For Dr Vinayak Salunke, flashlights worth less than $10 each are one of the most valuable assets at the Vihamandra health centre in Aurangabad in India's western state of Maharashtra.
With the clinic serving a population of 48,000, Salunke must prepare for up to six hours of power cuts daily, rather like a surgeon scrubbing up for surgery.
"We don't have power back-up, so the torch batteries are vital. We check them every day," he said. "We also monitor the temperature of our refrigerator constantly to make sure vaccines and drugs are safe. It's become a way of life now."
The health centre is one of tens of thousands in India with little or no power supply that are now looking for alternative ways to stay functional.
Across several states in India, government health centres are gradually turning to solar energy for a reliable power supply to store their vaccines, operate infant warmers, sterilise equipment and cut the time spent caring for patients.
Up to now, solar has been deployed at such facilities mostly on a small scale, not as the main source of electricity.
To change that, a pilot project launching this month in Tamil Nadu, Maharashtra and Haryana states aims to set up replicable, cost-effective solar power plants at health centres - the first point of access to a doctor for rural residents - and evaluate their impact on healthcare delivery.
The Indian Council of Medical Research and the Council on Energy, Environment and Water (CEEW), a non-profit research institute, are collaborating to light up three centres and meet their essential operational requirements.
"The aim... is to create resilient health systems in rural India, benefiting primarily women and children," said Soumya Swaminathan, director-general of the medical research council.
"Illnesses do not come based on the time electricity is available. Any time a patient comes, electricity should be available to enable quality health services."
Nearly 35 million people in rural India relied on un-electrified primary health centres as of 2015, according to government data.
One in every two primary health centres has no electricity or suffers from power outages, Swaminathan said.
A 2016 CEEW report states that only a fifth of primary health centres meet Indian public health standards, which includes having functional infrastructure for electricity.
THE LAST MILE
Centres that are connected to the grid battle with an erratic, poor-quality power supply that puts at risk baby deliveries, paediatric emergencies and cold storage of vaccines, campaigners say.
Electricity access is also needed for clean water supplies, communication services, mobile health applications and retention of skilled staff, they add.
"We came across instances where long power cuts forced doctors to rush vaccines to another health centre 20-odd kilometres away, only to discover that there was no electricity there either," said Aditya Ramji of the CEEW, which is collaborating with the government on the pilot project.
"No power is making the last-mile delivery of health care extremely difficult," he added.
In many cases, diesel generators have become a lifeline for primary health centres, their constant hum the only assurance of sustained electricity to doctors and patients.
BETTER CARE
At the Sholurmattam primary health centre in the hills of Kotagiri in the southern state of Tamil Nadu, Dr Sethu Raman has spent the last two weeks trying to get a generator fixed.
Catering to a population of more than 18,000, the centre has had to fall back on emergency torch lights to make sure babies are delivered and vaccines are safe, all the while trying to get its power restored.
"The complaints have been made, but nobody has found the time yet to trek up to the hills and fix the problem," Raman said. "I'm even willing to spend my own money to get it running because without electricity, the care I provide will never be optimum."
Many states, including Chhattisgarh and Tripura, have already set up small-scale solar systems for their health centres, each with different specifications and at a high cost.
But in most cases, the solar power is used only to run fans and a few light bulbs, as well as keeping cold storage operational, campaigners say, pointing to a lack of monitoring and no clear strategy to scale up efforts.
"This project will see the potential of looking at solar as the primary source of electricity, and not necessarily only as a back-up," Swaminathan said.
"The ultimate objective is to be able to power all critical services through solar in the event of a grid failure."
To make sure the new approach can work across the health system, it is being tested at centres with varying needs, from basic treatment to minor surgery, Ramji said.
"It will help us test the reliability of the solar plants we are developing, facilitate more centres to operate 24/7, and reduce the time taken to care for each patient," he said.
Healthcare professionals from India, Africa and other Asian countries account for 23 per cent of HSE nurses and midwives, according to the Irish public health service provider. (Representational image: iStock)
IRELAND'S Health Service Executive and the largest nurses’ union have spoken out against the “racist abuse and assaults” targeting members of the Indian community and cautioned that their exodus would have a “dramatic impact" on the healthcare sector.
