In the pervasive ambience of attempts to right the "wrongs" of history, it is perhaps natural for a person to feel offended by Bhangi Darwaza, which is the name of one of the 12 gateways inside the historical fort of Mandu, or Mandava, located in Dhar district of Madhya Pradesh.
Notified as Bhangi Darwaza all the way back in 1951, Vyapam whistleblower and social activist Dr Anand Rai found the name so insulting that he had his lawyer Abhinav P Dhanodkar dispatch legal notices on the Union government’s Secretary of Culture and two senior officials of Bhopal Circle of the Archaeological Survey of India.
Rai’s legal notice demands that the name Bhangi Darwaza should be denotified within 15 days, failing which he would file a public interest litigation with the Indore Bench of the Madhya Pradesh High Court. The legal notice, dispatched on Friday, November 13, should reach the three officers this week.
Sanctifying myths
Rai stumbled upon the ASI’s narrative of Bhangi Darwaza on his recent trip to the picturesque, historical site of Mandu. Not only did the stone tablet at the dilapidated gateway identify it as Bhangi Darwaza, it provided, in a few words, the historical backdrop for the name that is decidedly strange and mysterious.
The stone tablet says, “It is named after a Bhangi who is stated to have been offered as sacrifice on the completion of the Fort – the gateway, built in trabeate style, is probably pre-Islamic. Its roof has fallen down.” Trabeate is a style of architecture in which beams are placed across two vertical columns to support the weight of the superstructure. It was the style favoured in India before the advent of Muslim rulers, who brought in the arcuate form of construction in which arches support the weight.
Mandu pops up in a Sanskrit inscription dated 555 AD, and in later centuries was ruled by the Pratiharas and the Paramaras. It was attacked and invaded by Muslim rulers in the 13th century and was annexed to the Delhi Sultanate in the first decade of the 14th century. Like so many historical sites in India, Mandu has the imprint, and remains, of both pre-Islamic and Islamic periods.
The ASI’s description of Bhangi Darwaza stung Rai, not the least because he belongs to a backward caste. “I was offended, felt demeaned,” he said to me. “The description of Bhangi Darwaza would make a visitor think certain castes are no better than animals, fit to be offered as a sacrifice. I was horrified that the ASI, a government body, could show such insensitivity to a caste. The name is in violation of the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989. What do they mean by saying that a Bhangi was sacrificed here?”
It does seem the ASI has turned a possible folklore into a historical fact or evidence. For one, its own description of Bhangi Darwaza, rather vaguely, says, “It is stated…” Stated by whom and where? It does not tell us.
Behind the name
There was always a concrete reason behind naming a pre-modern structure when it was constructed, says Prof Sunil Kumar, who teaches history at Delhi University. “For instance,” he points out, “Kashmiri Gate was so called because a person had to pass through it to take the route to Kashmir. Similarly, Turkman Gate drew its name from the fact that in its vicinity there was a Turkish settlement.”
From this perspective, it is possible to imagine that there was perhaps a settlement of outcastes near what is called Bhangi Darwaza. Or perhaps the gateway was exclusively reserved for the outcastes to enter the fort.
In its time, though, the Darwaza couldn’t have been christened Bhangi. “This is because,” Prof Kumar argues, “the word Bhangi was coined in the 19th century.” The fort of Mandu is of much earlier vintage.
So is it then the case of affixing a 19th century word, post-Independence, on the fort built centuries ago?
Bhangi has come to denote a caste employed in cleaning latrines and engaged in sanitation. However, in his essay, Casting the ‘Sweeper’: Local politics of Sanskritisation, Caste and Labour, Nicolas Jaoul says Bhangi wasn’t a caste, but a nomenclature under which were clubbed members of different jatis who were employed as sanitation workers under the colonial rule.
They were earlier impoverished agricultural workers in villages, from where, for the purpose of earning a livelihood, they migrated to towns. Using caste networks, the civic authorities employed the erstwhile agricultural labourers for tasks deemed unclean. Jaoul writes, “The different jatis who provided labourers for such jobs as sweepers, garbage collectors and underground sewage workers, mostly for the municipalities and the factories, became categorised as ‘sweepers’”.
In an email response to this writer, Jaoul said, “It seems that in North India and places where Muslims ruled, the people performing the tasks of sweepers and (manual) scavengers used to be called "mehtars". This (term) seems to have been used predominantly during British rule. But Gandhi and the Hindu reformists like the Arya Samaj sought to Hinduise them and preferred the name "bhangi", the etymology of which means "discarded". Some people in these communities also mention that Bhangi refers to one who consumes bhang or hemp.”
The link between bhang or hemp and Bhangi is a later-day Brahminical spin, says Dr Shailesh Kumar Darokar, associate professor, Tata Institute of Social Sciences, who for more than a decade has been researching manual scavenging. The word Bhangi denoting untouchables doesn’t occur in any of the Vedic scriptures. He affirms what Jaoul says – that under Mughal rule those who were engaged as sweepers were called mehtar, which directly translates to “prince”.
