French President Emmanuel Macron has postponed a trip to Germany due to begin on Sunday after a fourth night of rioting in cities across France, as family and friends buried the teenager whose killing by police unleashed the unrest.

The killing of 17-year-old Nahel M. during a police traffic stop this week was a depressingly familiar addition to France’s list of police brutality cases. But when the UN called on the government to address racial discrimination in its police force, the official reaction was just as familiar and depressing for France’s minorities.

The family of Nahel M, a 17-year-old of Algerian and Moroccan descent who was shot by a police officer during a traffic stop on Tuesday, held a private funeral at a mosque in Nanterre, a Paris suburb.

We are concerned by the killing of a 17-year-old of North African descent by police in France,” UN human rights office spokeswoman Ravina Shamdasani told a press briefing in Geneva.

“This is a moment for the country to seriously address the deep issues of racism and discrimination in law enforcement,” she added.

Shamdasani’s comments echoed innumerable statements released over the past few years by international rights groups, such as Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, calling on the French state to address “systematic discrimination” particularly “the use of ethnic profiling” during identity checks.

If the UN human rights office believed the police killing of the teenager of Algerian descent, named Nahel M., could be the “moment” for an official French reckoning, it proved to be mistaken.

Shortly after the press conference in Geneva, the French foreign ministry released a statement rejecting the UN’s accusation of racism among its police. “Any accusation of racism or systemic discrimination in the police force in France is totally unfounded,” the foreign ministry said.

Race is a thorny issue in France, a nation that has become multi-ethnic since World War II and the subsequent decolonisation of several African and Asian countries.

The atrocities committed during World War II – including the complicity of the Vichy regime in deporting French Jews to Nazi concentration camps – continue to haunt the issue of ethnic and racial identity in France. The post-war state that emerged from the ashes of World War II is officially colour blind, grants equality to all its citizens, and tends to address social inequalities using class or geographic criteria.

But in the geographic neighbourhoods that experience the worst of police brutality and discrimination, that argument fails to persuade ethnically diverse residents.

Violent clashes continued on Friday night, despite the deployment of some 45,000 police officers backed by light armoured vehicles, and a similar number of police will again be on the street on Saturday night, according to the interior ministry.

The ministry said on Twitter that 1,311 people had been arrested overnight, compared with 875 the previous night, although it added the violence was “lower in intensity”.

Justice Minister Eric Dupont-Moretti said 30 percent of detainees were under 18.

Looting and rioting took place in the cities of Lyon, Marseille and Grenoble with bands of youths pillaging shops, setting fires and pelting officers with projectiles.

Finance minister Bruno Le Maire said more than 700 shops supermarkets, restaurants and bank branches had been “ransacked, looted and sometimes even burnt to the ground since Tuesday”.

Rioters in Marseille, France’s second-largest city, looted a gun store and stole hunting rifles but no ammunition, police said.

Marseille’s Mayor Benoit Payan called on the government to send extra troops to tackle “pillaging and violence” after three police officers were slightly wounded on Saturday.

Events including two concerts at the Stade de France on the outskirts of Paris were cancelled, while LVMH-owned fashion house Celine cancelled its 2024 menswear show on Sunday, according to Women’s Wear Daily.

Tour de France organisers said they were ready to adapt to any situation when the cycle race enters the country on Monday from Spain.

Violence also erupted in some French overseas territories, where a 54-year-old died late Thursday after being hit by a stray bullet in French Guiana.

On the small Indian Ocean island of Reunion, protesters set rubbish bins ablaze, threw projectiles at police, and damaged cars and buildings, officials said. Some 150 police officers were deployed there on Friday night.

World Opinions + Agencies

L’article Teen’s killing raises a French policing issue that dare not be named.. Video est apparu en premier sur زوايا ميادين | Mayadin Columns.

Is there any such thing as a “salt tooth”? We are familiar with a sweet tooth, and sugar cravings, along with the negative effects of those. We are broadly aware of the downsides of too much salt, including high blood pressure, which puts pressure on the blood vessels, the heart and the kidneys. It can also lead to water retention.

