South Asians Against Nukes | August 7, 2004
URL: www.s-asians-against-nukes.org/PMANE/AushaktiAmma_May2004.html

Anushakthi Amma
A One-Act Play
by S. P. Udayakumar *

May 15-18, 2004

<drspudayakumar@yahoo.com>

It is year 2015. The Kalankulam Nuclear Power and Bomb Project (KNPBP) has been functioning since 2007. The farming villages, fishing villages, and the dalit villages around Kalankulam had been vacated and the people were removed to a modern hamlet called ëDevelopment Colony.'

Dispossessed of their land/sea and their traditional livelihood, the people are scrapping along in utter poverty and misery. Law and order is maintained by exploiting the hatred the people have for each other. Hindus hate Christians, and Nadars hate Mukkuvars, and they all hate the dalits and vice versa. There are tens of flagpoles with the flags of different political parties fluttering in the air. There is a revenue department office in a small dilapidated one-room building with a sign on the front door 'Camp Visit: KNPBP.'

The KNPBP area has been cordoned off with tall prison-like stonewalls and an electrified fence, and the Central Industrial Security Force (CISF) has been maintaining a strict vigil around the plant from a tall surveillance tower. There is a flurry of activity inside the plant. Well-dressed English-speaking engineers and scientists drive their air-conditioned cars to the plantís front gate, hold up their multi-color laminated id cards and the security guards glance at them through the windshield and let them pass. The parking lot is almost full with a steady stream of cars and trucks coming into the plant.

In the background, all the four chimneys of the nuclear reactors are spitting a constant stream of vapor/smoke (and God knows what else!) that rises high into the sky and dissipates into the thin air. A plethora of massive pipes keep draining millions of gallons of radioactive water into the sea with high amount of low-level radiation. On one of the front chimneys, a huge trompe-líoeil depicts the beaming Bharat Matha (Mother India) holding a saffron flag in her right hand and caressing a roaring male lion by her left hand stepping from the sky so majestically with piercing eyes and an exhilarating grin sending the uplooking onlookers into a nationalistic-cum-religious delirium and awe. The Bharat Matha's feet are firmly set on the southern tip of the India map that is inscribed at the backdrop. Underneath the picture, big bold letters proclaim loudly: 'This Temple of Science gives us Power and First World status.'


Scene I
[Two illiterate village women, Kaliamma and Kannamma, carrying bundles of sticks on their heads halt near the KNPBP to ease their burden a bit and to take a little rest. A CSIF jawan near the front gate shoo the women away from a distance.]

Kannamma: What the hell he loses if we stand here? Even when the master is considerate, his dogs are bitchy. Scoundrel!

Kaliamma: What an irony! He is standing right on our family land. Exactly near those damn gates we had three big tamarind trees, you know. I could feed my children and maintain all the household expenses from those tamarinds. [Sighs heavily] Lost the land, lost the income what did we get? Nothing! Not even the market price for the land.

Kannamma: Meant to ask you how is your daughter doing now? I hear that her baby boy is also sick what a misfortune!

Kaliamma: What can I say? [Silence] After the big operation, she has only one breast to feed. Every time the child cries for milk, she cries too. I am still paying back the operation loans. How can I afford to buy baby food? That bastard, her husband, is f**king a prostitute in the project township. OK, he couldnít take a wife with one breast! But can you imagine abandoning such a beautiful baby boy? My child was so happy and healthy [sobs] last month, I found some swelling on his stomach and neck, the baby was constantly twisting and turning and crying hard all the time [sobs again] he had fever, bleeding gums [sobbing still] my little angel was in agony

Kannamma: [Holding the other womanís right hand] Donít cry did you take him to a doctor?

Kaliamma: I took him to the same government hospital where my daughter had the operation. The doctor said his blood has mistakes look me all or something like that!

Kannamma: Blood mistake, ha? [laughs] The poor boy is not getting enough milk from one breast. Cook fish curry for your daughter, woman. That will get enough milk for the kid.