Untouchable as the Broken Man
Darokar offers two theories on the origin of the word Bhangi. One, he says Bhangi was one who “broke or split the bhang or bamboo” to make bamboo products. Two, Bhangi was the term used to describe war captives, or those who had been defeated and broken. The war captives of yore were treated as untouchables. The idea of being defeated or broken was subsequently elaborated upon by Ambedkar to describe the Untouchable as the Broken Man.
The war captives were all soldiers in the king’s army which had been vanquished. This is perhaps why, argues Dr Darokar, many Dalit groups of today, settled in Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh and Gujarat, share the Kshatriya titles such as Solanki and Chauhan. He says Bhangi as a caste of manual scavengers was institutionalised under the colonial rule, much in the manner Jaoul has detailed.
Nevertheless, what these accounts quite clearly establish is that Bhangi as a caste, as is understood today, has a history of perhaps two centuries. It is possible the Darwaza in Mandu had a settlement of outcastes or it was reserved exclusively for their use. However, the person who notified it as Bhangi Darwaza chose a more recent term, with all its humiliating undertones, to describe them.
Considering the naming of Bhangi Darwaza seems a case of myth-making or treating a local tale as a historical fact, should the ASI accede to the demand of Rai? Prof Kumar thinks it is a complex issue. “The word nigger, now commonly accepted as derogatory, occurs in literature and songs. Should the word nigger be substituted or effaced?”
However, Darokar argues, “Yes, the name certainly requires a change. In a democratic country like India it is unacceptable.” Adds Jaoul, “Names are very important, especially for those who are constantly named by others, and whose names carry a stigma.”
For Rai, it is also about how contemporary India perceives certain aspects of the past to be more important than the rest. To drive home this point, he refers to the controversy surrounding the Bhojshala complex, located about 20 km away from Mandu. The Hindutva brigade claims Bhojshala had a temple which was destroyed to build a mosque.
Rai asks, “How come the RSS has been silent on Bhangi Darwaza? Why is it that the RSS never thought the name Bhangi Darwaza could hurt the sentiments of Dalits? It tells you a lot about the priority of those who have been using or falsifying history to create a communal divide.”
Whichever way you look at it, Mandu does indeed tell you about the twists waiting to surprise those who relentlessly tap the past to drive a wedge between communities in the present.
Ajaz Ashraf is a journalist in Delhi. His novel, The Hour Before Dawn, has as its backdrop the demolition of the Babri Masjid. It is available in bookstores.
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Notified as Bhangi Darwaza all the way back in 1951, Vyapam whistleblower and social activist Dr Anand Rai found the name so insulting that he had his lawyer Abhinav P Dhanodkar dispatch legal notices on the Union government’s Secretary of Culture and two senior officials of Bhopal Circle of the Archaeological Survey of India.
Rai’s legal notice demands that the name Bhangi Darwaza should be denotified within 15 days, failing which he would file a public interest litigation with the Indore Bench of the Madhya Pradesh High Court. The legal notice, dispatched on Friday, November 13, should reach the three officers this week.
Sanctifying myths
Rai stumbled upon the ASI’s narrative of Bhangi Darwaza on his recent trip to the picturesque, historical site of Mandu. Not only did the stone tablet at the dilapidated gateway identify it as Bhangi Darwaza, it provided, in a few words, the historical backdrop for the name that is decidedly strange and mysterious.
The stone tablet says, “It is named after a Bhangi who is stated to have been offered as sacrifice on the completion of the Fort – the gateway, built in trabeate style, is probably pre-Islamic. Its roof has fallen down.” Trabeate is a style of architecture in which beams are placed across two vertical columns to support the weight of the superstructure. It was the style favoured in India before the advent of Muslim rulers, who brought in the arcuate form of construction in which arches support the weight.
Mandu pops up in a Sanskrit inscription dated 555 AD, and in later centuries was ruled by the Pratiharas and the Paramaras. It was attacked and invaded by Muslim rulers in the 13th century and was annexed to the Delhi Sultanate in the first decade of the 14th century. Like so many historical sites in India, Mandu has the imprint, and remains, of both pre-Islamic and Islamic periods.
The ASI’s description of Bhangi Darwaza stung Rai, not the least because he belongs to a backward caste. “I was offended, felt demeaned,” he said to me. “The description of Bhangi Darwaza would make a visitor think certain castes are no better than animals, fit to be offered as a sacrifice. I was horrified that the ASI, a government body, could show such insensitivity to a caste. The name is in violation of the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989. What do they mean by saying that a Bhangi was sacrificed here?”
It does seem the ASI has turned a possible folklore into a historical fact or evidence. For one, its own description of Bhangi Darwaza, rather vaguely, says, “It is stated…” Stated by whom and where? It does not tell us.
