general elections, the political parties that allied to form the Janata Party, which eventually formed the government, appointed the Shah Commission in 1978, headed by former Chief Justice J.C. Shah, to inquire into the excesses committed during the Emergency. Author Katherine Frank in her biography of Indira Gandhi titled Indira: The Life of Indira Nehru Gandhi noted that the former Prime Minister was unwilling to cooperate during the deposition. Eventually, the Commission published two interim reports and one final report on August 6, 1978. The reports detailed the abuse of power by the Central government, which included detention and arbitrary arrest of political dissidents, and censorship of the media. The report also highlighted the systematic suppression of civil liberties, among other excesses. However, these conclusions could not remain in the public consciousness for long, as cracks started to develop in the Janata government due to ideological disagreements. Citizens were forced back into queues at voting centres in just two years. This time around, the mandate was overwhelmingly in favour of Indira Gandhi. Once back at the helm, she seemed keen on refuting the evidence collected by the Shah Commission. Author Vernon Hewitt, in his book Political Mobilization and Democracy in India: States of Emergency, noted that she attempted to recall copies of the Commission's reports wherever possible. And it looked like she succeeded for a moment; no one, including researchers, authors, and journalists, could get hold of the report. It almost looked like this historical document containing a young democracy's troubles got lost in time. But this was until Rajagopal 'Era' Sezhiyan, former Member of the Parliament, unearthed the report in his home library in 2010, and decided to publish it as Shah Commission Report: Lost, and Regained. In republishing the book, an important documented account of history made its way back to political, legal, and academic circles of the country, enriching our understanding of authoritarian decisions and their excesses. Later it was revealed that the National Library of Australia too had a copy of the report of the Commission. Talking about the document, Era Sezhiyan remarked, '…it is more than an investigative report; it is a magnificent historical document to serve as a warning for those coming to power in the future not to disturb the basic structure of a functioning democracy and also, for those suppressed under a despotic rule, a hopeful guide to redeem the freedom by spirited struggle.' On June 24, 2025, Goa's Governor P.S. Sreedharan Pillai launched his book Shah Commission: Echoes from a Buried Report. Slowly one could be lead to believe that the report is making its way back to public consciousness.
India.com
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- India.com
The Films That Shook The Emergency: How Satire Put Sanjay Gandhi Behind Bars
New Delhi: In 1975, India slipped into one of the darkest chapters of its democratic journey. The Emergency, declared by then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, brought with it a ruthless suppression of dissent. In this turbulent atmosphere, Sanjay Gandhi emerged as a powerful person, his name tied to a trail of allegations – forced sterilisations, direct interference in government functioning and the controversial Maruti project. But amid all the chaos and legal battles, it was a film that finally led to his imprisonment. 'Kissa Kursi Ka' Then Member of Parliament Amrit Nahata dared to make a political satire called 'Kissa Kursi Ka'. It poked fun at the establishment and caricatured Sanjay Gandhi and his coterie. The film never saw the light of day. Instead, the negatives were seized and burned, allegedly on Sanjay Gandhi's orders. The Shah Commission, formed post-Emergency to investigate abuses of power, found him guilty. A court convicted him. Jail followed. The sentence was eventually overturned, but the damage had been done. Satire had cracked the shield of political impunity. The film had powerful symbolism. Actor Shabana Azmi played the silent and suffering public. Utpal Dutt embodied the manipulative godman. Manohar Singh portrayed a politician intoxicated with power. More than a movie, 'Kissa Kursi Ka' was a cinematic rebellion. 'Nasbandi' Two years later, another filmmaker took the risk. In 1978, I.S. Johar released 'Nasbandi', a spoof on Sanjay Gandhi's controversial sterilisation drive. It featured lookalikes of major Bollywood stars. The songs were razor-sharp in their criticism. One of them, sung by legendry Kishore Kumar, questioned the very soul of democracy: ' Gandhi tere desh mein, ye kaisa atyachar .' The song disappeared from All India Radio. Kumar had earlier refused to perform at a Congress rally. That one act of defiance had cost him dearly. Another song from the movie, sung by Manna Dey and Mahendra Kapoor, asked, ' Kya mil gaya sarkar Emergency laga ke? ' These tracks echoed the voice of a stifled nation. 