Kaliamma: What do you think we eat, cakes? All we eat is rice and fish all the time. Fish is almost free after the plant came. The fisherwomen take anything you give for the fish. You know that. The doctor said the fish is the problem.

Kannamma: [Laughing hard] doctors these rich people studying in cities and speaking in English how can fish be the problem? Next, they will say rice is the problem? Then, milk will be the problem. After that, air will become the problem? We may be illiterates but we arenít fools, are we?

Kaliamma: [Looking at naught, mumbles softly] I think he said something like that. Maybe I heard it all wrong. What do we know anyway?

Kannamma: Give the girl lots of fish and get some milk if you can. Cows donít eat fish [chuckles]. And for the baby, letís take him to the Amman Temple. The priest Periasami is my sister-in-lawís uncleís co-brother, you know. He gives some holy water to drink and some blessed sand to put on the forehead cures almost any disease.

Kaliamma: [With a sudden brightness on her face] Really? Can we go this Friday? You must come with me. [Turns to the KNPBP chimney picture and folds her hands] Amma, help my little baby boy! Please! I am poor, unlettered and helpless. Amma!
[Seeing the CISF guard beginning to walk toward them, the women reload themselves with their respective bundles of wood and go away.]

Scene II
[Priest Periasami is sitting in front of the Amman temple, smoking a beedi (local cigarette) and humming a movie song, olimayamana ethirkalam en kannil therikirathu (I can see a very bright and radiant future). The one-room temple has a small Kali statue clad in a red saree inside and a resemblance of the chimney trompe-líoeil on the door. There are four gargouille on all the four roof corners of the temple. Seeing the women come with a baby in hand, he throws away the beedi and grooms himself up to look more ëprofessionalí. He closes his eyes and pretends to be in tapas.]

Kannamma: [In a whispering voice to Kaliamma who is having the baby in her hands] See, I told you this guy is serious. He is in touch with the higher spirits.
Priest: [Slowly opening his eyes and swaying his head up and down in an acknowledging manner] Come, come what brings you to Amma.

Kannamma: Oh, brother this is a relative of mine. And her grandson has some blood mistakes. Government hospital doctor has no idea how to help the child. So I told her about the powers of this Amman and you.
Priest: [Takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and speaks something in tongue. Opening his eyes again, he beckons the woman to bring the child to him. Places his right hand on the babyís head and repeats the previous process again. Opening his eyes and taking his hand back, he mumbles in a hushed voice.] This is NOT blood mistake this is Ammaís ANGER.

Kaliamma: But why what did my little son do to Amma or anyone else. This little life knows nothing bad. [Cries with tears running along her cheeks] Pray, tell me how can I pacify Amma and make her show some mercy to my loving boy.
Priest: Understand Lady Amma is not angry just with your baby she is angry with the whole ìDevelopment Colonyî. How else would you explain all these children with six fingers, seven toes, swollen bellies, balding heads, dysentery, abortions and all these. This is deiva kuttam (deities wronged) We need to pacify Amma.

Kaliamma: But tell us how, Sir.

Priest: Who cares? Who in the Colony cares? Fishermen witness thousands and thousands of dead fish floating in the sea. Farmers are complaining about cows delivering dead calves. There is Ammaís wrath all over on the land, on our water on our sea on the air we breathe on our food even on the milk of our children on all of us ON ALL OF US. [Silence]
[Screams abruptly] At least you believe in Amma and take her wrath seriously. I will ask her to let your child go. [Silence]
[Mumbles softly] Offer Amma 101 coconuts and bring him every Tuesday and Friday to her temple.

Kaliamma: [Shudders at the demand of 101 coconuts] Good Sir, I am a very poor woman and we have no man in our household.

Priest: [Impatiently] Am I asking the coconuts for me to eat, wretched lady? It is Amma who demands it. If it is something too big for you, give her what you can. Give her 101 rupees. Go. [Handing a small bottle of water and a packet of sand] give a few drops of this water to the baby everyday and put a bit of this sand on his forehead for 41 days. He will be fine.

