An epitaph for the bull-hull economy Studies suggest economic reforms are liberating landless Dalits, who once made up the bulk of farm labour, from the shackles of the feudal system *S Anand *<http://www.outlookbusiness.com/author.aspx?Authorid=374&authorname=S Anand> http://www.outlookbusiness.com/inner.aspx?articleid=1774&editionid=47&catgid=84&subcatgid=845 ------------------------------ [image: Printable Version] Printable Version<http://www.outlookbusiness.com/print.aspx?articleid=1774&editionid=47&catgid=84&subcatgid=845> [image: Bookmark] Bookmark Article <http://www.addthis.com/bookmark.php> [image: Email] Email Article <javascript:var Popupwin=window.open('send.aspx?articleid=1774&editionid=47&catgid=84&subcatgid=845','abc','top=10,toolbar=no,resize=no,menubar=no,scrollbars=no,width=600,height=190,maximize=no,minimize=yes')> *
I hold that these village republics have been the ruination of India. In this [village] Republic, there is no place for democracy, equality... The Republic is an Empire of the Hindus over the Untouchables. It is a kind of colonialism of the Hindus designed to exploit the Untouchables. The Untouchables have no rights. They are there only to wait, serve and submit. They are there to do or to die. —BR Ambedkar, 1948 * Some 25 years ago, two young Dalit youth sought to leave Paliya village from [image: Pushing ahead for livelihood] * Raod for freedom: *The opportunity to migrate has liberated Dalits from bondage Bilariaganj block in Azamgarh district, Uttar Pradesh. They were hoping to migrate. Before they could board the train from Azamgarh railway station, 20 km away, the Bhumihar landlords captured them, and dragged them back. There was no possibility of exit or escape. The Dalits had no right to be anything other than *halwahas*, bonded agricultural serfs, in the Village Republics that Ambedkar loathed and Gandhi celebrated. Dhenku Ram, about 70, recalls this story in the backdrop of the fact that more than 75 Dalit men from Paliya village have today gone *pardes*—to work in Mumbai, Delhi, Ahmedabad, Punjab—and send home remittances. Dhenku Ram remembers many things, without of course nostalgia, the prerogative of privileged castes: how Dalits, whenever they got to eat, savoured hard, dry, inch-thick rotis made of the chaff of ground wheat swallowed with some red-chilli chutney; how they separated the grain sticking to the dung of the oxen that hulled the wheat, and cleaned this grain to make the rare wholesome roti; how, when further deprived, Chamars survived on roti made of powdered mango kernels; how the closest they came to eating rice was when they collected the coarse mustard-sized off-white grain locally known as savan; how they left to work in the fields with only *gud-ka-ras* (jaggery water) for breakfast; how they bathed and washed clothes with mud-soaps. * Reforms at work? * And now, how things have changed. Most Dalit families in Paliya eat grains and pulses; they have three meals a day. In the last 20 years, no one has had to eat the old-style thick, hard bread. Prabhavati Devi, a 45-something woman, is amused when asked to make one for a team comprising Tej Singh, professor of Hindi at Delhi University and editor of *Apeksha*, a Dalit literary magazine; Aditya Nigam, Fellow at New Delhi's Centre for the Study of Developing Societies, and myself. In the first week of June, we were on a 'conducted tour' of Bilariaganj block in Azamgarh district, Purvanchal, led by Chandra Bhan Prasad, one of the architects of the 2001 Bhopal Document, which introduced the US-inspired concept of diversity in Indian public discourse. "Hunger and humiliation have disappeared from the lives of Dalits, at least in fertile Purvanchal, where Dalits have ceased to be *halwahas *and suppliers of free labour. If they are not sharecroppers, they have migrated to cities as drivers, carpenters, painters, masons and small technicians. Only the women and graduates, self-conscious about doing blue-collar jobs, stay behind," says Prasad, who has been passionately making a case for Dalit capitalism, and pleading with the Indian state and industry to emulate the American model of supplier and recruitment diversity. Prasad believes that the neoliberal economic reforms unleashed in 1990-91 have liberated the landless Dalits, who once formed the bulk of agricultural labourers, from the hold of a feudal system. The men who work in cities now send home remittances, which help their families clear debts, wear nice clothes and footwear, build *pucca* houses. Dalit families also spend a "disposable income" of at least Rs 30-35 per day on vegetables, fruits, shampoos, soaps, oil and suchlike, not counting the essential grains and pulses. A similar story unfolds in the neighbouring Kandrapur village, where more than 60 Dalit families of the 150 have at least one male member working in a city. This remittance-driven economic model also enables Dalits to exhibit their social standing. "In Dalit marriages, the groom rides at least a Maruti Esteem accompanied by a retinue of jeeps and cars. We serve VIP-style *chena * (sweets made from milk) and not just jaggery balls," says Prabhavati. * Towards equality * However, Dalits are not always and necessarily migrating. Dasarath Paswan opened a tea and snacks shop in 2003 at Chowk Pakwainar on the Azamgarh-Baliya state highway. Among the 20-odd roadside teashops on a 300-metre stretch, his is the most frequented. All the locals who patronise the shop know that Dasarath is a Paswan. This would be unthinkable in most of Tamil Nadu, where even a Dalit panchayat president cannot sit in a teashop. Anil Kumar Chaubey, a local Brahmin, was subjected to ridicule for being one of the first to have tea at Paswan's, but soon the rest of the village joined in. The resurgence of Mayawati and the BSP has been not just on a social base, but also an economic base. All this and much more is being documented by Prasad, who