Fifty one years after Bhim Rao Ambedkar's death, thousands of people streamed into Mumbai on Sunday to pay their annual homage to him at his house in Dadar East and along the sea, at Chaityabhoomi, where he was cremated.
Dalits observe two memorial days for Ambedkar. These are April 14, his birthday, and December 6, the day he was cremated. Mumbai is one of the twin axes of pilgrimage for Dalits in India, and particularly for those in Maharashtra. The other major spot is Nagpur, which has crowds paralleling those in Mumbai on every April 14.
Many conversations among the crowds on Sunday focussed on the man himself, his phenomenal struggle for equal rights for oppressed people in India and his achievement in guiding the Indian Constitution to completion. But people also strayed into other topics – the situation of Dalits today in a country when there continue to be casual acts of discrimination and vicious violence for violating Brahminical norms.
A single-file line stretched from the entrance of Chaityabhoomi in Dadar to Worli, more than two kilometres away. People in the queue waited for up to eight hours to reach the memorial. Some had come the previous night so as to complete their darshan in time.
Others gave up and contented themselves with watching the spectacle from outside. And there was plenty to entertain. Rows upon rows of stalls lined pavements leading up to Chaityabhoomi. Their vendors, from across Maharashtra, sold Marathi translations of books by Ambedkar, Phule and other Dalit scholars, busts, key chains, posters, pens, caps, photographs. Folk musicians and street theatre performers drew small crowds around them.
Coming together
“Whatever work and education we have today is because of Babasaheb,” said Suryakant Kamble, 23, who works in Pune in a technical job. “This is also a good time for our people to come and discuss to see where we need to progress. We get strength again in this.”
Kamble sees a great need for meeting others of similar mind now more than ever.
“The Modi government runs with all Brahmin ministers who all work according to the RSS [Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh],” Kamble said. “Babasaheb’s Constitution is not running in this country anymore because of them.”
The RSS, he added, was playing not just with the sentiments of upper caste people, but also with the older and illiterate members of his own caste.
“Our parents look to Hindu gods and the RSS takes advantage of that,” he said. “They tell them not to do this or that, don’t go in here, work according to your caste. And they believe it.”
His uncle in his village in Ahmednagar recently almost came to blows with upper caste people after they confronted him for buying a chair and passing with it in front of the village temple.
“My uncle is the type to fight,” said Kamble. “So he stood there and shouted and not one person dared to lay a finger on him. But even our own people were telling him he should not have behaved that way. That is the problem. We are ourselves not united.”
Facing caste today
Rajesh Kadam, 31, might understand what Kamble was saying. Kadam is a chartered accountant who has lived his entire life in the Mumbai neighbourhood of Mulund, though his extended family is from Kankavli in coastal Maharashtra. Until a few years ago, Kadam said, even he used to worship Hindu gods and his family made Ganpatis for their home every Ganesh Chaturthi.
Like many “upper” caste Indians, Kadam was aware of his caste identity but never felt it to be a reason for shame. Then in 2006, he tried to enter a Jain temple but was refused admission.
A few years later, he mentioned to a colleague at his chartered accountant firm over lunch that he was a “Jai Bhim wala”. The colleague immediately got up, ran into the next room and began to laugh.
“I was sitting there and crying and he went on laughing and saying I should have told him earlier,” Kadam said. “That is when I realised that there is too much superstition and blind faith in Hinduism and moved to Buddhism.”
Towards the future
“There is no future for anyone as long as the four castes exist,” added BG Kamble, a retired district official from Yavatmal. “They will not allow us to exist. But even though things are bad now, the reason you are able to be hold this pen is because of people like Babasaheb and Savitribai Phule. If the situation now was like it was in Babasaheb’s time, we would not be able to bear it.”
“These open caste walas get angry because they think we get too many subsidies,” Kadam said. “Even my wife who has a PhD in organic chemistry is from the open caste and gets angry saying people who don’t deserve positions get it. But all this is because even today open caste people think we are beneath them.”
Surendra Shinde, Kamble’s friend from the same village who works with him in Pune, pointed to what he felt was the reason for continued atrocities.