The British Heart Foundation concluded last year that if everyone brought their consumption down to the World Health Organization salt limit of 5g a day by 2030, the result would be up to 1.4m fewer new cases of high blood pressure, 135,000 fewer new cases of coronary heart disease, up to 49,000 fewer new cases of stroke and more than 450,000 extra years in good health.

But salt is not considered a dietary luxury, even though 40% of people, according to a YouGov poll, would put crisps way above chocolate in the treat hierarchy. We don’t tend to police how much we eat – at least, not as rigorously as with sugar – or question whether we are innocently listening to our bodies, which need some salt for basic muscle function, or are in the grip of a compulsion.

A salt tooth is quite unlike a sweet tooth in that it doesn’t create an appetite for itself at the hormone level. Sugar has a well-documented impact on blood glucose, which, unhelpfully, makes you want more sugar. If salt drives an appetite for anything, it’s lager. But salt does make your palate acclimatise, so that the more you eat, the more you need to get the same salty hit. This is why chefs can get heavy-handed with it.

It is so incredibly useful in food manufacturing – for palatability, in preservation – that it is unsurprising, particularly where the ingredients are cheap and need to be camouflaged, to find high levels of salt in most processed foods. This creates a feedback loop between manufacturers and chains, as Henry Dimbleby, the food campaigner and co-founder of Leon, describes: “I think two things may be at play. First, it is clear that we can develop palates that become sensitised to salt, so you can see why there might be a tendency to add more. I have had people complain to me that they took salt out of their pizza and customers switched to a saltier competitor. If you have significant chunks of vegetables or meat in a dish, the perceived saltiness can also go down over time as the salt moves out of the sauce and into the meat or veg, where it has less impact on the tongue.”

The WHO estimates that 80% of the salt we consume has been added during a manufacturing process. Indeed, that is probably the easiest way to reduce intake – to stop eating things you didn’t make yourself.

As Sam Bloom, a nutritional therapist, explains: “With salt what is generally more concerning is the fat that is used in conjunction with it, eg salty crisps, fries and fast food. Ready meals are often the worst for hidden salts. Anything that adds flavour that isn’t a spice or herb will probably have salt added to it and is likely to cause cravings… as its flavouring makes you want to eat more. The salt and fat combination in these foods are what cause problems with cholesterol.” She adds: “The salt that people add to a meal made from scratch is much less concerning.”

But the connection between obesity and salt intake runs deeper than KFC. According to Dr Stuart Grice, a geneticist and the chief scientific officer at FitnessGenes, our desire for salt can be genetically driven and “the same genes that lead to a higher intake of salty food, and salt sensitivity, have been linked with obesity”. Particular genetic variants affect the way different people perceive the taste of salt, Grice continues, which intuitively makes sense of the connection between salt craving and obesity; if you find salt more delicious, you probably find food more delicious. Then there is a second-tier link, whereby “salt is often found in processed and high-fat foods, which are craved by individuals with genetic makeups that increase their risk of weight gain,” Grice says.

Nutritionists’ language of substitution – when you want a Snickers, try a banana – has always struck me as demonstrating a poor understanding of cravings. If the desire were fungible, it wouldn’t be a craving; you would just be hungry. Yet Grice’s careful description of what you could have instead of a pub salad (crisps mixed with peanuts) is convincing: “When a salt craving hits, avoid going straight for salty snack foods such as crisps and instead ensure you are well hydrated. Seek out whole foods, such as olives and leafy greens, which are rich in polyphenols, magnesium and calcium. These foods will help you alleviate salt cravings, which may often be due to a desire for nutrient-rich food.”

Your body can tell you things, sure, but it doesn’t have a large vocabulary. You may think it is shouting “salt”, but it’s actually shouting “minerals”.

Last week, I had crisps for five consecutive meals. Just in case you want to know whose side I am on.

