Untouchable? A transcript – Part II

This transcript was made available by Lifeonline – a website initiative providing audiences around the world with information about the impact of globalization on poverty and social development. Excerpts from this transcript and links to a clip from the documentary are available here. Read the full transcript here. Read the first part here.

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VEERASAMY (translation): It is our destiny to wash these things. That’s why we have to do this work. We wash linen by hand and return it. Even linen used in childbirth and during abortions.

COMM: At the washerman’s the pre-washing is now finished and the family can eat the leftovers which Dhasam has collected in a pot in the village and brought down to the river.

VEERASAMY (translation): My wife also comes from a washerman’s family. They do the same work as we do. So we don’t have family problems. If she was from another caste and if she disagreed with me she might regret that she ever married me. But she doesn’t belong to another caste so there is no problem.

COMM: The laundry has been steamed for one hour and the family is ready for the big washing programme of the afternoon.

ASSAM translation): I go to work because my family is poor. Other children are not poor and their parents aren’t sick but I have to work.

MANI (Mill owner) (Translation): If the boys fall ill their parents ask me to lend them 500 rupees. We also pay an advance of two to five thousand rupees before they start working. If they have problems we help them.

COMM: It is Assam’s personal responsibility to repay the family’s debt to the owner of the looms.

ASSAM (translation): We were paid 4000 rupees in advance and they take away 200 every month.

COMM: 200 rupees are five dollars (US).

QUESTION: Do you get any more than that?

ASSAM ( translation) No only 200. Yes 200 only.

Mr KUMAR (translation): We can’t ever pay back our debts because when we borrow 300 he writes down 400. Maybe we will have to be here for the rest of our lives.

QUESTION: So you’ll have to remain in slavery?

MR KUMAR (translation): Yes.

COMM: Their children are the stonemasons’ only hope of breaking their chains. With help from a local organization the children are able to attend school for a couple of hours every weekday. By learning to read, write and do arithmetic they will be able to take their first steps towards changing their destiny. It’s a long and difficult road ahead – one made harder by the repressive reaction of the authorities whenever the outcasts attempt to protest.

PRABAKARAN (translation): In former times the outcasts didn’t come here. But today 75% of those who do the cleaning here are outcasts. They also move the statues around.

QUESTION: But they work here?

PRABAKARAN (translation): In former times when we were on our way to the temple the outcasts would step aside for us and take off their scarves and shoes in order to pay their respect. But now they stick close to us. They have changed. We used to put things out for them outside which they would come and pick up. But now they simply stretch out their hands and want us to put things directly into their hands because they say they are cleaner than we are. They wash themselves twice a day.

QUESTION: What do you think of that?

PRABAKARAN (translation) I don’t want to comment on that. It’s very difficult. I don’t speak to them and I don’t give them anything.

QUESTION: Of that which you’ve been sacrificing?

PRABAKARAN (translation): When they enter I go out.

VEERASAMY (translation): I don’t want my children to grow up and have these kind of problems – this kind of work. They should learn as much as possible. If only somebody would help us give them an education then we would support them. But with this work it is impossible for us. We wish to give them a good education. We don’t want them to end up in this job. If only they could study they would do something other than this. This work ends with me. I don’t want them to do this.

COMM: Kumar and the other stonemason families have the afternoon off. They cannot work because of the nearby blastings in the quarry.

However not all Dalits are prepared to go on being treated as social and cultural outcasts in India. In the summer of 1999 thousands of Dalit labourers from tea plantations in the state of Tamil Nadu mounted a demonstration for higher wages. As in previous cases the authorities’ reaction was to clamp down. These pictures from the film “Death of the River” showing the labourers demonstration were screened 3 months later in a small cinema in Madras. The film was subsequently seized by the police and the owner of the cinema was arrested under Indian Censorship laws governing commercial feature films. Police brutality cost 18 lives.

MR KUMAR (translation): We are 19 families here and we stick together. We have no problems or disagreements. Some of us are related but we are like one big happy family. We listen to each other, we also respect what the children say. We live in harmony with one another and respect each other. We don’t argue. Our extended family doesn’t work like that.

ASSAM (translation): If I worked faster I could make one month’s pay in 25 days. If I did I could provide for my family. If I was paid 1500 rupees I could pay the bills and the hospital bill and still save money for my own weaving mill and find a house and make it fitted for weaving activities. There should be room for it. We could start out with one loom, later we could buy another one, then three, then four and so forth.

VEERASAMY (translation): In terms of rights a washerman stands alone. There is only one washerman in each village. If somebody supported me we could fight for our rights. But there is only me. I am left in the lurch. If you want to achieve something you have to be either rich or be in a group of many people. I am neither.

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Jayanthi’s Story

First published on the Irenees website
Coimbatore, July 2007

“My name is Jayanthi and I contested the Local body election from the reserved constituency of Thandakaran Palayam Panchayat, Avinashi Taluk, Coimbatore District of the State of Tamilnadu in South India.

In my constituency only women were allowed to contest. The other five contestants were also women and they do not know anything about the Panchayati Raj system or the election process. By fielding them the intention was that we should not win but be defeated. They feared that if we won, other party people would join us. But after the election there was no problem. All was over with the election.

I have been in the Self Help Group for the past five years. Now it is my sixth year. Although I was in the Self Help Group even during the time of the previous election I could not contest because it was a general constituency during that time. Only a male candidate contested, but could not win.
The reason for not contesting in the previous election and for contesting in the recent election is to be seen in the point of view of my skills and capacities. I have undergone many training programmes conducted by some NGOs on the Panchayati Raj Institution. While I was undergoing the training, I began to think about contesting the election so that I could do something tangible for the people. Mustering up a lot of courage I contested.

