Book excerpt: How the global story of caste activism began in Marathwada

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Following in this tradition, Marathwada Dalits carved out for themselves a political space, whose potential for mobilization and receptivity to radical ideas were noticed by B.R. Ambedkar. Issues around land, education and sovereignty were all highly politicized in Marathwada. Those who rejected their oppression as lower castes looked for ways of fighting back. To them, Ambedkar-led politics seemed like a promising avenue. In particular, Mahars (a caste of Dalits) in my region gave their allegiance to Ambedkar. Though Ambedkar was yet to visit them, they had heard about him and his voluminous writings. He came from their caste-community and had a national as well as international appeal. Dalit leaders from the wider Telugu-, Marathi- and Kannada-speaking regions, such as Bhagya Reddy Varma, B.S. Venkat Rao and B. Shyam Sundar, eventually joined Ambedkar and worked under his leadership.

My district and region were one of many centres of radical politics. Nanded’s representative to India’s independent parliament in 1957 belonged to a crop of radical Dalit politicians: Harihar Rao Sonule was our statement of our collective belief in constitutional promise. He was one of the early batch of Dalit MPs from the All India Scheduled Caste Federation who were intent on gaining rights for Dalits in the newly independent country.

In our house in Janta Colony, Ambedkar Nagar, Nanded, my father listened to the morning Marathi news on DD Sahyadri—a government-owned satellite TV station. We had a black-and-white 14-inch television set made by a Videocon company. Each morning the same ritual was followed as I prepared for school. One day in 1997 my father held me and made me watch the TV: Kofi Annan was being elected as the secretary general of the United Nations Organization. My father called it Oono—UNO. He wanted me to register that a Black man had ascended to the topmost position of an inter-governmental body, never mind that Annan originally came from the crop of Ghanaian elites. My father perhaps wanted me to see that the UN and other international bodies could not only be accessible to native elites the world over, but could be a space even of Dalit politics. When the Taliban blew up statues of the Buddha, he and his associates protested by petitioning the UN—in a letter written in Marathi. Years later, when I was an intern at the UN’s human rights office in Geneva, I was dismayed by its sheer inability to provide nonpolitical solutions to issues of the day….

In the United States, the Dalit cause was taken up by the coordinated efforts of professional class Dalits who had settled there. Their activism began with protests against atrocities within India and led to attempts to hold the Indian state accountable by placing the issue of caste on the agendas of US political and policy circles. Later, activists like Laxmi Berwa and Yogesh Varhade took the UN route that their predecessors like B.R. Ambedkar, N. Rajbhoj and Bhagwan Das had followed.

Solidarity represents one way of connecting the Dalit movement with a larger cause. But the desire for international solidarity did not significantly influence the activities of Dalits in India. Their work evolved in response to the radical shifts of Cold War-era politics. The movement was split between left and right. Some aligned with a nativist theory of liberation, while others drew on the left’s internationalism.

One faction was led by Namdeo Dhasal, the well-known leftist Panther. Left-wing savarna scholars wrote extensively about Dhasal and promoted his image. Raja Dhale, on the other hand, who led the other faction, was primarily known to circles of academics and writers because of his distance from leftist politics. Later he became so disillusioned with the Panthers’ leadership that he left and pursued a career in a political party run by Ambedkar’s grandson, only to end up dismayed by it.

A vast number of Dalit Mahars who identified with Ambedkar and Buddhism embraced Dhale. My father was an associate of his in Nanded and was particularly interested in Dhale’s literary activities. They remained friends. My name Surudhay—kindhearted—was given me by Dhale. However, because it was often mispronounced, I shortened the name to Suraj. When I was a student leader in Nanded, I invited Dhale to visit the university and deliver a lecture. He came and the old cadres packed the hall. He spoke but it wasn’t an impressive speech. When my father passed away, Dhale paid a visit to my home. I was in South Africa; I rang him to thank him for the visit. In his usual way, Dhale said that he had not done anything extraordinary. “Milind was my associate, and I paid a visit" was his response.

Dhale was known to call a spade a spade. He restricted himself to the activism of literature. He read many books. Whenever my father visited Mumbai, he would seek an audience with Dhale. I recall once we spent an entire day in Vikhroli, the area where Dhale lived. Years later when I was studying to become a scholar, I sought an audience with Dhale. He refused. He said that, like me, he had little time available; it was better that we should not impose ourselves on each other’s time. His response made me feel he had become rude and bitter as an old man. A few years later when I spent about eight months in India, I realized why he had spoken in this way. In India, a meeting can easily last several hours. Dhale was also in a hurry to finish what he was writing—as he indicated to me.

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Over the years, as my name became known in academic and literary circles, reports about me must have come to the attention of Dhale, for he commented to my cousin Nitin that “Suraj has now become an important person". When Dhale died, the national media reached out to me to write an obituary. I was on the way to deliver a series of talks in Kolhapur. But I asked people to send me some books on Dhale and some of his original writings. I wrote the article on my journey from Aurangabad to Kolhapur, two sites driven by Ambedkar’s politics. Dhale was widely read. He was among the first Dalits in the movement to actively pursue Black literature. In his young days, he dabbled in translating Black poets into Marathi. There are many such anecdotes about my father—who was my primary interlocutor to this history—and Dhale that touch my thinking and practice.

The global story of caste or the story of global castes thus begins with my experience of growing up as a Dalit. It’s also a story of Marathwada, India, which had the audacity to connect with the larger world. That is why the Dalit-Black nexus, which started as an investigation of literature and experience in Marathwada, became a precursor to the formation of an active political solidarity.

Excerpted from ‘Caste: A Global Story’ with permission from Penguin Random House India. The book will be available around 30 June.