Kaliamma: [Placing the baby at the feet of the priest, accepts the panacea with both hands and dabs it on both her eyes with reverence.] Many thanks to you Sir, many thanks. By hook or crook, I will bring 101 rupees next time.

Scene III
[The local arrack shop outside the Development Colony. There are some fishermen and farmers drinking the locally and illegally brewed cheap arrack. Priest Periasami walks in and orders the ëbartenderí for a big bottle. The bartender protests.]

Bartender: But you already owe me f**king 70 rupees. And you want to drink more now.

Priest: [Fumbles into his pocket, grabs the currency notes, counts in front of everyone] Here, how much you said 70 rupees take your damn money. Give me a big bottle [spits and swears more].

Drunkard 1: Hey, Swami take it easy, swami. You are a holy man you get angry? No, no, no.

Drunkard 2: You getting rich? Sold your magic cure again, ha!
Priest Periasami: [Gulping from the big bottle, nods his head in agreement.] Another woman came from the Colony with another baby.

Drunkard 1: You smart ass we sell our wivesí jewels to drink. They cry and curse and kick us out of the house. We canít go to the f**king sea and get some stupid fish stupid good old fish. But you a royal holy man, God damn holy man [laughs loudly].

Drunkard 2: Yeah, right holy man. They joke about you in the project, you know.
Priest Periasami: Who the hell are they?

Drunkard 2: The danger-zone workers in the plant. They say the Development Colony sickness is because of the power plant. But you say it is some angry Amman.

Priest Periasami: I know, I know it is the ëradio lightí of the plant that is haunting us, you idiot.

Drunkard 1: But you lie to the Colony women anyway.

Drunkard 2: And [laughs loudly] giving them more ëradio lightí seawater.
Priest Periasami: Shut up, you stupid assess. Heard Unani medicine? Drinking your own urine for your disease? I do just that. Radio light sea water and plant sand to the people who suffer from radio light. Nobody helps them; I do my bit. I give them some hope in this time of gloom and suffering.

Drunkard 1: Iíve seen you collect seawater. But how you get plant sand?

Priest Periasami: [Pointing to Drunkard 2] He brings me he digs all the shit holes in the power plant.

Drunkard 2: They are NOT shit holes, you bastard. We let the radio light water into the sea.

Drunkard 1: Ah that explains why Swami worships you. You are the Swami of Swamis. Super Swami!

Priest Periasami: Shut up, you dumb ass. [Approaches Drunkard 1 menacingly.]

Bartender: Hey, hey, guys, pick up your dumb asses and pack up. I am done for the day.

Scene IV
[The air-conditioned KNPBP Conference Hall. Sitting at the center of the dais is Dr. D.A.E. Das, who is the Supreme Commander of the Nuclear Industry of India. Seated on his right is the Chairman of India with the dreaded nuclear button that, on a small push, can obliterate the whole of South Asia. At the back of D.A.E. Das are the Three Holinesses, Paramhans Powermaniacharya, Janab al-Muslim all-I-care, and Father Ignorantacious, followed by the Supreme Attorney Honorable Mr. Blindeyer, the National Editors Guild Chief Mr. Biglier, and the Governmentís Principal Secretary Mr. Bootlicker. Every time Dr. D.A.E. Das releases some radioactive gas, his accompaniments take a deep breath and go into a state of delirious trance. If and when they seem to be coming to their senses, Dr. D.A.E. Das farts again and sends them to their ìdevelopedî stage.
There are investors, stockholders, Generals, scientists, engineers, geologists, seismologists, doctors and most importantly, people from the AERB, Atomic Energyís Reliable Backers, sitting off the stage in the hall.
The massive incidence of cancers in ëDevelopment Colonyí has forced these ëhighly educatedí, and heavily paid/plundering people to deal with the issue at hand and absolve themselves of the crime against humanity.]

