C'da, Thank you. It is interesting, but very little surprises me any more. This kind of corruption is probably one of the worst kinds. Men trying to get rid of thier wives incompetent is not just restricted to India (I am not saying that it makes it any less sickening). Throughout the MiddleEast, Pakistan, and African countries like Nigeria and Kenya, there are numerous examples of men building up trumped up charges in some Kangaroo court or panchayat to marginalize or divorce their wives.
Unfortunately corruption is one of the biggest problems facing India today. In India the word 'democracy' carries many meanings: like the the right to cheat and steal, if you can get away with it, the right to break & destroy Govt. property, the right to have bandhs every other day, the right to chaos, and so on. Again, I am forced to borrow Barua's phrase - Hobo Diok :-) --Ram On 6/13/05, Chan Mahanta <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > Ram: > > I thought you might find this of interest. > > (Emphasis mine) > > c-da > > > > > > The Price of Insanity > > > HAVE YOU BROUGHT THE MONEY? FIRST, GIVE ME THE MONEY > A greedy and corrupt government psychiatrist, whose job it is to heal > patients at Agra's mental asylum, is caught colluding with heartless > husbands who want to dump their wives. He charges a mere Rs 5,000 to certify > poor, disempowered women mentally ill and testifies to his own falsehoods in > court. Jamshed Khan rips the cover off a sordid saga > > Rupees Five Thousand. That's all it takes to declare normal women mentally > ill. That's all it takes to dump wives. The bucks go a long way in > destroying the lives of poor, powerless women. Women who have no chance in > hell of fighting back. Women who fall prey to a silent and sickening > conspiracy hatched by their husbands with the connivance of a senior > government doctor. A psychiatrist, mind you, not some quack. A doctor who is > supposed to heal and soothe, a doctor who is supposed to help mentally ill > patients rejoin their families. > > At the centre of this sordid saga is Dr SK Gupta, senior psychiatrist at > the Agra mental hospital. Kingpin? Pimp? What should one call him? He > gleefully pockets money, confidently puts his stamp on false certificates > and then even goes to court to once again testify to his own falsehoods. His > 'fame' seems to have travelled. By his own admission, he has "successfully > helped" ten men dump their wives. Sometimes husbands come to him. Sometimes > he seeks them out. Tehelka managed to meet him within a day of trying. He's > available, ever ready to pocket the bucks. > > Take 32-year-old Rajni and her husband, sorry ex-husband, Rakesh Sharma. A > driver on the Agra-Mathura route, Rakesh met doctor Gupta because he once > travelled in his vehicle. He asked him why he looked troubled and then > offered to help him. "I'll find a solution for your tension, come and see me > at home,'' he said. A few days later, Rakesh paid him a visit and the > conspiracy was hatched behind closed doors. Rakesh wanted to get out of his > marriage and Dr Gupta, well, he had found another prey. He explained the > procedure to Rakesh: he would stamp a certificate on his letter head. The > certificate would read, "Rajni is taking treatment... for schizophrenic form > psychosis (mental disorder) and has been under my observation for over two > months." The 'mental disorder' would help Rakesh fight a divorce case. The > doctor then also told him that it would involve Rs 5,000 and asked Rakesh if > he would pay. > > He did and Rajni was dumped. Rajni was divorced on the basis of a > non-existent 'mental disorder'. Dr Gupta had not once glanced at her, or > examined her. She is now back home. Her mama's (maternal uncle) house is > what she now calls home. Her parents are dead and she has no siblings. "I > don't know how many lives he has ruined; I want him brought to book," says > Rajni, about Dr Gupta. Sitting in a lower middle-class, two-room house in a > UP town, she says that she couldn't afford to even appeal for a medical > re-examination.. Her trauma is evident in her own words. "Meri koi badnami > to nahi hogi? (People won't cast aspersions on me, will they?) As for her > husband Rakesh, well, this is what he had to say when Tehelka caught up with > him, "What could her family do when I had got her certified mad. What > objection could they have raised?" > > Rakesh sings like a bird when told that we want to procure a similar > certificate. He tells us how he bribed Dr SK Gupta. How he did it only > because he wanted to remarry and not because there was anything wrong with > his wife. (see box) He didn't know a camera was recording him. > > Neither did Ajit, a 25-year-old video cameraman from Firozabad, who says he > is confident of getting a divorce from his wife Manju. The reason: he too > has a certificate from Dr Gupta declaring Manju mad. Ajit says the good > doctor has assured him that he will testify in court for Ajit. The case is > still on. > > The story of Sonkar Singh, a shoe trader from Kanpur, is the same. His > wife, Vimla, is perfectly