'Sholay' Even India's most iconic film was not spared. In its original version, 'Sholay' ended with Thakur killing Gabbar Singh using boots spiked with nails. Censors rejected the ending. The board did not want to glorify vigilante justice. Director Ramesh Sippy fought to retain the original climax. He lost. The scene was reshot. Sanjeev Kumar returned from the Soviet Union just for that. Even Ram Lal's scene – where he hammers nails into the boots – was removed. The censors thought his eyes reflected rebellion. 'Sholay' was released on August 15, 1975. What hit theatres was not the film Sippy had envisioned. 'Aandhi' Gulzar's 'Aandhi' stirred further controversy. The story resembled the life of Indira Gandhi. Audiences drew parallels. The government responded with a ban. The Emergency had no tolerance for metaphors. Dev Anand's Political Detour Some from the Bollywood took it beyond the screen. Dev Anand did not stop at protest. He founded his own political outfit – National Party of India. A massive rally at Shivaji Park followed. In his autobiography, he wrote of feeling hounded by those close to Sanjay Gandhi. His act of defiance came with risk. But he never backed down. Cinema in Chains The Emergency redefined how India looked at cinema. Films were no longer entertainment alone. They became vessels of protest and tools of resistance. Satire turned into a weapon. Despite all the accusations against him, Sanjay Gandhi went to jail because of a reel. That singular fact underlined the power of storytelling. Decades later, those films still speak. 'Kissa Kursi Ka', 'Nasbandi', 'Aandhi' and 'Sholay' – each of them captured a moment of resistance. They remind India of a time when humour frightened the powerful, a lyric became a threat and a scene could be a revolution. Cinema bled in those years. But it also fought back. And won.
The Print
3 days ago
- Politics
- The Print
Newspapers were strangled during Emergency, but stayed alive. Now, they're not even breathing
Be that as it may, this article would like to draw a parallel between the media landscape during the Declared Emergency of the 1970s and the present-day 'Undeclared Emergency'. We will be dealing with the print media because, barring government-owned Doordarshan, there were no electronic, digital or social media during the Declared Emergency. The excesses committed against the print media during that regime have been codified by two commissions set up by the subsequent Janata Party government. The Shah Commission's findings pointed to planned and unabashed government interference to suspend media freedom. Salient highlights of the report were listed by academic Jhumur Ghosh in his paper on press freedom during the Emergency. They are as follows. To drive home the point that the Sangh Parivar are the 'Defenders of Democracy', they went to the extent of declaring 25 June as Samvidhaan Hatya Diwas (Murder of Constitution Day). It was a move meant to 'pay tribute to all those who suffered and fought against the gross abuse of power during the period of emergency, and to recommit the people of India to not support in any manner such gross abuse of power in future.' Today is the 50th anniversary of the infamous Emergency era. The present ruling establishment, which is the beneficiary of this era, has been ruthlessly flogging it and has been claiming all kinds of credit for bringing it to an end. So much so on 26 June 2024, the Lok Sabha speaker, Om Birla, condemned the Emergency in Parliament and appreciated those who opposed it: 'The Emergency had destroyed the lives of so many citizens of India, so many people had died. This House strongly condemns the decision to impose Emergency in 1975. We appreciate the determination of all those people who opposed the Emergency, fought and fulfilled the responsibility of protecting India's democracy…We also believe that our young generation must know about this dark chapter of democracy.' Prime Minister Modi strongly endorsed this action and took this onslaught to the Rajya Sabha also. The government resorted to cutting off the electricity of newspaper offices on 26 June 1975, the day after the Emergency was proclaimed, in order to buy time to set up the apparatus of censorship. Three days later, when the censorship machinery was in place, the power supply resumed. (This was specific to Delhi) The Indian Ministry of Information and Broadcasting designated newspapers as either hostile, friendly or neutral and issued instructions to withhold or reduce advertisements from hostile and neutral newspapers and to increase advertisements in friendly newspapers The Ministry of Information and Broadcasting ordered a study of the newspapers over the six-month period preceding the Emergency in order to determine each newspaper's attitude to the government and to penalise it accordingly. The government tightened its control over newsprint supply through state monopoly, i.e., State Trading Corporation. This was the general picture across India. But in Chandigarh, the capital of the vibrant states of Punjab and Haryana, we had a different kind of experience with The Tribune and The Indian Express. Also read: JP wasn't a saviour of Constitution. He called Mao his guru The Emergency in Chandigarh Even before the ink dried in the Emergency declaration, Giani Zail Singh, Chief Minister of Punjab, called up NP Mathur, Chief Commissioner of Chandigarh Union Territory, directing him to severely