heads a study, currently underway, funded by the Centre for the Advanced Study of India (CASI), University of Pennsylvania. In Khurda in western UP and Azamgarh in eastern UP, 20,000 Dalit households are being asked 80 questions by researchers. Questions that would have never occurred to Census commissioners. Who lifts the dead animals of non-Dalits in the village? Do you attend non-Dalit marriages in the village? Does the family have a pressure cooker? Does the family have chairs? Do your family members use shampoo? One of the most demonstrable and visible aspects of change has been the disappearance of the ox-driven plough, the symbol of Indian farming. From Thakurs to Brahmins, Yadavs to Bhumihars and Dalits, we did not come across one landholder in Azamgarh who used bullocks. In fact, Dalits have almost entirely stopped working as farm hands. (The farm crisis today also owes to this non-availability of cheap Dalit labour.) Today, tractors and harvesters are owned/shared/rented. [image: Prabhavati Devi] *Prabhavati Devi, 45, grew up on roti** **made of the chaff of ground wheat. The staple food for generations of Dalits has given way to grains and pulses—the fruits of economic progress* Bashisht, 45, a Dalit in Kandrapur who owns two bighas of land, purchased a tractor for Rs 3.6 lakh in 2002 using his government-employed father's retirement benefits. Today, he plies his tractor on land owned by non-Dalits. Non-Dalits too ply their tractors on Dalit-owned fields. Says Ramphal Chamar, 65, of Paliya: "A Thakur, Bhumihar or Brahmin would never touch a plough. It would destroy their identity. But today, a Thakur ploughs a Dalit's land with a tractor for a fee. I did not hope to see this in my lifetime." Prasad reads such undermining of the occupational basis of caste as a perfect instance of the market and mechanisation liberating both the rural non-Dalit and the rural Dalit from the stranglehold of caste. "The market humanises," claims Prasad. This reversal of roles is remarkable, says Nigam, pointing out that such mechanisation is both the cause for and the result of a classic case of farm labour shortage. "The decline of serfdom in England, even before the rise of early capitalism, coincided with the emergence of trading and mercantile towns. The opening up of alternative avenues has similarly unleashed fresh opportunities and liberated Dalits from antiquated forms of bondage." Ramphal Chamar, who belonged to a family that disposed dead cattle, repeatedly uses the word *khulta* to indicate that many things have opened up in the village. After all, Brahmins and Thakurs can no longer call the likes of Ramphal by the right of might to dispose of dead cattle. Says Ramashray Mishra, a Brahmin who continues to dispense services as a priest in Khatecha village: "Today, when a cow or buffalo dies, we rent a tractor, haul the carcass and bury it in the field. All by ourselves." * Cure or side effects? * While Prasad reads the new consumerism among the rural Dalits as a sign of their economic power, the 50-paise shampoo and oil sachets that the rural Dalits and the urban underclass consume are invariably the dregs of the market economy. The market, in the garb of a social leveller, gives us the illusion of equality. It appears everyone who has disposable income can enjoy the goodies; this technique of capture of rural and small-town markets epitomised by the Brylcreem gel ad featuring MS Dhoni with the punchline 'Style is for everyone'. While the urban elite, who can afford to indulge the growing fad of organic slow-food, would now happily pay a premium price for the hard bread (appreciating its high-fibre content) that Dalits were forced to eat owing to denial and deprivation, the rural Dalits are forced into the maida economy of Maggi (which kirana stores in Purvanchal's villages now sell). As the new (Dalit) consumers gain dignity by consuming pesticide-heavy milled, polished, long-grained rice, the urban rich embrace the 'healthy alternative' of organic coarse-grained hand-pounded brown rice. It is the same logic that peddles American junk food (a McDonald burger) as 'I'm loving it' food to unsuspecting aspirational classes in India. While the urban elite look to buy farmhouses off cities, the rural migrants cling to the edges of the city and are forced to relish crumbs as crisps. Nigam, therefore, cautions us from drawing a straight correlation between rural consumerism and the desirable changes that have been effected in the nature of land-labour relations. "There's a need to distinguish between capitalism and the spirit of market/entrepreneurship and commerce that someone like Paswan embodies. The latter, where the logic is not one of accumulation, has always existed." While the social transformation is indeed worth celebrating—which we did with some toddy and roast pork in Prasad's village Bhadawn—it is not clear if all this can be attributed as a direct or intended consequence of neoliberal reforms. Pointing out that the changes perceived in eastern UP have certainly not manifested in Tamil Nadu, D Ravikumar, an MLA with Dalit Panthers, says: "These social changes are like the side-effects of a pill. It is indeed heartening to see the caste system loosen its grip. But we cannot say that free market liberates. It is not designed to do so. This is like an earthquake that also results in the collapse of the walls of a prison, because of which the prisoners manage to escape." *The writer is the publisher of the imprint Navayana* -- Ranjit --~--~---------~--~----~------------~-------~--~----~ You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Green Youth Movement" group. To post to this group, send email to [email protected] To unsubscribe from this group, send email to [EMAIL PROTECTED] For more options, visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/greenyouth?hl=en-GB -~----------~----~----~----~------~----~------~--~---