After I won the election as President and took over the office, we had some problem in selecting the Vice-President as it happens everywhere. He belonged to the dominant community. The matter was that if an uneducated person becomes the President, the Vice-President would assume all powers in his hands. He would be invariably from the dominant community. Often he would manipulate and assume all powers including the power to sign cheques. The President would be unable to exercise his power and cannot question him. He or she would have to simply sign the cheques and sit quietly. In such situations the Vice-President would be de facto President and the President would be reduced to the stature of a Vice-President. That’s why there is problem in electing the Vice-President every time. However our Vice-President follows our advice. Krishnasamy by name, he belongs to the Bayal Community. We take administrative decisions in a committee consisting of nine ward members.

Among the nine members five are Dalits and four are non-Dalits. One of the members becomes the Vice-President. The four ward members (non-Dalits) did not support the candidate we proposed as Vice-President. The Dalit representation was six including me. The Vice-President is chosen by election. All the ward members exercise their voting rights in electing the Vice-President. The President can support any one. When the President supports a candidate, problems can arise.

People invite me to public functions at the school. With regard to family functions such as boring the ears, marriages etc., even though they invite me they would look at me only as an untouchable. Even today it is the practice. I don’t go for such functions because I feel discriminated. When it comes to other public functions, they don’t show their feelings of discrimination so blatantly. They had invited me to the School Annual Day. They could not do any mischief there. They have even invited me to family functions as well. If the function is held at their homes, they show their feelings. When it is held outside in a hall, they don’t show their feelings openly. They consider that I am polluting only inside their house. If it is a Marriage Hall, they treat me well. They give respect to me as the President and freely talk with me. The basic factor is that our caste people work in their fields. So they would view us only that way.

I have an unforgettable experience that I want to share with you. It is regarding the allotment for ten Group Houses. We started constructing the houses according to the BPL list. The construction was done with good amount of cement and it has come up to concrete roofing. Somebody whom we do not know for sure-whether Scheduled Caste or Backward Caste – sent a petition under the name ‘public’ to the Chief Minister alleging that the President and Vice-President of not constructing good houses. “They are using mud only and so the CM should take proper action” was their contention.

The BDO came from the Collectorate. He called me and said: “President, a petition has come. So many such things usually come. In your case this is the only one. Don’t be scared. Those who are not in your favour will do a lot more like this. You don’t worry”. When I told him that we involved the engineer and did everything properly, he said, “Don’t care. You do your work.”

My husband helps me in taking the motor for repairing. You see when the motor in a pump set is out of order; I cannot carry it for repairing. I know it is not my job. But if I entrust that work with someone he may charge some commission for his work. Then the expenditure will go beyond the income. Even if I do not carry it myself, I have to go. Don’t I?

After becoming the President of the Panchayat a great change has occurred within me. My personal capacities like communication and leadership skills have developed to a great extent. In the past, I was involved in educating the people about exercising their voting rights. Now I have come to realize what power I have. I have to think about what to present before the Collector when I meet him. This election has taught me to think about how to relate to others and to a councilor.
I have already got training in preparing reports and book keeping while I was in the Self-Help Group. I don’t need any other training. Our clerk is now under suspension. So I take care of his duties also. During the last term, accounts for Rs.1, 28,000 have not been shown. The former President had transferred that amount to the clerk’s account and he had spent it for some other purpose without paying the electricity bills. Even for that expenditure proper bills have not been submitted. Now that the clerk has been suspended, I am looking after the accounts.”

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In response to the brutal attack on Thalaiyuthu Panchayat President Krishnaveni, this is the fifth of a series of posts relating to attempts on the lives of dalit panchayat presidents. This attack has hospitalised an award-winning and popular elected leader and underlines the threat that caste poses to democracy. A statement on the attack issued by the Arunthathiyar Human Rights Federation has been reproduced here. A poem about the incident by SRaj is here. There is also an interview with Panchayat President Krishnaveni about the incident and a fact-finding report on discrimination faced by Dalit Panchayat Presidents.

On Caste Privilege

- Namit Arora

Excerpts from this post on Shunya.net

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Walk into a relatively nice neighborhood in, say, Ahmedabad, Pune, or Jaipur, perhaps one of the burgeoning gated communities of flats owned by professionals, public sector officials, and businessmen. This demographic will usually speak English, represent under 10% of the population but command far greater power. Notice that nearly all mailboxes have upper-caste names. The average man here might profess to be modern and secular, but don’t be fooled. His is an incipient modernity, without deep roots—more about clothes, gadgets, nuclear family, educating girls, and fewer food taboos. His idea of the individual, each with an equal human dignity, is terribly weak. Nor does he subscribe to the dignity of labor. Indeed, he would recoil at the idea of inviting his sweeper to sit on his sofa to have a chai and samosa as a fellow human. Worse, he would never have wondered why none among his servants, maids, and sweepers share his last name, or what role his caste played in getting him where he is today. What prevents such ideas from crossing his mind is a deeply internalized hierarchy—and therefore entitlement—evident in the way he makes demands on those in his employ, and the deference he expects from them and their kind.

In this social class, middle-aged members might casually observe, ‘I saw no casteism while growing up.’ Of course, it’s harder to see such things from above, analogous to the legions of men who internalize their sexism so well they don’t notice it at all. This is the class that is prone to reminisce the ‘unity’ and ‘harmony’ of the olden days. Now it feels cheated by reservations. Not surprisingly, a good many have come to champion the ‘merit-only’ line (that is, only test scores should be considered) and profess to be ‘caste-blind’. The ‘caste-blind’ stance, which perpetuates caste privilege, has wide currency with those who somehow see it as totally fair and impartial.