World Opinions + The Guardian.com

L’article Do you have a ‘salt tooth’? How to recognise it – and feed your cravings healthily est apparu en premier sur زوايا ميادين | Mayadin Columns.

Before COVID-19, my family would holiday in a welcoming village near Boston. But has America’s darkness infected it too?

To go or not to go, that is the dilemma.

For me, planning travel to the United States can be a complicated experience. Perhaps this is true for you, too.

There is a big, brash and beautiful America brimming with kind and considerate people, many of whom are the unforgettable, eccentric characters you can only find in that country.

Then there is the angry, seething and scarred America where guns, hate and extremism are everywhere – ready, on a hair-trigger, to explode into violence and mayhem.

You can encounter both aspects of the country at any time, in any place, in America. That is the risk and reward, I suppose, of going on holiday there. Hence, my quandary.

I have visited America many times – with and without my family.

I have been lucky. During each of those stays, I have enjoyed the big, brash and beautiful side of America and the kind and considerate people who largely populate it.

I like that America.

I have not been to America in three years even though it is only about 90 minutes away from Toronto by car. A lethal pandemic has made sure of that.

Now that COVID-19 has eased its grip on the world, my family and I intend to return to a special place outside of Boston where we have spent almost every summer since my two daughters were born more than 20 years ago.

My wife has asked me not to name the seaside village we visit or when we usually go. So, I won’t.

It is a sweet, sun-bronzed home to mostly sweet, sun-bronzed people who open their old, well-manicured cottages to strangers from around the world and across America with a warm handshake and a smile.

Our trips have been a soothing respite from the hurly-burly of life where we have found rest and quiet for a fortnight each year. We dip into the ocean and walk along a beach that disappears into the horizon and doubles as a toasty, healing blanket for my sun-bath-loving girls.

This magical slice of America is familiar to us. It has grown on us – deeply. And that familiarity breeds a powerful kinship and a longing to return.

Still, truth be told, part of me doesn’t want to go on our belated getaway to America this summer. Part of me would rather retreat to Prince Edward Island (PEI), a distant, beguiling piece of Canada my family has discovered over the past two summers.

PEI is a revelation. The thin, small island is blessed with golden, sweeping hills and vistas dotted with bright-coloured farmhouses that suggest a slower, more humane way of life.

There are, of course, the island’s pristine, calm beaches that stretch along the Atlantic Ocean’s sometimes jagged, clay-red coast. The water is warm and inviting, just like the mellow Maritimers who call this lovely, sanguine province home.

When, late last year, we had to decide where we would spend the most wonderful time of the year together as a family, I was torn.

I knew my younger daughter had made up her mind. As much as she liked PEI, her heart and soul were in that seaside village in Massachusetts she has visited – like her sister – since she was in diapers, but that she hadn’t seen for a few years. She missed it – dearly.

At the height of the pandemic, my wife had arranged for the shop owner of a famous candy store in the village centre to post a note in its window urging my delighted daughter to come back.

I understand the pull of a place that has been the fount of so many joyful moments that are forever fixed in my family’s history and memory.

But I worry that we are making a mistake. I worry that a village we adore that seemed – on its sun-kissed surface, at least – to have avoided the darkness that sadly defines so much of America, may have become infected by it. I worry that the place we knew no longer exists.

I worry, as well, about the threat that America can pose to the mind and body. I worry that America is a risk not worth taking.

I have talked to my wife and elder daughter about my reservations and concerns. They sympathise. They stress that chances are slim that we will be harmed. They are surprised that my usually rational self has been replaced by irrational fears.

I haven’t spoken to my younger daughter about any of this. I don’t want to disappoint or upset her. (Happily, she doesn’t read her father’s missives. She is too preoccupied with the demands of school and navigating a busy teenager’s world, bursting with friends and fun.)

In spite of the reassurances, I can’t shake this disquieting feeling.

Much of America, for all its allure and possibilities, is toxic and dangerous. The country appears broken, consumed by discord and a festering fury that shatters people and places day after disfiguring day.

No one and nowhere is safe.

