It was an arduous passage to India, in the epic mode. Their father and brother had justbeen executed by the Saddam Hussein regime in 1991 when Anwar and Hazim Hussain fled toIran. After two years in jail and another four traumatic ones underg round, they surfacedat Bandar Abbas port to board MV Ratnadeep, an Indian vessel said to be Europe-bound.Since Hazim, then 26, had a perfunctory knowledge of big engines, he was made to work inthe engine room. Six years his junior, though sickly, Anwar sailed as a deck hand. Afterfive days on the high seas, living on vitamin pills and water, they were told they hadreached. Only, it wasnt a European port they were looking at. It was Vasco, Goa.
And there was no warm reception eitherthe brothers spent their firstone-and-a-half years on Indian soil in familiar fashion: in jail. Meanwhile, theirconstant petitions to the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) and NGOs working withrefugees paid off. The UNHCR issued them a certificate and asked them to register with theForeigners Regional Registration Office (FRRO) in Delhi. Once there , just a coupleof papers away from security, the duo were arrested all over again.
They were then sent to what locals call "the mad-house". Home ministryofficials deny knowledge of its existence. On paper, its a beggar s home. Yetthe sprawling campus of the Lampur Seva Sadan, near the northern Delhi-Haryana border,heavily guarded by paramilitary personnel, is where refugees of uncertain status, or thosewho are to be deported, end up. Here , Hazim s hand was broken by security guardsfor protesting against the ill-treatment of his brother. On January 6, the camp hadsix male refugees, though just a week earlier there were over 75. The fact that all butone of them were Muslims spawned hints that the home ministry had ordered a crack-down onimmigrants from Islamic countries, particularly Afghans who arrived after the Taliban tookover Afghanistan.
"Some of them have been shifted to Tihar Jail, but I dont know where theothers were taken," says camp superintendent P.K. Mehra. He took pains to explainthat his brief was to hold all refugees sent to him by the FRRO till further orders. Hisjob was to provide food and basic amenities.
The six current inmatesthree Afghans, a Sri Lankan, a Burmese and anIranian had no complaints about the way they were treated at the camp, but ragedagainst the officers of the FRRO, accusing them of extortion, blackmail and intimidation."They took Rs 7,000 from me, everything that I had," says an inmate. The Hussainbrothers are just a drop in an ocean. According to UNHCR estimates, India is home to over2.5 million refugees. And yet, it has no law that so much as defines a refugee, leavealone stipulate what to do with them. All foreigners are treated under the Foreigners Actof 1946, which basically calls for the detention and deportation of anyone entering thecountry without valid papers.
The limited mandate given to the UNHCR which deals mainly with Afghans, besides afew Iranians, Somalis and Sudanesefurther complicates the issue. They are recognisedas refugees, paid Rs 1,200 a month, but cannot work in the country. The 10,000 Tibetansand 64,000 Sri Lankans in India are treated under special legislations and the governmentundertakes responsibility for their well-being. Most of them have been given work permits.
But what the absence of law in India leads to, at the ground level, is a carte blanchefor adhoc, arbitrary decisionsnot to mention enough scope for corruption atthe expense of hapless nobodies. Hunger-stricken emigre, political refugee, exiles fromwar or potential saboteur...the verdict hinges on whim, the lines of distinction candisappear according to convenience.
Abdul Tahiri left Mazar-e-Sharif in Afghanistan for Dubai. But he was soon deported toKabul, where the Taliban jailed him. He escaped from a hospital and walked for two days toPeshawar, Pakistan. From there, he took a train to Lahore. Tired, afraid and hungry, hetrudged for a day towards the Indian border, reaching the high barbed wire fence at dusk.
After a night of rebuffs, BSF jawans took pity on him and allowed him in. But he wentstraight to Amritsar jail, where he spent the next six months. He was then freed, only tobe told that he would be deported. A lawyer who noticed him crying in the corridors of theAmritsar court contacted the UNHCR, which flew down some of ficers to interrogate him.Satisfied about his antecedents, they finally issued him a certificate. He was a free manin India.
Hossain Ibrahimi, an Iranian, still dreams of that. He sneaked into India on a forgedAfghan passport. But after landing in Mumbai, he threw it away (since he realised it couldland him in trouble) and went to Bangalore. But he couldnt quite convince the UNHCRabout his bona fides. He came to Delhi, and staged a dharn a outside the UNHCR office .
That didnt work. So he stitched up his lips to enforce the hunger strike. Butthat didnt work either, and he was taken to Lampur. Finally, he was taken to theairport to be deported. "I know they will kill me if I go to Iran. So when they gaveme the papers for my travel, I tore them up at the airport." He is now back inLampur. A new set of papers are being prepared. But, says Hossain, "Ill killmyself first."
Hazim and Anwar Hussain, after stints in Lampur and Tihar, were finally releasedon bail. In December, they gathered a few other Iraqis and staged a hunger strike outsidethe UNHCR office demanding that they be resettled in a third country. But the protestswere equally against the arbitrary functioning of the UNHCR office, which leaves manyrefugees frustrated and harassed. Says Ravi Nair of the South Asia Human RightsDocumentation Centre, "The UNHCR often treats asylum-seekers with an indifference ordisdain that further dehumanises them. Refugees feel they are treated as pests by UNHCRofficers. There are cases of UNHCR arbitrarily suspending the subsistence allowance ofrecognised refugees. The UNHCR has lost the confidence of the refugees in India." Infact, some describe a senior UNHCR officer as a "bloodsucker". They even have acartoon on this officer which was sent to the UNHCR headquarters in Geneva.
Dismissing allegations of high-handedness and lack of transparency, UNHCR chief ofmission Augustine P. Mahiya points out that his organisation has stringent eligibilityprocedures. "In India, there is no law for refugees. The onus for determining refugeestatus rests squarely on us. But we also have inbuilt mechanisms for those who feel theyhave been unfairly treated. They are allowed to appeal to us two or three times. We makeit a point to explain to every refugee why his petition has or has not been accepted. Butit sure would help if the Indian government enacted some law, or gave us some guidelineson eligibility. "
But the government is in no hurry to oblige. It wants the situation to remain hazy."A law is necessary only when it is necessary," says the official who p rofessedignorance about the Lampur camp. "So far, the Foreigners Act has provedadequate. Do we need a new law?" Meanwhile, the Hussain brothersand thousandsof others like themcontinue to live with the constant dread of arrest anddeportation hanging over them.
