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Here are some of the reminiscences drawn by Dr. Ambedkar in his own handwriting. The MSS traced in the collection of the People's Education Society were published by the society as a booklet on 19th March 1990— ed.
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Foreigners of course know of the existence of untouchability. But not being next door to it, so to
say, they are unable to realise how oppressive it is in its actuality. It is
difficult for them to understand how it is possible for a few untouchables to
live on the edge of a village consisting of a large number of Hindus, go
through the village daily to free it from the most disagreeable of its filth
and to carry the errands of all the sundry, collect food at the doors of the
Hindus, buy spices and oil at the shops of the Hindu Bania
from a distance, regard the village in every way as their home, and yet never
touch nor be touched by any one belonging to the village. The problem is how
best to give an idea of the way the untouchables are treated by the caste
Hindus. A general description or a record of cases of the treatment accorded to
them are the two methods by which this purpose could be achieved. I have felt
that the latter would be more effective than the former. In choosing these
illustrations I have drawn partly upon my experience and partly upon the
experience of others. I begin with events that have happened to me in my own
life.
Our family came originally from Dapoli
Taluka of the Ratnagiri District
of the Bombay Presidency. From the very commencement of the rule of the East
India Company my fore-fathers had left their hereditary occupation for service
in the Army of the Company. My father also followed the family tradition and
sought service in the Army. He rose to the rank of an officer and was a Subhedar when he retired. On his retirement my father
took the family to Dapoli with a view to settling down there. But for some
reasons my father changed his mind. The family left Dapoli for Satara where we lived till 1904. The first incident
which I am recording as well as I can remember, occurred in about 1901 when we
were at Satara. My mother was then dead. My father was away on service as a
cashier at a place called Goregaon in Khatav Taluka in the
Satara District, where the Government of Bombay had started the work of
excavating a Tank for giving employment to famine stricken people who were
dying by thousands. When my father went to Goregaon he left me, my brother who
was older than my self and two sons of my eldest sister who was dead, in charge
of my aunt and some kind neighbours. My aunt was the kindest soul I know, but
she was of no help to us. She was somewhat of a dwarf and had some trouble with
her legs, which made it very difficult for her to move about without the aid of
somebody. Often times she had to be lifted. I had sisters. They were married
and were away living with their families. Cooking our food became a problem
with us especially as our aunty could not on
account of her helplessness, manage the job. We four children went to school
and we also cooked our food. We could not prepare bread. So we lived on Pulav which we found to be the easiest dish to
prepare, requiring nothing more than mixing rice and mutton.
Being a cashier my father could not leave his station to
come to Satara to see us, therefore he wrote to us to come to Goregaon and
spend our summer vacation with him. We children
were thoroughly excited over the prospect especially as none of us had up to
that time seen a railway train.
Great preparations were made. New shirts of English
make, bright beje welled caps, new shoes, new silk-bordered dhoties were
ordered for the journey. My father had given us all particulars regarding our
journey and had told us to inform him on which day we were starting so that he
would send his peon to the Railway Station to meet us and to take us to Goregaon. According to this arrangement myself, my
brother and one of my sister's sons left Satara,
our aunt remaining in charge of our neighbours who promised to look after her.
The Railway Station was 10 miles distant from our
place and a tonga (a one-horse
carriage) was engaged to take us to the Station. We were dressed in the new
clothing specially made for the occasion and we left our home full of joy but
amidst the cries of my aunt who was almost prostrate with grief at our parting.
When we reached the station my brother bought tickets
and gave me and my sister's son two annas each as pocket money to be spent at
our pleasure. We at once began our career of riotous living and .each ordered a bottle of lemonade at the start. After
a short while the train whistled in and we boarded
it as quickly as we could for fear of being left behind. We were told to
detrain at Masur, the nearest railway station for
Goregaon.