Dr. D. A. E. Das: Friends, I hope we all know why we are here. There seems to be some kind of a magical curse on the Development Colony that has been reported to the world by some unpatriotic, anti-national, unscientific, irrational, immoral, unobjective, and anti-development ugly hippies. These tree-hugging, butterfly-loving, earth-kissing bandits are against Indiaís emerging as another United States of India, the great, majestic, imperial USI!
[His voice rising, body shivering, hands trembling, Dr. D. A. E. Das begins to deliver an evangelical sermon on development and first world status. All others in the room fall to their knees and pray in unison.]
Amma, make us developed!

Anushakti Amma, make us developed!

All powerful Amma, All powerful Amma,

All powerful Anushakti Amma,

All powerful Amma make us developed!

Developed make us Amma, Anushakti Amma!

Give us Bombs, a lot of Bombs, Bombs with capital B!

Grant us Atomic Reactors, all powerful Atomic Reactors!

Make us think like Americans, speak like Americans,

Make us feel like Americans and behave like Americans!

Anushakti Amma, skin us and strip us of our originality,

Dignity, and itty-bitty credibility

And make us look like Americans!

Make us developed!

[At the end of the prayer, all the people in the room stand in line and approach Dr. D. A. E. Das with bowed heads and folded hands. Dr. D. A. E. Das thrusts a wad of irradiated currency notes into everybodyís pockets, hugs them warmly and kisses on their cheeks. Then Dr. D. A. E. Das claps his hands]

Dr. D. A. E. Das: Let the show...er...I mean, enquiry begin!

An AERB Representative: Was an Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) done for the project?

Dr. D. A. E. Das: Yes, of course. We are so conscientious and compunctious and compassionate that we did the EIA as early as in 1988 for the 2007 project.

AERB: And, of course, you shared that with the public and they knew the possible eventualities; nonetheless, they still chose to live so close to the plant. Am I right?

Dr. D. A. E. Das: Er...hmm... we ah wanted to release it to the public. But it is very bulky, you see moreover, they donít read English and those who can read English canít understand this hard science and most of those who can understand all of it are already bought by us, I mean, employed by us.

AERB: Thatís fair enough. And, of course, you held a Public Hearing where people could express their concerns after reading the EIA?

Dr. D. A. E. Das: Er...hmm...we...ah...spoke to gullible farmers about bringing water to their villages, gave innocent fishermen computers to check the prices of the fish they will never be able to catch, brainwashed college students about non-existent job opportunities at the plant, they all accepted what we said nobody objected.

AERB: Thatís very kind of you. And you obtained permission from the State Government Pollution Control Authority before you set up the power plant, I suppose?

Dr. D. A. E. Das: Er...hmm...we...ah...set up the plant first and told them that there will be no pollution problem and they were kind enough to accept the permission we brought from Delhi.

AERB: Excellent, you have followed all the procedures so diligently. I must congratulate you. In my assessment, it is not because of you these people are suffering. They should have used all this info and migrated to Sri Lanka or the Maldives in 2007.
An over-enthusiastic Journalist: I hear people in Sri Lanka and the Maldives seem to have similar problems too.
Dr. D. A. E. Das [with obvious annoyance] Who the hell is he? Talking anti-India politics in an Indian meeting. Take the currency notes out of his pocket and get rid of this dog.

[The journalist is kicked out of the hall even as he is screaming, « Iím a patriotic Indian Iím very patriotic « ]

Dr. D. A. E. Das: [Turning to Dr. Healthseller] Dr. Healthseller, could you please read the report that we have prepared.

Dr. Healthseller: [Adjusting his tie and clearing his throat, bows to Das] Friends, the southern coast of the peninsula from Chavara in Kerala to Thoothukudi in Tamil Nadu has always had high background radiation. There have been several studies on this. Even popular magazines like Frontline have published articles on this in the 1990s. From all these evidences, it is clear the KNPBP has no role in this sudden surge of cancer at the Development Colony. I thank Dr. D. A. E. Das for giving me this great opportunity to serve the people of India.

Dr. D. A. E. Das: You are welcome, Dr. Healthseller. Thank you for that fantastic scientific analysis. Justice Blindeyer, it is my understanding that no Public Interest Litigation petition has been filed on this issue. Am I right?