The divide has deepened between enlightened America and too many other Americans, in too many parts of America, who believe that guns are more valuable than books, and who share in the seething ignorance and bigotry of the false prophets they follow religiously on TV.

This is not a new phenomenon. America has always been a dangerous and divided nation.

But that danger and division appear more acute these days, stoked as they are, by a gallery of grifters and charlatans eager to leverage America’s cleaving into viewers, votes and profit.

Beyond the constant tumult and depressing cacophony, America has become exhausting. Try as I might, I can’t avoid paying attention to the drama and convulsions that jar America one news cycle after another.

I can’t escape America. I am obliged to write about the promise and madness of America.

There is an impulse in me that wants to stay away to avoid being exposed to a nasty, ugly America. Returning to America – even for two weeks – is, in this context, a little absurd.

Then, my family reminds me that the America we know and the Americans we have met, are good and decent.

I will remember this when we pack our bags and head out to an imperfect country that, without fail or hesitation, has welcomed us.

By Andrew Mitrovica – Al Jazeera columnist

L’article My quandary: Is the US worth visiting any more? est apparu en premier sur زوايا ميادين | Mayadin Columns.

Florida’s Republican Governor Ron DeSantis has signed a bill banning most abortions after six weeks, paving the way for drastic changes in access to the procedure across the state.

Opponents argue six weeks is before many women know they are pregnant.

The law will not go into effect until a court rules on an ongoing legal challenge to the existing 15-week ban.

“We are proud to support life and family in the state of Florida,” the governor said in a statement.

He claimed the law would “defend the dignity of human life and transform Florida into a pro-family state”.

The state has been a safe haven for those seeking abortion in the country’s south-east since Roe v Wade – which gave women in the US the constitutional right to abortion – was overturned last year.

The state’s current 15-week limit on abortion is one of the most lenient in the south-east, with many travelling from other states to Florida to have the procedure.

The six-week ban makes exceptions for abortions in cases of rape or incest, as long as the woman can provide documentation such as a police report or a restraining order.

Mr DeSantis’ signed the bill late Thursday night just hours after Florida’s Republican-led House of Representatives approved the ban on Thursday, with 70 voting for and 40 voting against. It had been passed in the state Senate on 3 April.

“A woman’s right to choose, I’ve heard people talk about that,” Republican lawmaker Kiyan Michael said during the debate, as quoted by CNN. “Well, that right to choose begins before you have sex.”

In a statement shortly after Mr DeSantis signed the bill, the Florida Alliance of Planned Parenthood Affiliates said the ban’s exceptions for rape or incest would not provide “meaningful access to patients in need”.

The group argued the bill as a whole would “shut down a critical abortion access point for millions across the southeast, Caribbean, and Central and South America”.

The fate of the new six-week abortion law is still contingent upon another ruling from Florida’s Supreme Court.

Florida’s highest court is hearing a challenge brought by abortion clinics to the state’s existing 15-week ban. The latest law signed by Mr DeSantis contains language that says the six-week ban would only go into effect if Florida’s highest court upholds the 15-week law that is already in place.

Florida’s conservative Supreme Court is expected to side with anti-abortion activists and rule the 15-week ban is constitutional.

National debate over abortion in the US has been raging since a federal judge suspended the original approval of a widely used abortion drug, mifepristone, last week.

That suspension was later blocked by an appellate court, and the Biden administration has said it will ask the Supreme Court to restore full access to the drug.

By Alys Davies – BBC News

L’article Florida Governor Ron DeSantis signs six-week abortion ban into law est apparu en premier sur زوايا ميادين | Mayadin Columns.

During the holy month, legions of cooks gather at restaurants, warehouses, and street stalls to spend hours mashing the savory porridge of mutton, wheat, and spices, a beloved fixture of night markets and family iftar feasts.