The train arrived at Masur at about 5 in the evening and
we got down with our luggage. In a few minutes all the passengers who had got
down from the train had gone away to their destination. We four children
remained on the platform looking out for my father or his servant whom he had
promised to send. Long did we wait but no one turned up. An hour elapsed and
the station-master came to enquire. He asked us for
our tickets. We showed them to him. He asked us why we tarried., We told him that we were bound for Goregaon and
that we were waiting for father or his servant to come but that neither had
turned up and that we did not know how to reach Goregaon. We were well dressed
children. From our dress or talk no one could make out that we were children of
the untouchables. Indeed the station-master was quite sure we were Brahmin
children and was extremely touched at the plight in which he found us. As is
usual among the Hindus the staion-master asked us
who we were. Without a moment's thought I blurted
out that we were Mahars. (Mahar
is one of the communities which are treated as untouchables in the Bombay
Presidency). He was stunned. His face underwent a sudden change. We could see
that he was overpowered by a strange feeling of repulsion. As soon as he heard
my reply he went away to his room and we stood where we were. Fifteen to twenty
minutes elapsed; the sun was almost setting. The father had not turned up nor had he sent his servant, and now the
station-master had also left us. We were quite bewildered and-the joy and
happiness which we felt at the beginning of the journey gave way to the feeling
of extreme sadness.
After half an hour the station-master returned and asked
us what we proposed to do. We said that if we could get a bullock-cart on hire
we would go to Goregaon and if it was not very far
we would like to start straightway. There were many bullock-carts plying for
hire. But my reply to the station-master that we were Mahars
had gone round among the cartmen and not one of
them was prepared to suffer being polluted and to demean himself carrying
passengers of the untouchable classes. We were prepared to pay double the fare
but we found that money did not work. The station-master who was negotiating on
our behalf stood silent not knowing what to do. Suddenly a thought seemed to have entered his head and
he asked us, " Can you drive the cart ? " Feeling that he
was finding out a solution of our difficulty we shouted, " Yes, we can ".
With that answer he went and proposed on our behalf that we were to pay the cartman double the fare and drive the cart and that he
should walk on foot along with the cart on our journey. One cartman agreed as
it gave him an opportunity to earn his fare and also saved him from being
polluted.
It was about 6.30 p.m. when we were ready to start. But
we were anxious not to leave the station until we were assured that we would
reach Goregaon before it was dark. We therefore questioned the cartman as to
the distance and the time he would take to reach Goregaon. He assured us that
it would be not more than 3 hours. Believing in his
word, we put our luggage in the cart, thanked the station-master and got into
the cart. One of us took the reins and the cart started with the man walking by
our side.
Not very far from the station there flowed a river. It
was quite dry except at places where there were small pools of water. The owner
of the cart proposed that we should halt there and have our meal as we might
not get water on our way. We agreed. He asked us to
give a part of his fare to enable him to go to the village and have his meal.
My brother gave him some money and he left promising to return soon. We were very hungry and were glad to have had
an opportunity to have a bite. My aunty had pressed
our neighbours' women folk into service and had got
some nice preparation for us to take on our way. We opened tiffin basket and
started eating. We needed water to wash things down. One of us went to the pool
of water in the river basin nearby. But the water really was no water. It was
thick with mud and urine and excreta of the cows and buffaloes and other cattle
who went to the pool for drinking. In fact that water was not intended for
human use. At any rate the stink of the water was so strong we could not drink
it. We had therefore to close our meal before we were satisfied and wait for
the arrival of the cartman. He did not come for a
long time and all that we could do was to look for him in all directions.
Ultimately he came and we started on our journey.
For some four or five miles we drove the cart and he walked on foot. Then he suddenly
jumped into the cart and took the reins from our hand. We thought this to be
rather a strange conduct on the part of a man who had refused to let the cart
on hire for fear of pollution to have set aside all his religious scruples and
to have consented to sit with us in the same cart but we dared not ask him any
questions on the point. We were anxious to reach Goregaon
our destination as quickly as possible. And for sometime we were interested in
the movement of the cart only. But soon there was darkness all around us. There
were no street lights to relieve the darkness. There were no men or women or
even cattle passing by to make us feel that we were in their midst. We became
fearful of the loneliness which surrounded us. Our anxiety was growing. We
mustered all the courage we possessed. We had travelled far from Masur. It was more than three hours. But there was no
sign of Goregaon. There arose a strange thought within us. We suspected that
the cartman intended treachery and that he was taking us to some lonely spot to
kill us. We had lot of gold ornaments on us and that helped to strengthen our
suspicion. We started asking him how far Goregaon
was, why we were so late in reaching it. He kept on saying, " It is not very far, we shall soon reach it ". It was about 10.00 at night when finding that
there was no trace of Goregaon we children started crying and abusing the cartman. Our lamentations and wailings
continued for long. The cartman made no reply. Suddenly we saw a light burning
at some distance. The cartman said, " Do you
see that light ? That is a light of the
toll-collector. We will rest there for the night. "
We felt some relief and stopped crying. The light was distant, but we could
never seem to reach it. It took us two hours to reach the toll-collector's hut.