Explain the premise of positive discrimination and see eyes roll. ‘We don’t treat them badly anymore,’ one aunty told me, ‘what are they agitating about?’ Mention the benefits of diversity and question narrow ideas of ‘merit’, only to see hateful fear mongering spew out. ‘Oye, what if a scheddu civil engineer built a bridge that collapsed?’ (‘Scheddu’ is a derogatory reduction of Scheduled Caste, the administrative term for Dalits, formerly ‘untouchables’.) ‘What if a scheddu doctor killed a patient?’ The instinct is to associate low-caste with congenital stupidity. It doesn’t occur to them that the beneficiaries of reservation have to pass the same coursework and training as all others. Besides, they have no empirical data on how many fallen bridges were built by scheddus, nor do they know that Dalit children routinely die due to discriminatory practices by ‘merit’ doctors.[3] What, if not prejudice, makes them assume that scheddus build bridges that fall, rather than corrupt upper-caste engineers who steal public funds and use inferior materials? Nor do they hesitate in sending their own under-performing kids to shady engineering and medical institutes that have proliferated—the so-called ‘capitation fee’ colleges—where the sole criteria for admission is money, not ‘merit’, including obscure colleges in the former Soviet block countries cashing-in on the obsession this class has for ‘foreign degrees’.

Awed by the pop culture that trickles down from the West, this class knows little about the rest of India, nor has anything but disdain for its tribal and folk music, dance, and drama.[4] Of much greater concern is India’s image in the West, the health of the IT sector, new consumer goods, the peril from Pakistan, emulating China. Utterly materialistic in its values, it equates education with technical training, success with money, and sneers at the arts, social sciences, and the humanities. Its nationalistic pride is now yoked to its pride in Hinduism. Members of this class may feel irked by Dalits decamping to Buddhism, Christianity, and Islam, but they know ‘the problem’ Dalits have: their problem is one of underdevelopment, to be fixed by more aggressive ‘inclusive development’. Pieties and slogans aside, the members of this class make absolutely no demands on themselves. They never look at the mirror and see that they are squarely at the heart of ‘the problem’.

 

§

At a recent dinner party, a Brahmin friend, a graduate of the elite IIT system, criticized reservations on the grounds that they are socially divisive and instigate disharmony. I had to laugh. Isn’t the caste system all about social division, using graded notions of superior and inferior blood? Caste identities have been strong for ages; even today over 90% marry their own. If caste now also shapes political consciousness, it’s because, in part, its members share the experience of discrimination and inherited disadvantage. If the decibels have gone up, it’s because the lower-castes no longer tolerate the oppressive ‘harmony’ of the past. They want a piece of the pie, and they are seeking it via the ballot box. In another country, with the kind of inequities India has, the masses might have resorted to violent revolution long ago.

Why pursue reservations, he argued, when urbanization and industrial development are doing far better at defeating the inequities of caste. This is true up to a point, and a myth beyond. It is true that cities offer greater anonymity and a diversity of jobs unrelated to traditional caste occupations, thereby weakening many, perhaps even the worst, forms of rural casteism. An office-going Brahmin is unlikely to worry about being polluted if he brushes against a Dalit in a crowded bus, or object to eating out lest a Dalit prepared the meal. But even as many old caste abuses have vanished or weakened in the face of urbanization, others have arisen or evolved into malignant forms. Industrialization is a turbulent force working upon the caste system, but it is not in itself a socially progressive force. Introduced in a society with entrenched inequities, capital and industry build on preexisting social privileges and discrimination, as in India.[5]

As many historians of caste have noted, caste in the urban milieu has morphed to behave more like an ethnic community, whose members not only harbor notions of ‘ethnic’ distinctiveness but also a strong consciousness of rank vs. other caste communities. This continuing lack of egalitarianism then poisons urban civic life. It impacts hiring decisions; access to rental housing, health care, and public services; response from law enforcement; judicial verdicts; etc.[6] In our age of economic liberalization, even the Indian private sector oozes discrimination from all its pores. A recent and extensive study, Blocked by Caste, decisively dispels the belief that the private sector is mostly caste-blind and hires based on ‘merit’.[7] It shows that equally qualified Dalit and Muslim résumés are much less likely to get selected than upper-caste ones, and exposes other ‘hidden nuances of caste prejudice in the language of globalisation that contemporary India speaks.’[8] The obvious question this study raises is: why shouldn’t affirmative action be part of the strategy for equalizing opportunity in the private sector? It also shows that the beneficiaries of reservation can travel only so far in the presence of entrenched discrimination in public life. (Read this excellent survey of the reservations debate by Jayati Ghosh. [9])

Notably, my friend supported income- and gender-based reservations. A votary of a technocratic idea of ‘merit’, he was nevertheless willing to trade some ‘merit’ for other social goods, except when it came to caste. He saw the disability of poverty and gender, but minimized the disability of caste, refusing to see how common it is even in urban life, let alone in rural India, where most Indians live. I wondered if he had ever really pondered the sting of casteism, or what Indian society might look like from Dalit perspectives, urban and rural. He seemed to embody all the ignorance, doublethink, and moral myopia of the social class we both belonged to. I saw in him the same empathy deficit that I had been ashamed to discover within myself.

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Read the full post here.

Footnotes:

3. Sanghmitra S. Acharya, ‘Access to Health Care and Patterns of Discrimination: A Study of Dalit Children in Selected villages of Gujarat and Rajasthan’, 2010 (download).
4. An example comes from Professor Subramanium, Chennai Academy of Music, who said the following during a classical music recital: ‘There is folk music and classical music. Carnatic music is scientificallv organized, folk music is not so … people who are not properly trained just sing out of emotion, enthusiasm. Folk music can be sung by any child. Quacks! Carnatic is not like this, you need a talent.’ (source)
5. Amy Chua, ‘World on Fire’, a very good study of many Asian, African, and Latin American countries (not India but lessons apply) that shows how neoliberal economics can worsen ethnic strife. Here is a review.
6. Such crippling negative discrimination can stymie most positive discrimination policies. But even for the blacks in the US, whose situation today is much better than that of Dalits, a ‘results gap’ continues to exist. This article by Orlando Patterson in the Nation explains why.
7. Madhura Swaminathan, ‘Caste & the labour market’, The Hindu, Mar 9, 2010. Among older studies is one by MN Panini, who showed that during the ‘permit raj’ era, the private sector was far from caste neutral or ‘merit based’ and routinely tapped into its caste networks.
8. Latha Jishnu, ‘The economics of caste inequity’, Business Standard, Dec 18, 2009.
9. Jayati Ghosh, ‘Case for Caste Based Quotas in Higher Education’, EPW, June 17, 2006.