ForFor much of the year, dawn breaks over sleepy lanes in Hyderabad, India, as chai and newspaper vendors rush to deliver piping hot tea alongside the news. But during Ramadan, mornings in the Old City, Secunderabad, Mallepally, Tolichowki, and other neighborhoods bring a different kind of activity. Dozens of eateries and warehouses fill with workers starting the long process of making massive amounts of haleem, an iconic savory porridge-like dish enjoyed across the Muslim world but especially beloved in Hyderabad during Ramadan, when it becomes a staple of the nightly iftar meal.

Across its many locations, the legendary Pista House, a name nearly synonymous with haleem, prepares around two tons of the dish every day during the holy month. The operation at the restaurant, and at many others, is a communal effort. Legions of cooks (including many temp workers hired just for the month) set up firewood, chop mutton, grind wheat, prep lentils, clean herbs and chiles, strain rose petals, crush cardamom, chop cinnamon bark, and ready other spices and ingredients before piling everything into bhattis, mud or brick kilns fitted with huge cauldrons. Then it’s all hands on deck, as crews of Muslims as well as non-Muslims work like well-oiled machines, using wooden mallets to rhythmically pound the mixture as it cooks for up to 12 hours. (If you thought tricep dips were hard, try pounding tons of meat into a paste, every day for a month, while fasting.)

As the sun sets, the streets transform again with a new flurry of activity. The usually traffic-packed road around the iconic Charminar monument and mosque is blocked off to allow pedestrians to explore freely. Almost simultaneously, thousands of stalls spring up, selling all things festive: shimmery bangles, little jars of attar (perfume), colorful sarees, embroidered anarkalis. Here and across the city, restaurants shift their attention to serving the food they spent all day preparing. Workers distribute Styrofoam bowls filled with haleem, topped with caramelized onions, coriander, shorba (meat consomme), slices of lemon, and other fixings.

Mohammed Sibghatullah Khan of Deccan Archive, a digital publication preserving Hyderabad’s heritage, recalls relatives across Hyderabad coming together during his childhood to prepare the feast that follows the fast. “Back then, this was the only time I got to eat haleem,” he says. The more family members who showed up to help, the more the work could be shared, with everyone taking turns to lend a hand in preparing the dish (at home, many families cook the elements of haleem separately before combining and mashing them to make the work a bit easier). Today, his family heads to Shah Ghouse, a popular choice, to fetch “buckets of haleem,” he says. “Cooking this dish has become a rare sight” in his house, Khan adds with a chuckle.

After he offers his prayers, Khan breaks the fast with his community over dates, fresh and dried fruits, and a handful of pakoras, before everyone disperses to hit the stalls, alongside diners of all backgrounds eating, shopping, and searching for the best bowl of haleem.

How did haleem come to Hyderabad?

The dish can be traced back to Arabian cookbooks from the 10th century. A predecessor called harees (also spelled jareesh) also consists of mashed meat and wheat; it came to India with Arab mercenaries, likely from Yemen, during Muslim rule in Hyderabad under the Nizams. These soldiers enjoyed harees for breakfast, when its high calories were especially useful. The barracks that housed these mercenaries eventually gave their name to the Barkas neighborhood, today home to hundreds of thousands of Arab descendants. You’ll still find harees year-round in Barkas, like at the long-standing Madina Hotel and Hadrami Harees, two restaurants that inspire long lines of customers as early as 5 a.m. and often scrape the bottom of their pots for the last harees by 10 a.m. (A sweeter version of harees is also on the menu at some eateries, though it’s not as popular.)

Unlike mild harees, which usually calls for equal parts wheat and meat, haleem calls for double the meat. Over time, locals augmented the ratio and added more seasoning. Though Hyderabad is equally famous and protective of its biryani, during Ramadan, the rice dish is quite literally on the back burner — which alone speaks volumes about the passion for haleem.

Versions of haleem and related dishes are hugely popular in Pakistan, Bangladesh, Iran, West Asian countries, and Turkey. Across India, haleem can be found in Iranian restaurants in Mumbai; eateries in Bangalore’s Fraser Town, Old Delhi, Lucknow, Chennai, Ludhiana, and Goa; in traces in relative dishes like aleesa in Kerala, harissa in Kashmir, and khichra in Gujarat; and at many family gatherings and weddings.