The interval increased our anxiety and we kept on asking the cartman all sorts
of questions, as to why there was delay in reaching the place, whether we were
going on the same road, etc.
Ultimately by mid-night the cart reached the toll-collector's
hut. It was situated at the foot of a hill but on the other side of the hill.
When we arrived we saw a large number of bullock-carts there all resting for
the night. We were extremely hungry and wanted very much to eat. But again
there was the question of water. So we asked our driver whether it was possible
to get water. He warned us that the toll-collector
was a Hindu and that there was no possibility of our getting water if we spoke
the truth and said that we were Mahars. He said, " Say you are Mohammedans and try your luck ". On his advice I went to the toll-collector's
hut and asked him if he would give us some water. "
Who are you ? ",
he inquired. I replied that we were Musalmans. I
conversed with him in Urdu which I knew very well so as to leave no doubt that
I was a real Musalman. But the trick did not work
and his reply was very curt. "Who has kept water for you ? There is water on the hill, if you want to go and
get it, I have none. " With this he dismissed
me. I returned to the cart and conveyed to my
brother his reply I don’t know what my brother felt. All that he did was to tell
us to lie down.
The bullocks had been unyoked and the cart was placed
sloping down on the ground. We spread our beds on the bottom planks inside the
cart, and laid down our bodies to rest. Now that we had
come to a place of safety we did not mind what happened. But our minds
could not help turning to the latest event. There was plenty of food with us.
There was hunger burning within us ; with all this we were to sleep without food; that was because we could get no water and we could
get no water because we were untouchables. Such was the last thought that
entered our mind. I said, we had come to a place of safety. Evidently my elder
brother had his misgivings. He said it was not wise for all four of us to go to
sleep. Anything might happen. He suggested that at one time two should sleep
and two should keep watch. So we spent the night at the foot of that hill.
Early at 5 in the morning
our cartman came and suggested that we should start
for Goregaon. We flatly refused. We told him that
we would not move until 8 O'clock. We did not want to take any chance. He said
nothing. So we left at 8 and reached Goregaon at II. My father was surprised to
see us and said that he had received no intimation of our coming. We protested
that we had given intimation. He denied the fact. Subsequently it was
discovered that the fault was of my father's servant. He had received our
letter but failed to give it to my father.
This incident has a very important place in my life. I
was a boy of nine when it happened. But it has left an indelible impression on my mind. Before this incident occurred, I knew that I was an untouchable and that
untouchables were subjected to certain indignities and discriminations. For
instance, I knew that in the school I could not sit in the midst of my class
students according to my rank but that I was to sit in a corner by myself. I
knew that in the school I was to have a separate piece of gunny cloth for me to
squat on in the class room and the servant employed to clean the school would
not touch the gunny cloth used by me. I was required
to carry the gunny cloth home in the evening and bring it back the next day.
While in the school I knew that children of the touchable
classes, when they felt thirsty, could go out to the water tap, open it and
quench their thirst. All that was necessary was the permission of the teacher.
But my position was separate. I could not touch the tap and unless it was
opened for it by a touchable person, it was not possible for me to quench my
thirst. In my case the permission of the teacher was not enough. The presence
of the school peon was necessary, for, he was the
only person whom the class teacher could use for such a purpose. If the peon
was not available I had to go without water. The situation can be summed up in
the statement—no peon, no water. At home I knew that the work of washing
clothes was done by my sisters. Not that there were no washermen in Satara. Not that we could not afford to pay the
washermen. Washing was done by my sisters because we were untouchables and no
washerman would wash the clothes of an untouchable. The work of cutting the
hair or shaving the boys including my self was done by our elder sister who had
become quite an expert barber by practising the art on us, not that there were
no barbers in Satara, not that we could not afford to pay the barber. The work
of shaving and hair cutting was done by my sister because we were untouchables
and no barber would consent to shave an untouchable. All this I knew. But this
incident gave me a shock such as I never received before, and it made me think
about untouchability which, before this incident
happened, was with me a matter of course as it is
with many touchables as well as the untouchables.
In 1916 I returned to India.
