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.