Over the last decade especially, meat consumption, especially beef, has been a flash point for violence by right-wing Hindus on Muslim communities (as well as on Indigenous Adivasis and Dalits) as nationalists have pressed for the widespread adoption of vegetarianism. Given the context, the scene in Hyderabad during Ramadan, with crowds of Muslims, Hindus, and other non-Muslims all enjoying haleem, is striking.

What makes Hyderabadi haleem so popular?

At its best, haleem is an amalgamation of sensations and flavors — gamey mutton, subtly aromatic rose petals, punchy spices, slick ghee, generous fixings — all delivered in a caloric, easily digestible bowl. Anas Murtuza, the food critic behind BeingHydFoodie, claims he could fast for days after one bowl of haleem — though that doesn’t stop him from constantly visiting his go-to shop, City Diamond, a favorite of residents in Mehdipatnam..

World Opinions – Eater.com

L’article During Ramadan in Hyderabad, All Roads Lead to Haleem est apparu en premier sur زوايا ميادين | Mayadin Columns.

Momina Khatun is convinced she is cursed.

She’s one of hundreds of women in the north-eastern Indian state of Assam who married under the age of 18 – and are now stuck in limbo after their husbands were arrested in a crackdown on child marriage.

The state government claims it wants to eradicate the illegal practice, but Ms Khatun and other women whose husbands are in custody say they have been left helpless.

Ms Khatun, who is expecting a baby, didn’t have an easy start in life, but marriage turned out better than she expected.

Her father remarried when she was eight. A few months later her mother abandoned her too, leaving her to live with her paternal aunt in a tiny village in the state.

“Life was difficult there. I was treated like I was a burden to her family,” Ms Khatun said. Last year, when her aunt’s family decided to get her married at the age of 17, she was delirious with fear.

“We were always told that the man we marry will determine the quality of our life. I was young and worried what would happen if my husband was a bad person.”

But Yakub Ali, the farmer she married, turned out to be a kind man who took away the “loneliness and replaced it with genuine love and affection”, Ms Khatun said.

“There wasn’t much, we were poor. At least there was peace.”

But their happiness was short-lived.

On 4 February, Mr Ali was arrested from their home and charged with marrying Ms Khatun when she was a minor.

A week on, the 22-year-old remains in custody. Ms Khatun, who is seven months pregnant, has not been able to meet her husband since his arrest.

“Where do I go? I have no one. My child and I will die hungry and lonely,” she said.

Ms Khatun and hundreds of other women in Assam have been protesting after their male relatives were arrested in connection with cases of child marriage.

More than 8,100 people have been named in police complaints so far, including the parents of grooms and priests who performed the marriage ceremonies. It was not immediately clear how the police arrived at the figures – the BBC has contacted officials for comment – but at least 2,500 people have been arrested since last week.

Women like Ms Khatun see the action as a “cruel interference in their lives”.

Mostly uneducated and poor, they say the arrested men are primary breadwinners for their families and that they depend on them to survive. Videos of women, wailing outside police stations and rolling on the ground, have cascaded over social media, fuelling feelings of anger and outrage.

Those like Mr Ali, who are accused of marrying girls aged 14-18, are being charged under a law that bans child marriage and carries a sentence of two years and a fine.

Men accused of marrying girls below 14 have been charged under a more stringent law that protects children from sexual offences, a non-bailable felony carrying jail terms ranging from seven years to life.

Reports say that districts with higher Muslim populations in Assam have seen more arrests than others, though hundreds of Hindu men have also been arrested.

Under Muslim personal law in India, girls can get married once they reach puberty. The conflict between this and India’s Prohibition of Child Marriage Act, which bars all marriages of women below the age of 18, is being challenged in the Supreme Court.”There is a line of precedent that special laws will override general personal laws of any religion,” according to Dr Arghya Sengupta, research director of Vidhi Legal, a think-thank.

