The
‘Other’ India: A Glimpse, an Enlightenment and a Hope
Among
the ruins of Hampi, I found a new beginning.
The occasion was a conference.
And this has nothing to do with intellectualism, for I no longer believe
that Universities or institutions of Higher Learning offer any “higher
learning” at all. There is no cynicism
in what I say, for it is through experience that today, with regret, I note
that Universities have nothing much to offer, except politics and corruption. But let me not shy away from what I have to
say or share. Many may not agree, but
then, when did that deter me?
The
Conference was on Media and Women and I had the opportunity to meet and listen
to many Kannada women writers and also men who spoke about women,
marginalization etc. But that is not
what struck me. The conference began not with an Invocation but with beautiful
music by the students who were learning music there in the University. The lamp was lighted, not by barefoot Sanskritised
women, but by the marginalized and not so barefooted! A casual remark by a senior Dalit women
writer that tomorrow’s newspapers might report that the ceremonial lamp was lit
by slipper clad women did nothing to dampen the spirits of those gathered there,
On the contrary it brought it a defiance, let them report it! That was a breather for slowly I was getting
a taste and feel of what it was on the “other “side. I belong to neither the Dalit nor the
Sanskritised. But I am the “other” of
the “Other” which is again a distancing within a distancing. Being a Dalit and
sympathizing with one are two different things!
No amount of empathy could probably reveal the intensity of the
“othering” which takes place in one’s life!
I felt comfortable as an Indian, and was treated as such. My comfort zone was that I did not have to
feel the “not-belonging-here” attitude.
For that is what I have increasingly begun to feel in this country which
I belong to, but which increasingly is now telling me that you do not
belong. I would at this juncture like to
share what I went through as an experience in Kuvempu University, Karnataka
where I am an employee, but am now on a deputation to another University.
It
was the time when attacks were taking place on Christians in the country. Churches were attacked, nuns raped and
evangelists with their small children burnt in open jeeps. There was fear amongst
the Christians in the country. With these kind of news floating around, and
having seen pictures in newspapers and news channels, one does live with
apprehension! But then that does not
deter one from attending everyday work and neither does one view everybody with
suspicion! Walking up the steps of the
building which housed the department of
English, I met one of the staff of the University, who was an
acquaintance and familiar ,who said smilingly, “You must all be sent to England”, to which I replied “ If
you want to send me, then send me to Syria. Because I am a Syrian Christian” to
which there was a total blank look of bewilderment, confusion and absolute
ignorance on his face, which to be true to myself, I enjoyed maliciously and
enormously!! This is the India where I
am ‘othered’ all the time.
This
was just a detour, let me not wean away from what I intend to say. Back to the
Conference. The end of the day brought
in an evening with a delightful, casual
blend of non-formality, music and a beautiful camaraderie of the writers
gathered there. They sang, recited
poetry, shared experiences, ate, relaxed, accepted deviances with a confidence
and a cleanliness which was healthy and was suffused with candor. I could see none of the “writer’s politics”
work there. It broke proverbs of “Too many chefs spoil the broth”. I could see and feel that the broth was
cooking and boiling merrily wafting fragrance and taste of good things to come.
Then came the announcement of food. The question whether we would like to have
it in the garden where all of us broke barriers of power and position, was met
with a common opinion of sitting at the dining table! The eating place has
always been a contested one. There are
rules, traditions and customs which are varied in India. The tradition to which I had been exposed to,
was different from what I had encountered with a few that I have had with
people who belonged to different religious structures. There was no compulsion
on where the salt had to be placed or when the sweet had to be served, neither
were there leaves which had to face a certain position and side! There was no proper way of sitting for food
and here, we ate with our slippers on, some with jeans and yet a few others
with dupatta abandoned! The body politic was nonexistent. It was a liberating experience. What was more liberating was the fact, that
we were all women, some vegetarians and some non-vegetarians, some young, some
old but none of the vegetarians screwed up their noses when the dishes of
chicken were brought in and ate with abandon.
There was acceptance in difference and food and dress was not a dividing
factor. I did not feel an outsider
there. I belonged. And this was an experience which enlightened me about the
other India which exists side by side with the mainstream tradition, which
thrives, which is exhilarating and alive and gives hope. Call them backward, call them Dalits, but
they are very much a part of this country. Being with them and speaking to them
and listening to their ideas was an eye opener.
It was knowledge born out of experience and pain and they were here to
wield the microphones to make India listen. They did not talk about religion,
tradition and customs, there was nothing which was taboo and the smile on their
faces was infectious! I saw no malice at
achievement and reading, I saw genuine pleasure at complements, and I saw an
India that I belonged to.
What
was very endearing was a small performance from one of the participants in the
conference which knuckled out the debate on various sensitive issues in our
society which denies the right to food to certain sections of the society. Just
a few words on that.
The
story runs thus. In a village lived an
old dalit husband and wife. Some enlightened villagers gathered together
to support the ban on cow meat, came up with a memorandum to the submitted to
the village authorities, and asked the old husband and wife to thumbprint it. What followed is priceless. I shall try to
put in as much as I remember and if I do forget something, the person who
performed it will certainly understand and add.
Asked
the old couple “ Do you own a cow?”
“No”
“Have
you fed one?”
“No”
"Have
you bathed one?”
“No”
“Have
you milked one?”…
“No”…
“When
a cow dies, we are called to take it away. You step on the noble cow when you
wear the chappals which are the hide of the cow. And you talk about cow
protection?”
Literacy
is not knowledge and knowledge is not anyone’s property. It is the “other” that we have to turn to if
India has to exist in its totality. This is possible when there is
inclusion. What knowledge was propagated
or gleaned in the conference is one thing, what I carried away from there is
the hope that all is not yet lost.