In a statement on Wednesday (13), the Health Service Executive (HSE) said the effective operation of many essential health services in Ireland would be “seriously threatened” without the support of the thousands of international staff employed in the country’s hospitals and community services.
Healthcare professionals from India, Africa and other Asian countries account for 23 per cent of HSE nurses and midwives, according to the Irish public health service provider.
“The HSE unequivocally condemns all incidents of racist abuse and assaults of people from abroad, their families and the wider community. It is unacceptable. People should not be afraid to leave their house or go to work for fear of abuse,” said Anne Marie Hoey, chief people officer of the HSE.
“We are proud of our organisation’s diversity and are dependent on all our staff for the delivery of frontline, essential services… We are deeply grateful to international workers who have chosen to move their lives and families to Ireland to work with the HSE and help provide essential care and support for patients,” she said.
Hoey said the HSE was “saddened” to hear reports that some international staff, now fearful for their personal safety, are considering moving away.
“This will have a dramatic impact on staff levels and the provision of health services and should be a cause for alarm for people in this country,” she said.
The intervention came after a spate of violent assaults on Indians in the capital Dublin and other regions were reported to the Irish police force, An Garda Síochána.
Last week, the Irish Nurses and Midwives Organisation (INMO) condemned the “racially motivated abuse” of its workers and called for robust action against the perpetrators.
The Indian Embassy in Dublin earlier this month issued a safety warning after "an increase in instances of physical attacks reported against Indian citizens in Ireland recently".
Indians "are advised to take reasonable precautions for their personal security and avoid deserted areas, especially in odd hours", the embassy said in a statement.
The Irish embassy in New Delhi said it "condemns" the attacks and said it was in contact with police regarding investigations.
Local media reported that a six-year-old girl of Indian origin was assaulted and called racial slurs earlier this month in southeast Ireland.
The Irish Times also reported that an Indian taxi driver was attacked with a broken bottle by two passengers in Dublin and told to "go back to your country".
There are around 80,000 people of Indian descent in Ireland, according to various estimates – around one per cent of Ireland's population.
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Urvashi Pathania reveals how a childhood bleaching memory shaped her haunting short Skin on colourism
Skin confronts colourism through horror, transforming memory into a grotesque clinic where melanin is harvested as a commodity.
Urvashi Pathania recalls her earliest memory of being bleached at nine after relatives said her dark skin would affect marriage prospects.
The film frames colourism as an “economic horror,” linking beauty standards to exploitation and resource plunder.
Skin was workshopped at the prestigious Sundance Labs and is being developed into a feature-length project.
Pathania believes horror is the most visceral way to capture inherited prejudice and social cruelty.
Full interview and the complete video are available on the Eastern Eye YouTube channel.
When filmmaker Urvashi Pathania talks about her short film Skin, her words carry the same sharpness and intimacy as the story itself. The short film leaves audiences equally unsettled and haunted. It’s not merely genre horror but a brave examination of colourism, where a personal wound becomes a grotesque clinic that harvests melanin as a commodity. In this Eastern Eye exclusive, Pathania discusses the origins and inspirations behind her film.
Filmmaker Urvashi Pathania opens up about the childhood memory that inspired her acclaimed short film Skin Getty Images
The film’s most harrowing image; of a woman submerged in a fluorescent tank as her skin dissolves, comes from a real childhood memory. “I was nine when one of my mum’s friends said, ‘Cute kid, but you need to do something about her dark skin if you ever want her to get married,’” Pathania remembers. Her mother, who was fair-skinned, listened. “She put a homemade bleaching paste on me,” Pathania says, “and I remember screaming in the bathtub.” That early sense of being trapped, of a body altered without consent, became the ghost at Skin’s core.
Pathania intentionally opens the film not with the clinic but with two sisters squabbling in a car. Ria, a dark-skinned influencer and a vocal champion of skin positivity, is the viewer’s entry point: incredulous, furious, and protective when Kanika announces she will bleach her skin. “Ria is the voice of the audience,” Pathania explains. “We enter through her disbelief and the love that’s tangled up in it.”