Caste and the Syrian Christians

An excerpt from a post by Thomas Joseph, a blogger based in the United States. Read the full post here

Christianity is believed to have come to Kerala in the first century AD when the Apostle Thomas, like other disciples, ventured near and far to spread the gospel in accordance with Christ’s command. There has been some speculation that the reason why St Thomas came to Kerala had less to do with converting the “locals” and was more to do with trying to convert the sizable Jewish population who lived in Kerala especially in Cochin.

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I write about this because there was a communication on a Yahoo group to which I belong consisting of mainly Asians who lived or live in East Africa. Apparently there is a debate going on in the UK about outlawing caste discrimination in Britain – yes, the old-fashioned discrimination against Dalits that is associated with India. There is opposition among some Hindu groups in Britain, to this legislation – in effect arguing that caste discrimination in the UK should not be addressed! This entire issue of seeking to achieve a “protected” status for casteism in the UK by certain Hindu groups is a whole different discussion.

But, in this context another member of the Yahoo group cited an email he received from someone known to me and several other family members which essentially said that such casteism is not just confined to Hindus and that even Christians in Kerala are guilty of the same thing.

A part of his email stated:

“But do you know Hindus are not the only ones to be blamed for this accursed practice. Even the so called upper class Christians in Kerala are guilty of this though they had given up Hinduism centuries ago claiming to have been converted by the Apostle St. Thomas!”

He went on to cite a Goan he knew from many years ago when he was a student in England who apparently asked him what caste he was. He (the Goan) claimed he was of the Brahmin caste. He goes on to say: “Wow! I was confused. My parents had never told me what caste we belonged to, not that it would have interested me in the least.”

Now, I am a Syrian Christian by birth but because of my upbringing in Mombasa, Kenya where there were only a handful of other Syrian Christian families, my involvement in the Syrian Christian faith has been minimal. However, I felt that a response was warranted to address the statements made in that email. Here is the thrust of my response:

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“I presume that by “upper class Christians” he is referring to Syrian Christians – being the descendants of those who were supposedly converted by the Apostle Thomas . In all my years, I have NEVER ONCE heard a Kerala Christian – Syrian or otherwise – referring to him/herself as belonging to so and so caste – as S—– pointed out, it would be incongruous to do so. What does happen is that the older generation talks about their antecedents and how they are descended from Brahmins, etc – incidentally such claims are not provable and are based on anecdotal information at best. Many of these claims of Brahmin antecedents are predicated on the belief that St Thomas converted several prominent Brahmin families in the first century. Some of these families are named in these anecdotes and today, if you check out the family websites of some Syrian Christian families, they claim to have descended from these converted Brahmin families. In fact, references to having come from an “ancient (Syrian Christian) family” are found so often that one wonders if there are any families left that are not ancient:)”

“What Syrian Christian families frequently do is to refer to their antecedents in the context of their family names. This is pretty much the norm in conversations among them – especially the older generation – where one of the first questions asked is where one is from within Kerala and then a query as to one’s family name. The younger generation who were brought up elsewhere in India or abroad, are quite oblivious of this sort of information and often view it as being rather superfluous and inconsequential.”

“My father used to say that the biggest change that had taken place in the social structure in Kerala during his years in Kenya was the diminished importance of family antecedents among Syrian Christians. It has been replaced with affluence – ie how well off is the family! He used to say it with a mixture of regret and pride – those who knew him can relate to his attitude. He was affected to his detriment by its diminished influence but he was intellectually detached enough to recognize that it meant true social progress and he used to say that it was a good thing that a form of meritocracy had taken the place of family antecedents.”

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“Where I do agree with S—- is that there is a pecking order here in terms of how Christians view other Christians – yes, very unchristian but it is a reality. Syrian Christians – perhaps because of their assertion and belief that they were converted by St Thomas – view themselves as a cut above other Kerala Christians. They tend to view other Kerala Christians who were either converted by the Portuguese or the missionaries with diffidence bordering on mild unspoken derision – again, quite contrary to Christian teachings. In fact, even among Syrian Christians, there is a certain amount of denominational rivalry which occasionally gets quite antagonistic. However, when it comes to marriage, denomination invariably ceases to be a factor if an eligible young man or woman appears on the scene! So, pragmatism rules when it comes to self-interest!!”

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Read the full post here

Caste in the diaspora

Excerpts from an essay titled The Persistence of Caste in India and the Diaspora by Moses Seenarine, published on his blog
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Although caste no longer function as important units in the former indentured colonies, it would be a mistake to say that caste is no longer important. The importance of Arya Samaj in the Caribbean attest to this fact.

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In the indentured colonies, caste mobility was practiced by individuals or families through adopting sanskritized habits of a higher caste or varna within the system and not necessarily into a creolized noncaste world. However, a situation developed where claims of upper caste origins were viewed as dubious at best and outrightly fabricated in many instances. So, claims for upper caste status need to be qualified with actual knowledge of the Hindu scriptures, or accompanied by class advantages or political status.

As proof of this, claims for upper caste status by the middle class and upper class are taken more seriously than those made by members of the working class. Since, the number of jandi flags outside the house is co-related to caste status, with more flags translating to higher status, caste has become a consumer item which the middle and upper class can more easily afford. Over time, this process leads to class stratification, class endogamy, and the re-construction of caste among overseas Indians.

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Permutations of Caste in the Diaspora
The Laws of Manu forbade the higher castes to reside outside the land of their birth, and this injuction is still observed by orthodox circles. This means that Brahmins cannot exist outside of India. Yet, in Guyana and the Caribbean, Indian national business families do not do socialize with the local Indian business elite, and do not see themselves as part of an Indian business community. For example, recently over 40 Indian businessmen in Georgetown met to address prolonged demonstrations in the capital, however not a single Indian national attended the meeting. Indian nationals almost always return to India to marry.