discipline the press. He was specific that The Tribune, a household name in the northwestern states of Punjab, Haryana, Himachal Pradesh and Jammu & Kashmir, should be sealed and shut down. Zail Singh even wanted to arrest Madhavan Nair, the Editor of the newspaper. Mathur was in a fix. He did not want any formal orders to be issued. So, he called Senior Superintendent of Police SN Bhanot and passed on the instructions of Zail Singh. But Bhanot declined, saying he would not do anything unless he received written orders from the District Magistrate, which happened to be me! Nevertheless, Bhanot went to The Tribune premises and advised those on duty not to print any news unpalatable to the 'powers-that-be'. He also posted a small posse of policemen to keep a watch. Obviously, this did not have any impact on The Tribune, and the morning paper came out as usual. This infuriated another Chief Minister living in Chandigarh—Chaudhary Bansi Lal of Haryana. In his inimitable style, he threatened that if the Chandigarh Administration was not willing to raid The Tribune, seal its premises and arrest its editor, he would get it done through the Haryana Police. But that threat did not work because we, as civil servants, stood our ground and refused to comply with their orders to shut down the newspaper. All we did was appoint a Censor Officer by invoking the provisions of the Defence of India Rules. The experience of The Indian Express was unique. The newspaper did not have a Chandigarh edition and had applied for a license. This was pending with me when the Emergency was promulgated. Considering the foul atmosphere, I kept it in cold storage instead of rejecting it. As soon as Emergency was defeated in March 1977, I took it up. I was on the verge of clearing the file when RK Mishra, General Manager of the Group, stormed into my office and demanded immediate approval. He said he has come 'walking on the dead body of Indira Gandhi'. That was too much, and I told him so. I added that he can now forget the Chandigarh edition of the newspaper. I thought the matter ended there, but there was a big surprise. Within 24 hours, Ramnath Goenka, the supreme boss, called me not to seek an appointment at my office but with a request to host him for a south Indian breakfast at my residence. I could not deny the old war horse. I knew he was very close to Jayaprakash Narayan, with whom I had established a father-son relationship during his imprisonment at Chandigarh. At the breakfast table, he was all charm and mostly spoke in my mother tongue, Tamil. While departing, he casually mentioned the pending request of The Indian Express. Needless to say, it was cleared immediately thereafter! Shekhar Gupta, now founder and Editor-in-Chief of ThePrint, was among the first set of young and dedicated journalists who put the newspaper on an even keel. Also read: Gandhi wanted limits on media freedom. Not through law, but public opinion A comatose state During the Declared Emergency, all newspapers were published with bland, censored news. Hindi and Urdu newspapers from Jalandhar were published with blank pages, with the words 'Censor ki bendh' (Gift of the Censor) printed on all of them. The Hindustan Times from New Delhi left the entire editorial column blank, reminiscent of the struggle during pre-Independence days against alien rule. Veer Pratap, a Hindi daily from Jalandhar, was more poignant. On the 26 June issue, the editorial page was blank with only an Urdu couplet rubber-stamped all over—'I can neither anguish nor petition; it is my fate to choke and die.' But despite the censorship, the newspapers kept breathing. As soon as the 1977 General Election was announced and Emergency was relaxed, they came back to life and ripped apart the ruling dispensation and its autocratic ways. The Indian National Congress had to pay a heavy price and was soundly defeated at the polls. Rest, as they say, is history! But in the Undeclared Neo-Emergency of the present day, independent media does not even appear to be breathing. Senior Journalist Pamela Philipose calls it 'virtual strangulation'. This is exactly what is happening to the free media now, when the free flow of information is arrested. It slowly loses its ability to exercise agency, and over time, is rendered comatose, much like the human body. This is the landscape of India's media now. Democracy, which the ruling establishment is claiming to defend, is the tragic casualty. Though fifty years is not a very long period historically, shall we exclaim in despair, 'O Tempora! O Mores!' in the manner of Marcus Tullius Cicero. The author was the District Magistrate of Chandigarh and custodian of JP in jail. He had a ringside view of Emergency and has recently written a book titled Emergency and Neo-Emergency: Who will defend Democracy. Views are personal. (Edited by Theres Sudeep)
The Hindu
4 days ago
- Politics
- The Hindu
50 years after Emergency: Encounter killings and a saga of silence
