Trigger warning: Mentions of death, killing, violence
In the past, women couldn’t enter crematoriums to pay respects, but now they manage them, and Chennai-based Esther Shanthi (45) is a prime example.
Since 2014, she has been running the Otteri burial ground and crematorium in Chennai, an area notorious for its criminal activity. Here’s how she transformed the place and its people.
Shanthi was working with an NGO called the Indian Community Welfare Organisation (ICWO), when she was asked to manage a crematorium in Velangadu.
Always open to challenges, she accepted the assignment, “I’ve never limited myself. Just because I’m a woman, doesn’t mean I can’t handle this work,” she says.
After five years of managing this crematorium, her boss came to her with a tougher and bigger assignment — to manage the crematorium and burial ground at Otteri, a very critical area.
“It’s difficult for anyone to work there [at Otteri], be it a man or woman. I just went to visit the ground with my boss. It was not maintained well, and was a hub for alcohol, drugs and criminals,” she recalls.
The first two years working in the Otteri crematorium were challenging for Shanthi. She says the crematorium was crowded with local goons and thugs who harassed her and threatened her with knives.
Youngsters would spend the whole day there, smoking marijuana, drinking, and causing chaos. Meanwhile, local thugs would engage in gambling.
“It was a very uncomfortable situation. They would threaten me by killing goats in front of me, saying ‘You’re next’. I would cry every day,” adds Shanthi.
Despite the risks of working in such a dangerous area, Shanthi rarely considered quitting. Instead, she focused on finding ways to improve the situation.
She tied up with the local police and installed CCTV cameras across the crematorium.
“These boys were hardly in Class 10. I started counselling them. I reminded them of the sacrifices their parents are making to raise them. Thanks to my work with ICWO, I knew how to handle different people. After a lot of effort, I started seeing changes,” she smiles.
“I was done crying and struggling. People had started dominating me. I realised that I couldn’t allow that. I am in charge of this space and I treat it like a temple. Today, with my one look, these men put their knives down,” she adds.
As the sole breadwinner of her family with a salary of Rs 15,000 per month, Shanthi hopes people stop looking down on her work. She says, “It’s one of the purest jobs in the world.”
She has won several awards for her work and managed more than 300 bodies when COVID struck.