The Richmond Hill community in New York is the only community of its kind in the USA that has a concentration of several South Asian groups living together: Punjabi Sikhs, many of whom are followers the Guru Ravi Das, living alongside Indo-Caribbeans and Bangladeshis. This fast-growing South Asian enclave is a lower-class community, however there are also caste related issues operating here since both middle and lower class Indians and Pakistanis treat the majority of Bangladeshis, Indo-Caribbeans and lower-caste Sikhs in general either as “outcastes” or as somewhat “lesser Indians.”

As further evidence of this, South Asian women organizations in New York tend to be dominated by Indian and Pakistani women, and not surprisingly divided along issues of nationality, with Indians and Pakistanis on one side and Bangladeshis on the other. In these organizations, Bangladeshi and Indo-Caribbean women are never included in top leadership and decision making.

South Asian women groups do not even consider outreaching to Indo-Caribbean communities. The same is true for almost all South Asian groups, from the left to the right, from national to international based organizations. Of course, there has always been religious linkages, however it is always in the father/child mode and the child never grows up.
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Read the full essay here

Moses Seenarine is part of the South Asian diaspora from the Caribbean. He has written a book titled Voices from the Subaltern: Education and Empowerment Among Rural Dalit (Untouchable) Women

A day in the life of…

Students of the English and Foreign Languages University, Hyderabad, profiled university employee T. Jyothi for a wall-magazine on caste that was functional in 2008. It is also online here.

Name: Mrs. T Jyoti
Age: 41
Native town: a village in Warangal
Current residence: Hamal Basti

Jyoti’s day begins at 4 a.m. when her eyes open although it is about five by the time she gets out of bed. She cooks for the family and walks fifteen minutes to a private residence where she works as a domestic servant from 7 to 8 a.m. She then reaches EFLU where she spends most of her day, sweeping the grounds until 5 p.m. She admits that recently, her work has considerably increased. When her shift ends, she heads back to the private residence to finish another hour of chores before heading home by 6. Jyoti says she enjoys working so much so that she takes up work in other people’s houses even on weekends.

Once home, Jyoti cleans up the house and cooks for her family. She feels grateful to have children who help her in her work. She has two daughters and one son. She finds her son to be the most obedient, an unusual occurrence in her basti. Jyoti hopes to get him married some day although she proudly refuses to ask for dowry for his wedding, even though it has been a part of their family tradition. But she worries about her two daughters, for whom she’ll have to arrange Rs. 2 lakhs each, for their weddings.

As such, her family has had to face issues of debt in the past as well. Jyoti’s husband being a daily wage earner, his income is subject to availability of work and when he finds it, he earns about Rs. 150/- a day. However, since he is now suffering from diabetes, blood pressure and asthma, his income has become more irregular due to which Jyoti has had to take up the mantle of being the main breadwinner of the family.

Keen on sending her children to a private school, Jyoti had to constantly take loans to pay for their fees, uniforms and books. She is still repaying those debts and sometimes, things get rough. Jyoti recalls how they had to live in the dark for five whole years as they could not afford to pay their monthly electricity bills which amount to Rs. 300/- a month.

One of her few recreations is attending Sunday mass with her family every week. If she finds time, she visits her mother and sisters who live nearby her basti. Jyoti also has a cable connection at home and likes watching some Telugu serials. As a child she used to love watching films although not so much anymore. Speaking of Chiranjeevi’s daughter, she doesn’t approve of love marriage and feels confident that she will arrange the marriage for all her children. After all, as she says, would girls who go in for love marriages respect their mother-in-laws and vice- versa?

For now however, she wants her children to finish their education. Her son Kiran is currently studying engineering while her two daughters, Shailaja and Aruna have finished XII and IX respectively. Jyoti herself never made it past Standard II. As a child, she was never interested in studying. She confesses that she cannot comment on whether her teachers were good or bad, but she was frightened of being beaten when she did not do her homework. Moreover, none of her friends were interested in studying. She was married off at the age of 17 and she now lives with her husband and three children. Though none of her children are interested in studies, Jyoti now understands the value of education. This realization dawned on her when she learnt that a student of EFLU was paid only Rs 5000/- as a starting salary after completing her Ph.D. Looking at such state of affairs faced by the educated, Jyoti fears the future condition of her children. She has therefore kept all her children in school and in fact, has recently enrolled herself into a basic English proficiency course offered by EFLU students for workers.

Jyoti is not completely oblivious to the political developments happening in AP. She often listens to the news while cooking. She is aware of the past and present CM and also the MLA of her constituency. She has even voted a few times in her life. She belonged to the Madiga caste which has traditionally been the caste of cobblers and house servants, before her ancestors chose to become Christians. Unfortunately she has not yet got her SC certificate probably because the government has refused to accord this status to converts.

T.Jyoti is an employee at EFLU for the last 20 years. She joined in 1984 as a house keeper and now works as a sweeper. Much to her happiness, she has recently been made a permanent employee which has increased her monthly wage to a respectable Rs. 5000/-

 

- From the Out-Caste blog

Inter-caste marriages in Nepal

Excerpts from an article on the Global Press Institute website

Article found via the Inter-Caste blog intended to ‘end inter-caste and intra-caste caste apartheid in Nepal’

Inter-caste Newlyweds Face Eviction, Discrimination in Nepal

by Tara Bhattarai, Senior Reporter, Tuesday – August 17, 2010

 
KATHMANDU, NEPAL – “Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles and leaps fences,” says Sunita Sahi, 19, as she looks out the window of a bus. Her gaze falls on a young couple, kissing. “We were also in [an] affair,” she says, gesturing to her husband who sits next to her, caressing her hand. “But our families and society did not accept us.”

Sahi married Bimal Auji, 22, one year ago.

Sahi has a fair complexion, an oval face and a slim body. Her looks give away her caste. She is a member of the Thakuri caste. Sahi is from Kanchanpur in the far-western district of Nepal, nearly 400 miles from Kathmandu. Today, she and Auji live in Kathmandu. Auji is also from Kanchanpur, but he comes from a different background. To Sahi’s family, he is “untouchable.”
When news spread that a lower-caste man had proposed to an upper-caste woman, Sahi says her parents were determined to prevent the wedding.