The clinic’s fluorescent hell, Markandeya, reveals the scale of the horror: an assembly line where dark-skinned women are drained and their melanin routed into glowing vats for wealthier, fairer clients. Pathania deliberately frames this as economic horror. “I wanted it to feel bigger than skin bleaching,” she says. “It’s about harvesting, of resources, of culture, of beauty rituals. Whether it’s the brown earth being plundered or the bodies of women of colour being commodified, the cost is always disproportionately ours.”
That cost is encoded in the film’s visual language. Pathania and her longtime cinematographer Catherine crafted a lighting palette that is as much metaphor as aesthetic. “Horror films usually hide terror in darkness. But here, the whitest moment is the most terrifying,” Pathania notes. Fair clients bask in amber-lit pools, their skin steeped in stolen warmth, while women of colour are exposed under cold, fluorescent tones that reveal the rawness of their natural skin. “It was the only way to show the truth of what Kanika loses,” Pathania says, referencing the film’s climax where her skin tone literally changes.
For Pathania, horror is a natural language to speak about inheritance, not genes, but the ideas passed down inside families and communities. Kanika’s desire to resemble her fair-skinned mother is a devastating detail because it links colourism to maternal love and social survival. “We like to blame our parents,” Pathania says, “but we carry it too. These cycles don’t just live in the past. They’re active.” The film, in fact, maps how affection and aspiration can become vectors for harm.
The film’s cruelest twist lands in its climax. Ria, the sister who loves her melanin, tries to rescue Kanika and becomes trapped instead, drained for the supposed benefit of others. “One person might individually gain—lighter skin, different treatment—but society pays,” Pathania says. “Every time a new standard is set, it hurts women as a whole.” The swap is designed to be both literal and moral: the personal gain of assimilation carries a social cost.
Juniper, the clinic director, weaponises empathy—polite, warm, a girlboss peddling empowerment as she harvests. “She’s complicit and trapped,” Pathania says. “In the feature version, you see the strings go even higher.”
Perhaps the most haunting image comes in the film’s closing: older women, waiting to bathe in stolen melanin, unaware of the violence behind their “fountain of youth.” Pathania denies them villainy and implicates us all. “They don’t know the cost,” she says. “They hear about a fountain of youth and want it. That desire is universal. The tragedy is that the system allowing it is invisible to them.”
Asked to name a single scene that sums up Skin, Pathania points to a quiet, devastating parallel: Ria struggling with foundation that’s too light while Kanika undergoes the bleaching ritual. “It’s the same violence in different forms,” she says. “One is subtle, one is grotesque. But both come from being told you’re not enough.”
Skin may be short, but it is not small. It exists as proof of a larger project. Pathania workshopped a feature script for Skin at the Sundance Labs, and the short reads like a hard, lucid preview of that longer story. She’s also writing other genre pieces, including a ghost story about housing injustice in Manhattan, because for Pathania, horror remains the most honest language for telling political stories that live in the body.
Skin lingers because it refuses easy catharsis. There’s no victory, only the echo of Ria’s screams in the tank. Pathania’s craft is in how she shows colourism doesn’t merely humiliate; it becomes a literal marketplace. “You can walk out of the clinic lighter,” she says. “But someone else pays the price.”
Rapper Sean Kingston sentenced to three and a half years in US federal prison.
Fraud scheme, run with his mother, involved luxury goods worth more than £740,000.
Items included designer watches, furniture, a 232-inch LED TV and a bulletproof Cadillac Escalade.
Kingston apologised in court; his mother was jailed for five years in July.
Text messages showed the pair discussing fake payment receipts.
Conviction and sentencing
Rapper Sean Kingston has been sentenced to three and a half years in a US federal prison for his role in a fraud scheme worth over £740,000.
The Jamaican-American singer, whose real name is Kisean Anderson, was convicted earlier this year alongside his mother, Janice Turner, of wire fraud. Prosecutors said they exploited Kingston’s celebrity status to obtain luxury items without paying for them.
How the scheme worked
According to prosecutors, Kingston contacted victims via social media, claiming he wished to buy high-end products. He then invited them to his homes in South Florida, promising to promote their goods on his platforms or introduce them to other celebrities.