Behind the name
There was always a concrete reason behind naming a pre-modern structure when it was constructed, says Prof Sunil Kumar, who teaches history at Delhi University. “For instance,” he points out, “Kashmiri Gate was so called because a person had to pass through it to take the route to Kashmir. Similarly, Turkman Gate drew its name from the fact that in its vicinity there was a Turkish settlement.”
From this perspective, it is possible to imagine that there was perhaps a settlement of outcastes near what is called Bhangi Darwaza. Or perhaps the gateway was exclusively reserved for the outcastes to enter the fort.
In its time, though, the Darwaza couldn’t have been christened Bhangi. “This is because,” Prof Kumar argues, “the word Bhangi was coined in the 19th century.” The fort of Mandu is of much earlier vintage.
So is it then the case of affixing a 19th century word, post-Independence, on the fort built centuries ago?
Bhangi has come to denote a caste employed in cleaning latrines and engaged in sanitation. However, in his essay, Casting the ‘Sweeper’: Local politics of Sanskritisation, Caste and Labour, Nicolas Jaoul says Bhangi wasn’t a caste, but a nomenclature under which were clubbed members of different jatis who were employed as sanitation workers under the colonial rule.
They were earlier impoverished agricultural workers in villages, from where, for the purpose of earning a livelihood, they migrated to towns. Using caste networks, the civic authorities employed the erstwhile agricultural labourers for tasks deemed unclean. Jaoul writes, “The different jatis who provided labourers for such jobs as sweepers, garbage collectors and underground sewage workers, mostly for the municipalities and the factories, became categorised as ‘sweepers’”.
In an email response to this writer, Jaoul said, “It seems that in North India and places where Muslims ruled, the people performing the tasks of sweepers and (manual) scavengers used to be called "mehtars". This (term) seems to have been used predominantly during British rule. But Gandhi and the Hindu reformists like the Arya Samaj sought to Hinduise them and preferred the name "bhangi", the etymology of which means "discarded". Some people in these communities also mention that Bhangi refers to one who consumes bhang or hemp.”
The link between bhang or hemp and Bhangi is a later-day Brahminical spin, says Dr Shailesh Kumar Darokar, associate professor, Tata Institute of Social Sciences, who for more than a decade has been researching manual scavenging. The word Bhangi denoting untouchables doesn’t occur in any of the Vedic scriptures. He affirms what Jaoul says – that under Mughal rule those who were engaged as sweepers were called mehtar, which directly translates to “prince”.
Untouchable as the Broken Man
Darokar offers two theories on the origin of the word Bhangi. One, he says Bhangi was one who “broke or split the bhang or bamboo” to make bamboo products. Two, Bhangi was the term used to describe war captives, or those who had been defeated and broken. The war captives of yore were treated as untouchables. The idea of being defeated or broken was subsequently elaborated upon by Ambedkar to describe the Untouchable as the Broken Man.
The war captives were all soldiers in the king’s army which had been vanquished. This is perhaps why, argues Dr Darokar, many Dalit groups of today, settled in Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh and Gujarat, share the Kshatriya titles such as Solanki and Chauhan. He says Bhangi as a caste of manual scavengers was institutionalised under the colonial rule, much in the manner Jaoul has detailed.
Nevertheless, what these accounts quite clearly establish is that Bhangi as a caste, as is understood today, has a history of perhaps two centuries. It is possible the Darwaza in Mandu had a settlement of outcastes or it was reserved exclusively for their use. However, the person who notified it as Bhangi Darwaza chose a more recent term, with all its humiliating undertones, to describe them.
Considering the naming of Bhangi Darwaza seems a case of myth-making or treating a local tale as a historical fact, should the ASI accede to the demand of Rai? Prof Kumar thinks it is a complex issue. “The word nigger, now commonly accepted as derogatory, occurs in literature and songs. Should the word nigger be substituted or effaced?”
However, Darokar argues, “Yes, the name certainly requires a change. In a democratic country like India it is unacceptable.” Adds Jaoul, “Names are very important, especially for those who are constantly named by others, and whose names carry a stigma.”
For Rai, it is also about how contemporary India perceives certain aspects of the past to be more important than the rest. To drive home this point, he refers to the controversy surrounding the Bhojshala complex, located about 20 km away from Mandu. The Hindutva brigade claims Bhojshala had a temple which was destroyed to build a mosque.
Rai asks, “How come the RSS has been silent on Bhangi Darwaza? Why is it that the RSS never thought the name Bhangi Darwaza could hurt the sentiments of Dalits? It tells you a lot about the priority of those who have been using or falsifying history to create a communal divide.”
Whichever way you look at it, Mandu does indeed tell you about the twists waiting to surprise those who relentlessly tap the past to drive a wedge between communities in the present.
Ajaz Ashraf is a journalist in Delhi. His novel, The Hour Before Dawn, has as its backdrop the demolition of the Babri Masjid. It is available in bookstores.