Home Minister Kasu Brahmananda Reddy reached the residence of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi at 10.15 p.m. on June 25, 1975. Within 15 minutes, he drafted a letter with the minutes of the earlier meeting between the PM and the President and appended a draft proclamation for State of Internal Emergency to be signed by Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed. By midnight, the proclamation of emergency was out. On June 22, 1975, Andhra Pradesh Chief Minister J. Vengal Rao was summoned to Delhi by then personal secretary to Prime Minister, R.K. Dhawan in time for the verdict on Indira Gandhi's election from Raibareli in Uttar Pradesh. The stage was set in Delhi and Andhra Pradesh. A different face While it was midnight knocks and detention of political leaders elsewhere in the country, the iron fist of Emergency was felt by student leaders and Naxalites in Andhra Pradesh. According to the Shah Commission, which inquired into the Emergency period, Andhra Pradesh had 1,135 détenus under Maintenance of Internal Security Act (MISA), 45 under Conservation of Foreign Exchange and Prevention of Smuggling Activities Act (COFEPOSA) and 451 under Defence and Internal Security of India Rules (DISIR). These figures also prove that the brunt of the Emergency was felt by those outside the political framework — 512 belonged to banned organisations (350 from CPML) and only 210 were political prisoners while 413 constituted criminals and anti-social elements. 'The bulldozing of shanty towns, encroachments and forced sterilisations happened in the northern part of the country, in Andhra Pradesh however, there were a series of encounter killings. In 21 months, there were 70 encounter deaths. After the 1977 elections, Tarkunde Commission and Bhargava Commission inquired into these killings,' informs journalist and activist N. Venugopal, who had a ringside view of the events due to the detention of his brother-in-law poet Varavara Rao on the eve of Emergency. Within 24 hours of declaration of Emergency, civil rights activist and lawyer K.G. Kannabiran began receiving calls at his Narayanaguda residence. The first call being that of Pattipati Venkateswarlu, who was the secretary of Andhra Pradesh Civil Liberties Committee, about a raid on his home and detention. 'The calls didn't stop. Our home became an open house as PDSU students, political leaders would turn up at all hours of the day and night seeking help. Either it was a calling bell or the ring of the phone. We knew no privacy,' says Kalpana Kannabiran, sociologist and lawyer who translated the memoir of her father K.G. Kannabiran. Killing fields One of the first encounter killings was what became known as Girayapalli encounter. 'Four youths, one of whom was a student of Regional Engineering College, Warangal, were taken in a police van to the Girayapalli forest in Medak district, tied to trees, blindfolded and shot dead on the night of July 25, 1975,' recounts Mr. Venugopal. After the elections, the Organisation for Protection of Democratic Rights sent a list to President B.D. Jatti containing 134 names of persons who were killed in encounters or as the organisation called it 'cold blooded murders'. Among them were Vempatapu Satyam, Panchadi Krishnamurthy, Panchadi Nirmala, Dr Bhaskar Rao, Dr Mallikarjun and Neelam Ramachandra, among others. Home Minister Charan Singh on the floor of Parliament accepted that 50 persons died while being detained under the Maintenance of Security Act across the country but only one from Andhra Pradesh. Socialists, members of Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, Ananda Margis and Naxalites were targeted in Andhra Pradesh during the 21-month Emergency period. Girayapalli encounter was followed by Chilakalgutta incident where Ramanarsiah was picked up from a house in Old Malakpet and killed. It was followed by the Yellandu case where Neelam Ramachandriah and Jampala Chandra Sekhar Prasad were killed. Months after Emergency was lifted, an independent fact-finding committee under former judge V.M. Tarkunde was constituted with eight other members. This report led to the Union government appointing the Bhargava Commission of Inquiry. 'When Chenna Reddy became chief minister, he wanted the hearings to take place in-camera. This was not acceptable to Bhargava who did not complete the inquiry. Even a request for an interim report was not accepted,' says Venugopal. With the inquiry into encounter killing scotched, the deaths of so many young men became a statistic that is not logged in the notorious history of Emergency. Warning on demolitions In the first year of Emergency (1975-76), Andhra Pradesh underperformed in the sterilisation sector with 1,65,163 operations against a target of 2,94,200 set by the Government of India. The next year, it outdid with performance of 7,41,713 sterilisation operations against a target of four lakh. However, there were 25 complaints about use of force for the FP operations. Even with demolitions, A.P. accounted for only 1.8% of total with 75 complaints. In contrast, Delhi had 1248 complaints. The Shah Commission concluded about the excess during Emergency: 'The vast majority of demolitions were carried out by a complete disregard for the sufferings of persons in very humble walks of life and the government could take immediate steps to remedy the wrong and also to ensure that the conditions in the resettlement colonies are rendered safe, clean and convenient.'