I had been sent to America by His Highness the Maharaja of Baroda for higher education. I studied at Columbia
University in New York from 1913 to 1917. In 1917 I came to London and joined
the post-graduate department of the School of Economics of the University of
London, lnl918 I was
obliged to return to India without completing my studies. As I was educated by
the Baroda State I was bound to serve the State. Accordingly on my arrival I straightway
went to Baroda. The reasons why I left Baroda
service are quite irrelevant to my present purpose. I
do not therefore wish to enter into them. I am only concerned with my social
experiences in Baroda and I will confine myself to describing them.
My five years of stay in Europe and America had
completely wiped out of my mind any consciousness that I was an untouchable and
that an untouchable whenever he went in India was a problem to himself and to others.
But when I came out of the station my mind was considerably disturbed by a
question, " Where to go ? Who will take me ? " I felt deeply agitated. Hindu hotels, called Vishis, I knew, there were. They would not take me.
The only way of seeking accommodation therein was by impersonation. But I was
not prepared for it because I could well anticipate
the dire consequences which were sure to follow if my identity was discovered
as it was sure to be. I had friends in Baroda who had come to America for study.
" Would they welcome me if I went ? " I could not
assure myself. They may feel embarrassed by admitting an untouchable in their
household. I stood under the roof of the station for sometime thinking, where
to go, what to do. It then struck me to enquire if there was any place in the
camp. All passengers had by this time gone. I alone was left. Some hackney
drivers who had failed to pick up any traffic were watching and waiting for me.
I called one of them and asked him if he knew if there was a hotel in the camp.
He said that there was a Parsi inn and that they
took paying guests. Hearing that it was an inn maintained by the Parsis my heart was gladdened. The Parsis are followers of the Zoroastrian
religion. There was no fear of my being treated by them as an untouchable
because their religion does not recognise untouchability.
With a heart glad with hope and a mind free from fear I put my luggage in a
hackney carriage and asked the driver to drive me to Parsi
inn in the camp.
The inn was a two storied building on the ground floor
of which lived an old Parsi with his family. He was a caretaker and supplied
food to tourists who came there to stay. The carriage arrived
and the Parsi caretaker showed me upstairs. I went up while the carriage driver
brought up my luggage. I paid him and he went away. I felt happy that after all
I had solved my problem of finding a sojourn. I was
undressing as I wanted to be at ease. In the meantime the caretaker came with a
book in his hand. Seeing as he could well see from my half undressed state that
I had no Sadra and Kasti,
the two things which prove that one is a Parsi, in a sharp tone he asked me,
who I was. Not knowing that this inn was maintained by the Parsi community for
the use of Parsis only, I told him that I was a Hindu. He was shocked, and told
me that I could not stay in the inn. I was thoroughly shocked by his answer and
was cold all over. The question returned again where to go ? Composing myself I told him that though a Hindu I
had no objection to staying there if he had no objection. He replied, " How can you ? I
have to maintain a register of all those who stay here in the inn. " I saw his difficulty. I said I could assume a
Parsi name for the purpose of entering it in the register. " Why do you object if I do not object, you will
not lose, you will earn something if I stay here."
I could see that he was inclined favourably. Evidently he had had no tourist
for a long time and he did not like to forego the opportunity of making a
little money. He agreed on condition that I pay him a rupee and a half per day for board and lodging and entered
myself as a Parsi in his register. He went downstairs and I heaved a sigh of
relief. The problem was solved and I felt very happy. But alas ! I did not then know how short was to be this
happiness. But before I describe the tragic end of my stay in this inn I must
describe how I passed my time during the short period I lived therein.
The inn on the first floor had a small bedroom and
adjoining it was one small bathroom with a water tap in it. The rest was one
big hall. At the time of my stay the big hall was filled up with all sorts of
rubbish, planks, benches, broken chairs, etc. In the midst of the surroundings
I lived a single solitary individual. The caretaker came up in the morning with a cup of tea. He came again at about 9.30
with my breakfast or morning meal. A third time he came up at about 8.30 in the
evening with my dinner. The caretaker came up only when he could not avoid it
and on these occasions he never stayed to talk to me. The day was spent
somehow.
I was appointed a probationer in the Accountant
General's Office by the Maharaja of Baroda. I used
to leave the inn at about 10 a.m. for the office
and return late at about 8 in the evening contriving to while away outside the
inn as much time in company of friends as I could. The idea of returning to the
inn to spend the night therein was most terrifying to me and I used to return to the inn only because I had no other place
under the sky to go for rest. In this big hall on the first floor of the inn
there were no fellow human beings to talk to. I was
quite alone. The whole hall was enveloped in complete darkness. There were no
electric lights nor even oil lamps to relieve the darkness. The caretaker used
to bring up for my use a small hurricane lamp. Its light could not extend
beyond a few inches. I felt that I was in a dungeon and I longed for the
company of some human being to talk to. But there was none. In the absence of
the company of human beings I sought the company of books and read and read.