normal. Dr Gupta declared her insane. Singh paid > Dr Gupta Rs 5,000. Dr Gupta has again assured him of coming to the court as > a witness to his wife's "sychophrenic form psychosis". Singh is caught on > audiotape. > > The startlingly candid confessions of these men is not the real story. It's > the prologue. The real story begins when Tehelka dives headlong into the > muck to catch the guilty redhanded. On camera. It's a story that will take > you into the shadowy world of government mental healthcare in the country. > We went to the most high profile one and found it stinking. > > 10:30am, February 16, 2004: The security room of the Mansik Swasthya > Sansthan And Chikitsalya in Agra is buzzing with activity. You approach > Manohar Singh Tomar, a retired army hawaldar who has been working as a > security guard in the hospital for a year. You ask him how to get someone > admitted. As he rattles off the procedure, you whisper in his ear, "I need > to get a certificate issued." He gives you the once over and leads you > outside, under a tree. You tell him you are Rohit Sharma, a Delhi-based > travel agent, and that you want to divorce your wife. You tell him she's > perfectly normal, but you need her declared mad. You ask him if it's > possible. He smiles. He tells you that in this world, anything is possible > if you dole out some cash. "Fauj se retire hone ke baad pata chala ki > kya-kya hota hai (After I retired from the army, I got to see the real > world)," he adds. He assures you he will introduce you to Dr SK Gupta. "Aap > yeh maan kar chalo ki aapka kaam ho gaya (rest, assured, your work is as > good as done)." > > Manohar tells you that the doctor's 'fees' vary, depending on how long you > want to show the 'patient' has been 'treated'. Ask him how much will be his > cut and he plays philosopher. "Main kewal aapke paap ka bhagidaar ban raha > hoon (I am just becoming a partner in your sin)." > > From philosophy, Manohar switches to economics. He tells you that Dr Gupta > will charge Rs 5,000 to issue the certificate. No need to bother to get your > wife to the hospital, he adds. After a brief reconnaissance trip into the > hospital, Manohar tells you Dr Gupta is out of town. He'll be back by > evening. Manohar instructs you to come the next morning. > > 11am, February 17: Manohar tells you that Dr Gupta is in today. And that he > will meet you soon. The hospital is out of bounds for outsiders. You wait in > Manohar's room, chatting him up. The doctor arrives in his white Maruti at > about 12.30pm. Manohar rushes to the car, you follow. Manohar introduces you > to the doctor and briefs him about your 'problem'. Dr Gupta asks you to meet > him after half-an-hour. He is going out for lunch. > > Thirty minutes later, Dr Gupta is waiting for you at the hospital gate. He > takes you inside, and blatantly asks for Rs 500 as consultation fee. As you > reach for your wallet, Dr Gupta suddenly gets stage fright. "Yaar marvaoge > kya. Hospital mein kisi ney agar dekh liya to gadbad ho jayega (You'll get > me into trouble. If someone from the hospital finds out there'll be hell to > pay." Then begins the search for a safe place. Dr Gupta is taking no > chances. He doesn't want to even take the consultation fee in his own room. > Finally, he finds a vacant room. No sooner than you enter does he ask you > for the money. You pay up. > > Dr Gupta tells you that he is not going to admit your wife to the hospital. > He will, instead, issue the certificate on his private letter head. It will > say that she has been his patient. He also tells you that he will testify in > the court if need be. He says he has handled such cases before. He assures > you that in each of the cases, the husband got the divorce he wanted. > > But, you ask him, what happens if the woman's family appeals in court > against the certificate? "Iskey liye bhi aapko andar milna hi padega (Even > for that, the solution is with some 'insiders')." He tells you the > procedure. The court will write to Agra hospital for verification as your > wife is from up. State verification is done only in the same state and that > too by the government mental hospital. So, he says, you can get the > verification report of your choice by bribing another doctor of the Agra > mental asylum. You can't help but marvel at the efficiency of the corrupt > nexus. > > But won't it be obvious in court that your wife isn't mad? Dr Gupta smiles > enigmatically. He says he will prove that it doesn't mean that she will not > fall mentally ill in future. His certificate will say that the woman needs > further observation. Dr Gupta says that his being a government doctor will > also carry a lot of weight. The court is unlikely to order a second > verification of your wife's mental health, he informs you. > > Like a seasoned professional, Dr Gupta adds a rider - he cannot guarantee > the court judgement. He will, however, give you the certificate without even > meeting your wife. He will charge Rs 10,000 for that. But the transaction > must be carried out outside the hospital. "Hospital mein paiso ki baat karli > yahi bahut hai" (We've decided the money within the hospital, that's > enough)," he says. You leave Dr Gupta with the promise of a meeting next > morning at his residence. > > 11:30am, February 18: You meet Dr Gupta in his house. Not with the money, > but more questions. Ask him if you can dump your wife in the hospital, and > he says it's difficult. He says there might be a furore if her family > members land up at the hospital. You can dump her here after you get the > divorce, the friendly doctor advises. > > Ask him why he won't issue the certificate in his own letter head, and he > has a ready reply. He says he is a government servant, and that is good > enough. If he issues the certificate on the hospital letter head, there are > possibilities of the matter being leaked. Dr Gupta assures you that "no one > on earth can challenge the validity" of his certificate. He shows you court > summons he received on the cases he 'handled'. Feigning conviction, you > depart, with the promise of meeting Dr Gupta at 7pm the next evening. > > On the decided day and time, you call up Dr Gupta, only to be told by his > wife that he is away. You ask her to tell Dr Gupta that you will meet him > the next morning at 7pm. 7am, February 20: Dr Gupta is waiting for you in > his house. As soon as you enter, he starts writing the certificate. He is > fidgety. After a while, he is blatant. "Ab aap paisa nikaalo (Out with the > money)" You assure him that you are indeed carrying the money. You play your > role, and ask him if the certificate will indeed get you the divorce. Dr > Gupta replies nonchalantly: "Court mein judge ko bhi khila pila key talaq le > sakte ho (You can also secure the divorce by bribing the judge)". Ask him if > there are other doctors who do this kind of thing, and Dr Gupta is equally > nonchalant. "Kya koi prostitute khol key khadi ho jayegi? Kahegi ki mein > prostitute hun? (Will a prostitute ever declare herself as one?)" > > You take the certificate from Dr SK Gupta. And pay him Rs 10,000. You walk > out, slightly dizzy. You have just caught on camera a government doctor with > one of the biggest mental hospitals of the country taking a bribe and > declaring a non-existent person mad. He didn't bother to check your address, > never mind seeing his 'patient' in person. Yes, he did ask for her name, so > he could put it in the certificate. And yes, he also asked for her > educational qualifications and charged Rs 10,000 from you because you said > she was a graduate. Perhaps better off than his other victims who are poor > and disempowered and have no resources to fight back. > > That's not the end. There is an epilogue. Tehelka learnt that earlier, > dumping poor, innocent and hapless women as lunatics was a norm in > government hospitals. But for fear of a crackdown, government doctors have > changed their modus operandi. Now they just write certificates. > > Tehelka learnt that earlier, dumping poor, innocent and hapless women as > lunatics was a norm in government hospitals. But for fear of a crackdown, > government doctors have changed their modus operandi. Now they just write > certificates > > Tehelka spoke to several patients at the hospital. There are some who have > been there for 40 years. Their families never bother to visit them, forget > taking them home. Most of the patients are victims of family feuds over > property. "Yahan par log 40-40 saal purane hai. Jinko koi lene nahin aata. > Aur gharwale property dispute ke chakkar main bharti kara jaatey hai. (There > are people here who have been languishing in the hospital for all of 40 > years. Their family members have dumped them here for property" adds the > all-knowing Manohar. Even Dr Gupta informed Tehelka that he was always ready > to take in people who their family members wanted declared lunatic and > dumped to rot in the hospital. He also told Tehelka of another use for > lunacy. If a government employee is suspended for graft, his punishment can > be mitigated if he can prove that he's mentally unstable. "Aath se dus > hazaar ke beech main kharcha aayega (Expenses vary from Rs 8,000-10,000)," > adds the resourceful and helpful doctor. > > Dr Gupta is probably not the only doctor doing this. Manohar not the only > middleman. Agra not the only place. There probably are several, if not > hundreds, of Manohars ready to collude with crime. There are quite a few, if > not many, Guptas misusing the authority vested on them. The Tehelka sting > operation has caught one government doctor at one hospital accepting a bribe > on tape to declare sound women mentally sick. But it is just one symptom. > The disease is more widespread, more terrifying. It needs urgent attention, > investigation, perhaps even redressive legislation. > > (All tapes have been edited and transcripts translated from Hindi) > _______________________________________________ Assam mailing list [email protected] http://pikespeak.uccs.edu/mailman/listinfo/assam Mailing list FAQ: http://pikespeak.uccs.edu/assam/assam-faq.html To unsubscribe or change options: http://pikespeak.uccs.edu/mailman/options/assam