“But our love was like an unbreakable chain,” Sahi says. “Nobody could separate us despite [the] torture,” she says as Auji shows the scars on his arms and hands — remnants of a fight where a group of villagers, including Sahi’s brothers, attacked him.

“I don’t care about the attacks by her family, I only care for her,” Auji says.

…

One year ago, Sahi and Auji left home without informing their parents. They eloped in India. Both families found out about the marriage a week later when the couple returned to Kanchanpur. Immediately, Sahi and Auji began receiving threats from Sahi’s family.

“I was physically attacked by relatives of my wife’s maternal home three times,” Auji says. “They even threatened to kill [me] if I did not leave Sahi.”

Auji says his family members are not against the marriage.

As the threats continued, the couple decided to leave their village.

“I sobbed my heart out for days when we left our village for a far-off place, leaving all our relatives,” Sahi says. “Had my family not gone against my will to marry the guy whom I loved to bits, we would have happily stayed there.”

The couple moved to Kathmandu and found themselves in a position similar to many other inter-caste couples – evicted from their homes and villages. Jagaran Media Centre, JMC, an NGO working for Dalit rights, recently released a report that revealed that dozens of couples were forced to leave their homes and villages in 2008 after marrying a member of a different caste. According to the report, there is no data available about this issue on the national scale.

…
*After the publication of this story, both Sahi and Auji got jobs and their case received national attention. A television documentary was made on their story and the prime minister’s special cell on violence against women has taken this case.

***
Read the full article here

Caste on Orkut

Shobha, a blogger and journalist from Mumbai, writes on her blog:

Caste communities on Orkut

What do you guys think of the Orkut Communities where the common underlying purpose of their origin is CASTE? There are so many of them viz. Iyers, Brahmins, Iyengars, Panchals, Patels, etc. In India, surnames are the prime indicators of which section of the society one belongs to. Asking for one’s surname is a rampant thing in Maharashtra. Whenever I am asked my name, people are never satisfied if I say my name is Shobha. Their immediate question would be, ‘Shobha what?’ thus emphasizing the need for a surname. This is one of the ways to identity the caste you belong to.

Personally, I am extremely uncomfortable being a part of such communities. For me, joining a community where the only thing I have in common with others is the fact we all belong to a SAME CASTE is something I am just not comfortable with. Sometimes I wonder what could be discussed in forums like these…. There can be interesting discussions based on understanding of certain rituals, festivals and lot of other stuff. But I still wonder, do we need a forum based on a certain CASTE for that? Can’t people do it in any other way? Most of the discussions I have seen are sad {my personal opinion}

…
Read the full post here

Gaurav Mishra has written about caste-based websites and Orkut communities on the Digiactive blog…

Caste Based Communities on Orkut Mirror India’s Splintered Society

…

Caste-based communities on Orkut are another disturbing example of online communities mirroring the dysfunctions in Indian society.

For instance, there are more than 1000 communities for Brahmins on Orkut. There are 461 Brahmin communities listed under culture and community, 591 under religion and beliefs, 87 under activities and 117 under others.

One of the most popular Brahmin community, with 28, 726 members, randomly claims: “we r clever & hardworking .no one can fool us…” The Brahmans community with 41952 members and the Brahmins of India community with 30588 members are also very popular.
The other popular Brahmin communities are those for the various Brahmin sub-castes like Gawd Saraswat Brahmin (GSB) (12,189 members), Kokanastha Brahmin (4038 members), Deshashtha Brahmin (4083 members), Garhwali Brahmin (3067 members), Daivadnya Brahmin (2654 members) and Gaur Brahmin (2055 members). Another group, Brahmin Culture and Tradition is “dedicated to the purpose of uniting Brahmins to revive, preserve, protect and propagate the Brahmin culture to descendants without intimidation or dilution from anti-Brahminical forces.”

Interestingly, it seems that most of the threads under topics related to Brahmins have to do with defining the different types of Brahmins under various sub-castes.

There are also more than 1000 communities for Yadavs on Orkut, including gems like modern yadav girls and boys (5759 members).

Similarly, there are more than a 1000 Rajput communities on Orkut, including the Rajput the Royal Family community with 35,481 mebers, which asks people to join the group “if your soul justifies that you are Rajput both by soul and by nature.”

Dalits have about 200 mostly small communities on Orkut.

Perhaps, the low number of Dalit communities on Orkut says something about Indian society in general, and Orkut users in particular. Higher, more powerful, castes like Brahmins, Rajputs and Yadavs tend to have more money and easier access to the internet and old disparities are further accentuated by the internet.

Caste-based communities, however, aren’t unique to Orkut.

Brahminsamaj.org is “a global platform for the Brahmin Community where you will learn, share and find lot of information, knowledge and fun.” Thambraas Muhurtham wants that “all Brahmins should come forward to marry breaking the sects and subsects within Brahmins, particularly Brahmins of Thamizhnadu.” It also points out that “the entire sects and subsects of South Indian brahmin population are totally vegetarians unlike certain brahmins of other parts of India.” A couple on the homepage of Marry A Brahmin claim that its “focused approach on Brahmin matches helped us find each other as true soul mates.” Brahmin Connections is “proud to present an opportunity and a platform to our young Brahmins and their parents to connect with each other across the world for the matrimonial purpose.” Brahmins Matrimony says that “it is the right place to search for your life partner!”