Attorney Blindeyer: My Lord er what am I saying I am the Lord. Dear Lord of the Land, I should remind you of the Law of the Land. According to our Most Sacrosanct, Most Sanctimonious, Most Sacriligious Modern Manu Smriti, all Indians are equal but some Indians are more equal. Likewise, all information is equal but some information is more equal. So only the more equal Indians can have the more equal information. Most importantly, our Official Secrets Act, Atomic Bomb and Power Act and all such anti-human laws forbid us from giving any equal information to any equal Indian. All that equals to justice.

Dr. D. A. E. Das: Thank you Sir. Your kind cooperation in summarily rejecting all the cases and petitions against this Sacred Cow Department has been crucial in upholding the Law of the Land. You serve justice. [Turning to other friends] I should acknowledge the cooperation of our other good friends, Editor Biglier, Secretary Bootlicker, and the Three Holinesses, Paramhans Powermaniacharya, Janab al-Muslim all-I-care, and Father Ignorantacious in dealing with this important issue.

Editor Biglier: Our correspondent visited the Development Colony and forwarded your press releases last week. We see no health crisis there. Some anti-national, anti-democratic and anti-development forces are creating unnecessary rumors against our being self-reliant in energy. The press needs power that brings in money and POWER.

Secretary Bootlicker: [Turning to D. A. E. Das] You are the Mother of All Departments. And like a mother, you are taking good care of us all. Forget about these little people, and keep going. The Indian State is with you!

The Three Holinesses: [Joining hands in prayer] Oh, God we may fight on the streets but here we are united in blessing this sacred department for they are so kind and nice to us, holy men. Blessed are those who bribe the Holy Men with capital H for God will bribe them even more!

Dr. D. A. E. Das: Thank you all, my friends, for supporting this thorough-going enquiry into the development issues of Development Colony. [Turning to Chairman of India] Well, do you have anything to say, Mister Chairman?
Chairman: My government of the crooks, by the crooks and for the nukes grants you 500 crores of rupees more this year. As usual, you have no obligations whatsoever no budget, no accounts, no parliamentary debates.

Scene V
[The ëDevelopment Colonyí cancer crisis is getting out of hand. The Kaliamma household is deeply immersed in more poverty, misery and agony. Her daughter Azhagamma, whose other breast has also been removed, is lying on the bed in pain. And next to her lies the little Balan. The health of the boy has also deteriorated immensely. With hardly any life left, the child twitches incessantly and occasionally squeals.]

Kaliamma: [Sitting next to the bed and the two sick members of the family, cries so hard] Donít cry my children donít cry Iím not able to take it anymore. Why are my children buried in pain like this.
I named you Azhagamma my darling daughter was it to see you disfigured like this? I raised you like a queen was it to see you die a miserable death? I never hurt you, my baby was it to see you die of agonizing pain?
Youíd never hurt even a little fly. Youíd never deny anybody anything. But you lie rejected husband deserted, community disappeared, government rejected, now even the God-sent gift is also going away!
[Balan wails suddenly] donít cry, little sweetheart, donít cry amma is already in pain but your cry would be a bigger pain.
How many dreams I dreamt for you I canít even get some pain medicine for you both my heart is aching
[Holding her chest] Amma, Devi, why are you punishing me like this. Where can I go? Who can I ask for help?
Relatives have fled; neighbors are gone; government seen nowhere; even God seems to have gone into hiding.
I donít understand what is going on all around me what is this can somebody tell me what the hell is going on around me? Why my children are suffering like this?

They say foodís become poison water dangerous even wind and rain are killers and and land and crops and cows murder people? Strange nonsensical unheard of oddities. Land killing life? Sounds like mother killing her children.
I think it is a big powerful ghost that is haunting the whole earth. Even the Kadans, and Madans and Kalis have failed to protect us. Poor they, what can they do? Little gods and goddesses pitted against these huge monstrous ghosts. [Turning to the plant chimneys] they dwarf us all - men, women, children, cattle, and even deities. [Staring at the trompe-líoeil] I thought I thought you were bringing jobs, joy, opportunities and prosperity, high life and happiness but but you are bringing death, desolation, misery, agony you are swallowing my children alive even when I am watching you bitch you wretched bitch I wonít let you I want to kill you I will kill you I want my children my children [starts throwing stones all around her and falls unconscious].