When payments were due, Kingston or his mother sent fraudulent wire transfer receipts. While some victims later received compensation after legal intervention or lawsuits, most were left out of pocket.
Evidence at trial
Prosecutors said the scheme netted more than £740,000 in goods, including luxury watches, furniture, a 232-inch LED television and a bulletproof Cadillac Escalade.
Text messages shown in court revealed Kingston instructing his mother: “I told you to make [a] fake receipt.”
Apology and defence
Before sentencing, Kingston apologised to the court and said he had learned from his actions. He will begin serving his sentence immediately.
His mother, Janice Turner, was jailed for five years in July.
Defence lawyer Zeljka Bozanic described Kingston as “a soft guy who grew up poor when he rose to fame overnight”, arguing he still had the mentality of a teenager and struggled to manage his finances.
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Ricky Jones attends an anti-racism protest in Walthamstow, London. (Photo: Reuters)
A COUNCILLOR was on Friday (15) acquitted of encouraging violent disorder for saying far-right activists should have their throats cut amid riots last year, drawing claims from right-wing politicians of a hypocritical "two-tier" justice system.
Ricky Jones made the comments at a counter-protest in London after three girls were murdered in Southport last summer and he was suspended by the Labour party.
Jones, 58, was cleared by a jury following a trial at Snaresbrook Crown Court. He had made the remarks to a crowd gathered near an immigration advice centre in London after reports that far-right supporters were planning a protest.
"They are disgusting Nazi fascists ... We need to cut all their throats and get rid of them all," he said, running a finger across his throat.
Jones gave evidence that he did not intend his words to be taken literally and said his comments referred to far-right stickers with hidden razor blades found on a train.
Right-wing politicians and activists said his case was an example of how Britain had an unfair police and justice system, with those who voice concerns about immigration treated differently to those who support liberal or left-wing causes.
They contrasted Jones' treatment with that of Lucy Connolly, the wife of a Conservative councillor who was jailed for 31 months for inciting racial hatred for a post urging mass deportation of migrants and the burning of their hotels.
Unlike Jones, she had pleaded guilty to the offence.
Misinformation on social media last year said the teenager who committed the Southport murders was an Islamist migrant, fuelling days of violent riots including attacks on mosques and hotels housing asylum seekers.
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Onlookers gather near a destroyed bridge after flash floods on the outskirts of Muzaffarabad, the capital of Pakistan-administered Kashmir, on August 15, 2025. (Photo: Getty Images)
HEAVY monsoon rains triggered landslides and flash floods across northern Pakistan, leaving at least 169 people dead in the last 24 hours, national and local officials said on Friday (15).
The majority of the deaths, 150, were recorded in mountainous Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province, according to the National Disaster Management Authority.
Nine more people were killed in Pakistan Kashmir, while five died in the northern Gilgit-Baltistan region, it said.
The majority of those killed have died in flash floods and collapsing houses.
Five others, including two pilots, were killed when a Khyber Pakhtunkhwa government helicopter crashed due to bad weather during a mission to deliver relief goods, the chief minister of the province, Ali Amin Gandapur, said.
The provincial government has declared the severely affected mountainous districts of Buner, Bajaur, Mansehra and Battagram as disaster-hit areas.
In Bajaur, a tribal district abutting Afghanistan, a crowd amassed around an excavator trawling a mud-soaked hill, AFP photos showed.
Funeral prayers began in a paddock nearby, with people grieving in front of several bodies covered by blankets.
The meteorological department has issued a heavy rain alert for the northwest, urging people to avoid "unnecessary exposure to vulnerable areas".
In Indian Kashmir, rescuers pulled bodies from mud and rubble on Friday after a flood crashed through a Himalayan village, killing at least 60 people and washing away dozens more.
Scientists said climate change has made weather events around the world more extreme and more frequent.
Pakistan is one of the world's most vulnerable countries to the effects of climate change, and its population is contending with extreme weather events with increasing frequency.
The torrential rains that have pounded Pakistan since the start of the summer monsoon, described as "unusual" by authorities, have killed more than 320 people, nearly half of them children.
In July, Punjab, home to nearly half of Pakistan's 255 million people, recorded 73 per cent more rainfall than the previous year and more deaths than in the entire previous monsoon.