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By Chandra Bhan Prasad The dalit survivors of the tsunami were reportedly thrown out of relief camps, barred from using makeshift toilets, and given stale food. What will it take to wash away this powerful and destructive caste order that is so firmly rooted in Indian society, asks Chandra Bhan Prasad
The death and devastation caused by the tsunami didn't drown the spirit of India and its citizens. India's quick relief and rescue missions despatched to neighboring countries despite grief back home, has earned the country a new distinction – that of a responsible, humanitarian nation-state. India’s refusal to accept foreign aid has put the country in the ‘givers’ club, a distinction hitherto reserved for Europe or North America. Indians back home redefined themselves. Known as credible penny-pinchers, they opened their wallets in an unparalleled manner. School kids sent their savings from pocket expenses to the Prime Minister's Relief Fund. Prisoners in jail collected money. The corporate sector, sportspersons, artists, almost every section of Indians, demonstrated their benevolence and concern. However, like the deadly tsunami which travelled hidden, underwater, untouchability too lived up to its potential. The untouchable survivors of the tsunami were thrown out of relief camps. They were reportedly barred from using makeshift toilets, and given leftover, stale food. In moments of shock and grief, people tend to sink petty differences as a sense of universal humanity prevails, bringing them closer than ever before. If the tsunami couldn't wash away untouchability, untouchability must be more powerful, more devastating, more enduring than the tsunami. What happened in the relief camps of Nagapattinam is not an exception, it just reflected a reality so rooted in society that even the tsunami couldn't wash it away. On June 25, 2004 , India 's premier news agency flashed a story from Madurai , a southern district of Tamil Nadu. According to the story, male dogs owned by dalits are not allowed to enter the non-dalit locality in Shanmughapuram, a village falling in Tuticorin district. Apparently, non-dalits feared that the dalit dogs would mate with their dogs, in violation of the social code sanctified by Hinduism and protected by the caste order. Tamil Nadu itself is not an exception. In the aftermath of the Gujarat earthquake in January 2001, when thousands lost their lives and millions were rendered homeless, a similar pattern of discrimination against dalits was witnessed. In January this year, in fact, some dalit youth were forced to drink urine as punishment in India's northern, fairly prosperous state of Punjab, after dalit and non-dalit boys of the village clashed over a game of cricket. The non-dalits of the village took the assertion of the dalit boys as an offence. The dalit boys were summoned by the village head, who pronounced judgment: urinate in your shoes, and make these dalit culprits drink that. At gun-point, dalit boys had to suffer this humiliation. A week later, a dalit and his non-dalit wife, seven month pregnant, were found murdered in Ludhiana , Punjab 's business city. The couple had married a year previously, outraging her powerful Jat-Sikh parents. The girl's parents had been threatening both of them. Strange as it may appear, the girl's parents had fled to Australia a week before the murder actually took place. The Punjab police are investigating the case. India is a large country, diverse in terms of language, climate, cropping pattern, food habits and dress. But discrimination against the dalits remains uniform all over India . In Madhya Pradesh, the central Indian state, three dalit women of a family were gang-raped on July 5, 2004 . The gang-rape was in fact a punishment. A day before, a dalit boy had eloped with a non-dalit Yadav girl with the purpose of marrying her. They had been in love for quite some time. The girl's family organised the gang-rape. The dalit women were dragged from their home and raped by nine non-dalit youth, with the full sanction of the villagers. In West Bengal last July, dalits in Murshidabad district were prevented from entering the Durga Puja pandal, a religious festival meant to bring people together. Reports keep pouring in of non-dalit school children in the West Bengal countryside refusing to share their midday meal with dalit children. In the state of Bihar , a landlord can kill dalits just to test the accuracy of a newly procured gun. The whole of India 's countryside is lethal for dalits: that most of us know. But is urban India any different? True, the dalits in urban India have some breathing space, a dignified existence in comparison to the countryside. But given the more democratic atmosphere afforded by urban centres, the dalit’s social existence is less than rosy. If, of a population of 166 million dalits -- 45.7 million more than the combined population of France and England -- we can’t name five dalits who are journalists in mainstream media establishments, then there is something terribly wrong with this society. If there are not even two dalit columnists in India , or even one dalit as anchor on a host of news channels, then there must be something very wrong with this society. If there is not a single dalit member of India 's premier industrial bodies such as the CII or FICCI, then there must be some inherent flaw in this society. If there is not a single dalit-owned company traded on India 's stock exchanges, or if there is a single dalit member of New Delhi ’s prestigious India International Centre, then there is something shockingly amiss with this society. In India 's refusal to accept foreign aid in the wake of the tsunami destruction, there was a monumental arrogance born of a newfound confidence as a cash-rich country that can address the situation using its own resources. It is true that a buoyant India can address the disaster on its own. It is also true that India can be a genuine donor country. With considerable foreign exchange reserves, India can brandish its affluence internationally. India is apparently so rich that it allows its Members of Parliament to play with Rs 15.90 billion annually. A similar amount is allocated by state governments to MLAs (Members of Legislative Assemblies in the states). However, what is hidden beneath this, almost like the tsunami racing under water, is the condition of the dalits. According to government reports, enrolment of dalit children in schools is almost 100%. But nearly 80% of them drop out before matriculation. Most children who drop out of the school system belong to landless dalit parents, or the urban poor. Strange as it may seem, the scholarship rate for primary classes is, in most states, less than Rs 0.50 a day. Dalit organisations have often demanded a hike in scholarship rates, but government says it has no money. This is another truth -- either the government believes in caste apartheid, or it is genuinely bankrupt, notwithstanding the ‘affluence’ which India is flaunting in the world community. Natural calamities such as the tsunami or earthquake are nature's wrath, built into the very system of nature. Man can only take precautionary measures, minimise impacts, launch rescue and relief operations, and rehabilitate the victims. India 's untouchability and its caste order are man-made and can easily be eradicated by man-made measures. The school kids shown on TV channels saving money from their pocket expenses for the tsunami victims are the ones who have inherited privileges born of the caste order. Such schoolkids can often get Rs 50 a day as pocket money. The majority of untouchable children on the other hand, leave the school system forever to earn Rs 5 a day in order to supplement the income of their parents. Post-tsunami, a music group in Kolkatta organised concerts, a fashion designer organised a show, a sportsperson and a film actor pitched in, a retired government employee broke his National Savings Certificate prematurely, and a wealthy housewife organised a special kitty party to raise money for the tsunami survivors. We have the wealth and the willpower to handle nature's fury. But not a word of consolation for the survivors of untouchability, not a moment to spare to fight untouchability, not a penny to rehabilitate victims of the caste order? (Chandra Bhan Prasad is a dalit activist, writer and columnist. He is based in New Delhi.) InfoChange News & Features, February 2005
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