[Two days later, on April 26, 2015, there is a flurry of activity in and around the KNPBP plant with sirens screaming, loudspeakers blaring, helicopters fluttering, radios and TVs hollering, wall-posters appearing all over alerting people that there has been a major accident at the KNPBP. Or was it a terrorist attack from the sea? No one seems to know when it happened, or what really happened, or how. Nobody knows and nobody tells. But it is clear something terrible has happened. And people within 30 Kms radius of Kalankulam are being evacuated in a hurry, a real hurry. There is no command and control center, no clear instructions from anyone, there is utter confusion all over. People who have cars and trucks gather basic things and flee with their family members and close relatives. Villagers clog up the roads carrying sacks full of personal belongings, children and aged parents and grandparents. Nobody knows who or what it is they are fleeing from.
To make matters worse, there are vague official insinuations for the people who are trapped in the southernmost corner of India: ìPeople of Kanyakumari, please run toward the plant! Donít flee westwards into Kerala because the damp westerly winds carry heavy amount of radiation and will pursue you.î ìPeople of Kanyakumari, please donít jump into the sea. It is very deep, rocky and rough all along the coastline. You canít swim easily. Moreover, massive amount of radioactive water has just been released into the sea.î
It looks like a battle zone, another partition exodus, no a swamp of locusts dissipated by a whirlwind. People wish they knew their enemy, they could see him and strangle this heartless monster. Alas, the enemy is invisible and invincible.
Wearing dark yellow protective gear and gasmasks, panicky rescue workers descend on the ëDevelopment Colonyí and literally force everyone to leave. They go door by door and come to the Kaliamma household.]

Rescue Workers: Who is here? Get out and go go go! LEAVE NOW!

Kaliamma: [Sitting there like a stone] GO? Where? Where do I go? Leaving my children here? Like this?

Rescue Workers: AMMA, PLEASE UNDERSTAND! WE are NOT safe here anymore.

Kaliamma: Is there anything safe here anymore? Tell me anything at all?

Rescue Workers: Please get out NOW. We can carry these two people to the truck, if you want.

Kaliamma: If you want? Do I want? Carry them where? Back to their normal life? Back to their healthy life?

Rescue Workers: YOU STUPID WOMAN, DONíT YOU GET IT? Everything is spoiled here!

Kaliamma: Yes, my land, my life, my children, my dreams, our future everything is spoiled [cries uncontrollably]. No, no everything is not spoiled one thing is still safe you cannot spoil it you cannot even touch it you cannot even come close to it.
[Even as she speaks, she rummages around the room like a maniac. As if they got a clue, the baby screams on top of his voice, and the breastless daughter holds her chest and shrieks ìAmma Ammaî. The perplexed rescue workers hurriedly get out and start running away. They halt at a safe distance and look back. The thatched house was on fire with all the three helpless human beings packed inside. Flames all over! The KNPBP trompe-líoeil ëAnushakthi Ammaí glows scarily behind the inferno.]

Rescue Workers: [Holding their heads on their hands] The only thing not spoiled!

Curtain

S. P. Udayakumar is a writer and social activist based at Nagercoil, India. He thanks Dietrich Fischer, Johan Galtung, Roland Egger, Evelyn Thornton, M. V. Ramana, Sornam Sankarapandi, and M.G. Devasahayam for their comments and suggestions.
This play is dedicated to the children of southern Tamil Nadu and southern Kerala with the solemn hope that they may not have to live through this horrible nightmare.
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* S. P. Udayakumar is a Coordinator of People's Movement Against Nuclear Energy (PMANE) and puts out an email newsletter 'Red Earth' to spearhead the struggle against the Koodankulam nuclear power plant in Tamil Nadu, India