But he added that “the unjustness of the situation” also needs to be factored in. “The personal law of Muslims has allowed girls who have attained puberty to marry of their own free will for decades. So to suddenly throw their husbands in jail for a practice which, in their eyes, was never wrong may be unjust.”

Assam Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma maintains that his government is at “war” against child marriage and isn’t targeting any one community. But critics say the retrospective arrests are the latest attempt of the state’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) government to marginalise minorities, especially Bengali-speaking Muslims.

The community, which migrated from what was once East Pakistan and is now Bangladesh, has long faced discrimination in the multi-ethnic state, where linguistic identity and citizenship are the biggest political fault lines.

The Hindu-nationalist BJP government, which is also in power nationally, has announced a slew of policies, including a controversial citizenship law, that critics say discriminates particularly against Bengali-speaking Muslims.

Experts say the arrests could push illegal marriages underground, making them harder to report.

“Child marriages are more a social malaise than a religious one, and are rooted in poverty and patriarchy,” says Dr Abdul Azad, lecturer and researcher at Vrije University, Amsterdam.

“It is only through social and economic upliftment of communities that the practice can be truly eradicated – not by explicitly targeting a single community.”

Although illegal, child marriage is widespread in many parts of India mainly due to patriarchal customs, lack of education and poverty.

Very few cases are actually reported. In Assam, only 155 cases of child marriage were registered in 2021, and 138 in 2020, according to the National Crime Records Bureau.

The latest crackdown started on 23 January, when Mr Sarma expressed alarm over the soaring underage pregnancy rate in Assam and promised to put an end to the problem.

The sudden nature of the move has shattered many families.

Khalidul Rashid, a resident of Dhubri district in Assam, breaks down before he even begins speaking.

He says his 23-year-old daughter Kulsoom Khan took her own life on 4 February. The eldest of four, Kulsoom was married off when she was 14. In 2020, when her husband died of Covid-19, she moved back to her parent’s home with her two children.

Everything was fine in her life, her father says, but when she heard last week about the arrests, she became vey tense.

On Friday, she asked her father for her marriage certificate. “I told her that her husband was dead and she had nothing to worry about,” Mr Rashid says.

But Kulsoom was afraid the police would arrest her parents.

“So she took her life – to protect us,” Mr Rashid says.

Dr Kalam says that while most of the child marriages in Assam occur among the marginalised communities, a powerful social movement against the practice has taken shape in recent years.

Now the government’s “aggressive approach”, he says, will weaken this movement.

“Our society has become so divided that such brutal actions are gaining support,” Dr Kalam says.

Masud Zaman, a lawyer based in Dhubri district who is fighting on behalf of eight women protesters, agrees with the assessment.

A Muslim-dominated area, Dhubri has recorded the highest number of arrests.

“The common perception is that child marriage is a problem of Muslim society. But child marriage rates are high in Dhubri because it’s one of the poorest districts of Assam, where most families are illiterate. Not because Muslims live here,” Mr Zaman says.

He accused the government of turning a social issue into a communal one, at the expense of women’s lives.

While both Hindu and Muslim men have been rounded up in the recent arrests, the lawyer alleges there has been selective treatment in the way bail is being given.

“In Majuli – which is predominantly home to tribal communities – 24 men got bail within a day. We argued on behalf of [Muslim] men accused of the same offences on the same grounds, but couldn’t get bail.”

The BBC saw a copy of one of the bail orders passed by a district court in Majuli, which states the arrests had been made on “vague and insufficient grounds”.

Mr Zaman added that it was insensitive to think money – the government has announced financial compensation for the affected women – could alleviate their grief.

“What about the emotional bond between a wife and her husband? How will the government compensate women for that?”

It’s a question that haunts Ms Khatun.

“Does suffering ever end in a woman’s life?” she says.

World Opinions – BBC News

L’article Assam: India child brides desperate after mass arrests est apparu en premier sur زوايا ميادين | Mayadin Columns.