“They say that India’s youth will be the most by 2020,” Shinde said. “But though there are more young people, none of us are getting good work. As long as people are idle and have the time to think about these things, there will be more atrocities against us.”
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Dalits observe two memorial days for Ambedkar. These are April 14, his birthday, and December 6, the day he was cremated. Mumbai is one of the twin axes of pilgrimage for Dalits in India, and particularly for those in Maharashtra. The other major spot is Nagpur, which has crowds paralleling those in Mumbai on every April 14.
Many conversations among the crowds on Sunday focussed on the man himself, his phenomenal struggle for equal rights for oppressed people in India and his achievement in guiding the Indian Constitution to completion. But people also strayed into other topics – the situation of Dalits today in a country when there continue to be casual acts of discrimination and vicious violence for violating Brahminical norms.
A single-file line stretched from the entrance of Chaityabhoomi in Dadar to Worli, more than two kilometres away. People in the queue waited for up to eight hours to reach the memorial. Some had come the previous night so as to complete their darshan in time.
Others gave up and contented themselves with watching the spectacle from outside. And there was plenty to entertain. Rows upon rows of stalls lined pavements leading up to Chaityabhoomi. Their vendors, from across Maharashtra, sold Marathi translations of books by Ambedkar, Phule and other Dalit scholars, busts, key chains, posters, pens, caps, photographs. Folk musicians and street theatre performers drew small crowds around them.
Coming together
“Whatever work and education we have today is because of Babasaheb,” said Suryakant Kamble, 23, who works in Pune in a technical job. “This is also a good time for our people to come and discuss to see where we need to progress. We get strength again in this.”
Kamble sees a great need for meeting others of similar mind now more than ever.
“The Modi government runs with all Brahmin ministers who all work according to the RSS [Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh],” Kamble said. “Babasaheb’s Constitution is not running in this country anymore because of them.”
The RSS, he added, was playing not just with the sentiments of upper caste people, but also with the older and illiterate members of his own caste.
“Our parents look to Hindu gods and the RSS takes advantage of that,” he said. “They tell them not to do this or that, don’t go in here, work according to your caste. And they believe it.”
His uncle in his village in Ahmednagar recently almost came to blows with upper caste people after they confronted him for buying a chair and passing with it in front of the village temple.
“My uncle is the type to fight,” said Kamble. “So he stood there and shouted and not one person dared to lay a finger on him. But even our own people were telling him he should not have behaved that way. That is the problem. We are ourselves not united.”
Facing caste today
Rajesh Kadam, 31, might understand what Kamble was saying. Kadam is a chartered accountant who has lived his entire life in the Mumbai neighbourhood of Mulund, though his extended family is from Kankavli in coastal Maharashtra. Until a few years ago, Kadam said, even he used to worship Hindu gods and his family made Ganpatis for their home every Ganesh Chaturthi.
Like many “upper” caste Indians, Kadam was aware of his caste identity but never felt it to be a reason for shame. Then in 2006, he tried to enter a Jain temple but was refused admission.
A few years later, he mentioned to a colleague at his chartered accountant firm over lunch that he was a “Jai Bhim wala”. The colleague immediately got up, ran into the next room and began to laugh.
“I was sitting there and crying and he went on laughing and saying I should have told him earlier,” Kadam said. “That is when I realised that there is too much superstition and blind faith in Hinduism and moved to Buddhism.”
Towards the future
“There is no future for anyone as long as the four castes exist,” added BG Kamble, a retired district official from Yavatmal. “They will not allow us to exist. But even though things are bad now, the reason you are able to be hold this pen is because of people like Babasaheb and Savitribai Phule. If the situation now was like it was in Babasaheb’s time, we would not be able to bear it.”
“These open caste walas get angry because they think we get too many subsidies,” Kadam said. “Even my wife who has a PhD in organic chemistry is from the open caste and gets angry saying people who don’t deserve positions get it. But all this is because even today open caste people think we are beneath them.”
Surendra Shinde, Kamble’s friend from the same village who works with him in Pune, pointed to what he felt was the reason for continued atrocities.
“They say that India’s youth will be the most by 2020,” Shinde said. “But though there are more young people, none of us are getting good work. As long as people are idle and have the time to think about these things, there will be more atrocities against us.”