There are dedicated websites for sub-castes as well. Sakhdwipi aims “to provide a common forum for the Shakdwipis to know each other and interact with each other.” KeralaIyers aims “to delve into the history, trace the roots, portray the life of modern day Kerala Iyers, and chronicle the achievements of this community.” iKalyanam claims to be “the only exclusive site for Iyer matrimonials.” Shivalli Brahmins wishes “to bring together all Shivalli Brahmins residing in different parts of the world, through meaningful discussions about their traditions.” GSBMatch is a matrimonial website for the Gowd and Saraswat Brahmin community. ModhBrahmin.org and BrahmanSamaj.org claim that “history proves that the people of Modh Brahmin Samaj are very enterprising and very resourceful” and aims to “bring all brothers and sisters of Samaj close.” Jangid Brahmin Samaj is a community for Jangid Brahmins. RSBNet is “a single stop source of information regarding the origin, customs, culture, history of Rajapur Saraswath Brahmins.”

Similarly, there are dedicated websites for other castes as well.
…
Gaurav Mishra heads the digital and social media practice for the MSL Group Asia.

Read the full post here

Caste in Pakistan: The Elephant in the Room

Excerpts from this blog post by Shahbano Aliani

…

In a village in Southern Punjab, a young boy from a ‘lower-caste’ is accused of dishonouring the ‘high caste’ tribe by having an affair with one of their women. The village panchayat orders the gang rape of the boy’s sister by the ‘high caste’ men so that they may restore the honour of their tribe.

These stories have a familiar ring. Variants occur with alarming regularity in Pakistan; some covered by the media, but most covered up by the silence, fear and helplessness of the victims; and the indifference of the rest of society.

What do these stories have in common? Gender, surely; all the victims are women. But there is another common thread as well. In the “Islamic Republic of Pakistan”, both Dalit Hindu and Muslim women are subject to humiliation, control and violence because of their gender as well as their caste.

Most activists, development workers and policy makers may not immediately recognize caste as an important social justice and social policy issue, especially for Muslims in the country. However, almost everyone in Pakistan will readily admit that caste or biradari, quom, zaat or jaat is an important part of social identity, especially in the rural areas. Most adults will have encountered questions about their caste or zaat when in a new village or town. Many have married in their own caste, never having considered the option of marrying outside their Biradari, Quom or Zaat. Almost everyone will have heard or used derogatory references to caste such as Bhangi (janitor). As Haris Gazdar argues, “In fact, the kinship group, known variously as zaat, biraderi and quom in different parts of the country, remains a key - perhaps the key - dimension of economic, social and political interaction.” A contesting formulation has been presented by Arif Hasan through his writings on social change (see, for example, “The Silent Revolution”). His view is supported by Akbar Zaidi (though his take on feudalism is a bit radical) and Raza Ali (through his work on Urbanization). The main argument is that because of technological changes (e.g. tractors in fields and Suzuki pickups on farm-to-market roads), traditional social structures are becoming weaker; a new class of middlemen has emerged that controls the market; urbanization is gradually embracing modernity. As far as I understand, both Arif Hasan and Haris Gazdar are partly correct: things are changing (albeit slowly) but the coercive structures are still there.

When questioned, however, if caste is a problem, most Pakistanis will disagree. Many will argue, quite heatedly, that it’s a problem only for Hindus across the border. Using circular reasoning, they will insist that the caste-system is not Islamic and since the majority of us are Muslims, therefore, there is no caste problem in Pakistan. The caste system practiced by the Muslims of north India is based on three tiers: ashraaf, ajlaaf and arzal.

Public denial is so ingrained and widespread that there is no official legislation that acknowledges and addresses caste-based discrimination. Inadequate legislation, yes. Non-existent, no. After the partition of British India in 1947, Pakistan had inherited the list of Scheduled Castes and Tribes, and the constitution of Pakistan (like the 1935 constitution) forbids discrimination on the basis of caste. Beyond lip service, there was a 6% quota in government jobs for scheduled castes from 1948 to 1998. This was sadly never fully utilized. However, we do not have progressive legislation (like they have in India; though they have issues of their own). And apart from a few articles and studies (many of the recent ones referred to in this paper), there is virtually no documentation and data on “lower caste” peoples, including Dalit Hindus in Pakistan.

In my own work, development workers and researchers have argued that caste is not relevant to either development (poverty alleviation) or to research on social and economic issues. My colleagues, who work in districts with about 40% – 50% Hindus (the majority of them Dalit) have insisted that we cannot include caste in survey questionnaires, arguing that (1) we will get so many castes that the data will be difficult to handle, or (2) we will be accused of working for a specific caste. This resistance has been expressed by both Hindus and Muslims, though more notably by Muslim colleagues. When I have included caste in questionnaires, despite heated arguments, the indicator has been removed in final research instruments by the managers in charge of overseeing the research. I think that some clarification is needed here. The question on caste was included in the PEWC baseline survey and during tabulation we found that we had a very long list of responses because many respondents had mentioned their subcastes instead of caste. For many of these subcastes, some of us didn’t know their castes. A list of castes and subcastes from responses was given to CRU staff for preparing a proper list. This was not done and at some point in time we decided to go ahead without it. It should also be noted that most of the non-Muslim respondents in Tharparkar belonged to the Meghar community as our social mobilisers knew them through their PDCs, etc. I should also stress that the baseline wasn’t looking at the coorelation between caste and child work — we could have done that but then our methodology would have been different: propotionate sample for various castes instead of settlements.

It appears that caste is the elephant in the room. Everyone knows its there, but no one wants to talk about it, let alone address. As Haris Gazdar puts it, “The public silencing on caste contrasts with an obsession with it in private dealings and transactions.”

The Pakistani caste system has developed along lines similar to those in India. Syeds (also known as Shahs in Sindh) claim to be the descendants of the prophet Muhammad (SAW) and are the highest caste in most places. In Punjab, the Ranas (Rajpoots), Chaudhurys and Maliks are considered higher caste, whereas the Kammis (workers), Chuhras (“untouchable” sweepers who are mostly Christian), Mussali (Muslim shaikh - menial workers) and Miraasi (musicians) are considered lower caste. In the NWFP, “lower castes” are referred to as Neech Zaat (low caste) and Badnasal (of bad lineage). In Balochistan the “lower castes” include Ghulams (slaves), Lohris (musicians), and Lachhis (Dalits). In Sindh, “high-caste” Muslims, in addition to Shahs and Syeds, include the Akhunds, Effendis, Soomros, Talpurs, and Pirs. Hajjams (barbers), Dhobis (washers), Kumbhars (potters), Maachis/ Mallahs (fisherfolk) and Bhajeer (Dalit converts to Islam) are considered “low caste”. In places like Swat, the Quom system is comparative to the Hindu caste system. Here, groups are divided rigidly according to occupation. Quoms do not intermarry or live together. The fact that caste is an important social identity for Pakistani Muslims is reinforced in matchmaking/ marriage services, where caste is one of the key attributes mentioned by prospective brides and grooms. Caste based marriage preferences and associations are documented amongst Pakistanis in the Diaspora, especially in the UK.

Like in India and Nepal, “lower caste” Hindus and Muslims are excluded and persecuted by “upper castes”, especially men. According to the Joint NGO report submitted to the UN Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination (CERD) in February 2009, Pakistan is one of the few countries of the world where slavery still exists in the form of bonded labour. Most bonded labourers in Pakistan are the adults and children of Dalit and lower caste Muslim and Christian families.

The denial of the “caste problem” starts with statistics. The most recent 1998 census estimates the number of Dalit Hindus at just above 300,000; a minority amongst the estimated 2 million Pakistani Hindus. Dalit leaders and activists, including 5 former legislators estimate the figure to be closer to 2 million. They believe that both the “upper caste” Hindus and the Pakistani government do not want to recognize the actual numbers so no special legislation or programmes have to be designed to address the issues of Dalits and discrimination against them.

For the most part, Dalits are socially excluded, most of them forced to live on the outskirts of towns and villages or confined to their own paras or villages. Government and even NGOs working in their areas will often bypass Bheel and Kohli paras in Tharparkar altogether. Due to poverty and lack of assets, they are forced to take up farm and cleaning work that no one else will do; and excluded from community events such as weddings. If they are invited, they have to eat out of separate utensils. They are denied essential social services and equal treatment in public spaces, humiliated in hospitals, public buses and schools. Much of the land they have lived on for centuries belongs to the state; they have no legal claim to it.

Undoubtedly, apart from their children perhaps, Dalit women are one of the poorest and most vulnerable and marginalized group of individuals in the country. They are politically and socially excluded from the mainstream and vulnerable to discrimination and violence due to their gender as well as their caste.

…

At a time of increased militarization and polarization, can we afford to continue to ignore such a pervasive and divisive issue that makes women even more vulnerable to violence, oppression and discrimination? Caste is a women’s issue and perhaps its time for South Asian feminists in Pakistan to start speaking up about it.

Read the full blog post here.

The author works with the Thardeep Rural Development Programme and is based in Karachi, Pakistan.

Oral poetry of Kalahandi 2

Edited excerpts follow from Oral Poetry of Kalahandi collected and translated by Mahendra K. Mishra & Lal Ashutosh Dash, published in 2008 by Adibasi Sanskruti Gabesana Parishad, Sinapali, Nuapada District, 766 108.

Read the first set of excerpts from the book here.

From the introduction:

Oral poetry from Kalahandi is sung, accompanied with a group, music and dance. Anyone in the community can be a singer or dancer without prior training, irrespective of age or sex. Besides these, the Gonds and Kondhs have clan-based, professional singers who recite caste genealogies and origin myths of these tribes. Those who do not have caste bards have specialists drawn from their society to retain their ethnic history and legends through oral narratives.

Sajani song
Songs sung by women in western Orissa.

A girl has married out of caste and is insecure. Her beloved consoles her with the following lines:

Sajani, Nuabandhe pani nain
Jati gala bali bhalibu nahin
Tora kaje achhe muin.

No water in the new pond.
Fear not,
For you’ve not lost your caste
I’m there for you.

A social custom of taking bride price is current among the people of western Orissa. The bride’s father takes the bride price – ‘hajra’ from the bridegroom’s father in money, gold, buffalo, cows etc.
In this song, the drunkard husband demands money from his wife in return for the bride price. If money is not available, he wants to sell her earrings to purchase liquor.

Sajani, Pika patar reka reka
Tor bua khaiche chhakodi tanka
Kanara phasia dekha.

The tobacco leaf is striated.
Your father swallowed hundred and twenty rupees.
Show me your earrings.

Gender disparity is acute. Such disparity is visible in the day-to-day activities of the family. Here a man enjoys meat while the woman is deprived of it.

Sajani, Kasi baunsara dhuna
Ghaita khauchhe sikara tuna
Maiji chatuche nuna

A bow of tender bamboo.
The husband is relishing meat.
The wife is licking salt.

The collective mind retains events that are uncommon. Skylab was a threat to the people. They believed that it was like a bomb and that when it fell on the earth they would perish. Some old people arranged marriages hurriedly for their children and grandchildren in the hope that they would be able to live some days of conjugal life before the world ended.

Sajani, Gilase rakhilum macha
Gola parba bali kapila desa
Gola katha hela sesa.

The fish in a glass,
All the land is in panic.
That the monster ball would fall.
The gola(Skylab) store ended.

This song points to the corruption of government officials. A common man passes this sly remark to a block office employee, that he takes away the property of the government.

Sajani, Ahare kalami ama
Balaka bhitare karucha kama,
Gamchare neba dhana.

O mango of the grafted tree.
You are working in the block office.
You’ll take money hidden in the towel.

The schoolmaster is an important person in the rural scenario. People notice all his activities. The schoolmaster goes to the market and forgets to keep his school time. This is considered a sort of negligence on his part and is criticized.

Sajani, Semi sag basi hela
Gaar master bazaar gala
Gharike pasri dela

Bean leafs went rotten overnight.
The village schoolmaster went
To the market
He forgot to look at the clock.

…

From Oral Poetry of Kalahandi by Mahendra K. Mishra & Lal Ashutosh Dash

Published in 2008 by Adibasi Sanskruti Gabesana Parishad, Sinapali, Nuapada District, 766 108