Absorbed in reading I forgot my lonely condition. But the chirping and flying
about of the bats, which had made the hall their home, often distracted my mind
and sent cold shivers through me reminding me of what I was endeavouring to
forget, that I was in a strange place under strange conditions. Many a time I
must have been angry. But I subdued my grief and my anger by the feeling that
though it was a dungeon, it was a shelter and that some shelter was better than
no shelter. So heart-rending was my condition that when my sister's son came
from Bombay bringing my remaining luggage which I had left behind and when he
saw my state, began to cry so loudly that I had to send him back immediately.
In this state I lived in the Parsi inn
impersonating a Parsi. I knew that I could not long
continue this impersonation as I would be discovered some day. I was therefore
trying to get a State bungalow to stay in. But the Prime Minister did not look
upon my request with the same urgency. My petition went from officer to officer
and before I got the final reply the day of my doom arrived.
It was 11th day of my stay in the inn. I had taken my
morning meal and had dressed up and was about to step out of my room to go to
office. As I was picking up some books, which I had borrowed overnight for returning them to the library I heard footsteps of a
considerable number of people coming up the staircase. I thought they were
tourists who had come to stay and was therefore looking out to see who these
friends were. Instantly I saw a dozen angry looking, tall, sturdy Parsis, each armed with a stick, coming towards my
room. I realised that they were not fellow tourists and they gave proof of it
immediately. They lined up in front of my room and fired a volley of questions.
"Who are you ? Why did you come here ? How dare you take a parsi name ? You scoundrel ! You have
polluted the Parsi inn ! "
I stood silent. I could give no answer. I could not persist in impersonation.
It was in fact a fraud and the fraud was discovered, and I am sure if I had
persisted in the game I was playing I would have been assaulted by the mob of
angry and fanatic Parsis and probably doomed to death. My meekness and my
silence averted this doom. One of them asked when I thought of vacating. At
that time my shelter I prized more than my life. The threat implied in this
question was a grave one. I therefore broke my silence and implored them to let
me stay for a week at least, thinking that my application to the Minister for a
bungalow would be decided upon favourably in the meantime. But the Parsis were
in no mood to listen. They issued an ultimatum. They must not find me in the
inn in the evening. I must pack off. They held out dire consequences and left.
I was bewildered. My heart sank within me. I cursed all and wept bitterly.
After all I was deprived of my precious possession—namely my shelter. It was no
better than a prisoners' cell. But it was to me
very precious.
After the Parsis were gone I
sat for some time engaged in thinking to find a way out. I had hopes that I
would soon get a State
bungalow and my troubles would be over. My problem was therefore a temporary
problem and I thought that going to friends would be a good solution. I had no
friends among the untouchables of Baroda State. But
I had friends among other classes. One was a Hindu,
the other was an Indian Christian. I first went to my Hindu friend and told- him what had befallen me. He was a noble soul and a
great personal friend of mine. He was sad and also indignant. He, however, let
fall one observation. He said, "If you come to my home my servants will
go". I took the hint and did not press him to accommodate me. I did not
like to go to the Indian Christian friend. Once he had invited me to go and
stay with him. But I had declined preferring to stay in the Parsi inn. My reason was that his habits were not
congenial to me. To go now would be to invite a rebuff. So I went to my office but I could not really give up this chance of
finding a shelter. On consulting a friend I decided to go to him and ask him if
he would accommodate me. When I put the question his reply was that his wife
was coming to Baroda the next day and that he would have to consult her. I
learnt subsequently that it was a very diplomatic answer. He and his wife came
originally from a family which was Brahmin by caste and although on conversion
to Christianity the husband had become liberal in thought, the wife had
remained orthodox in her ways and would not have consented to harbour an
untouchable in her house. The last ray of hope thus flickered away. It was 4
p.m. when-1 left the house of my Indian Christian
friend. Where to go was the one supreme question before me. I must quit the inn
and had no friend to go to ! ! The only alternative
left was to return to Bombay.
The train to Bombay left Baroda at 9 p.m. There were
five hours to be spent. Where to spend them ?
Should I go to the inn ? Should I go to my friend ? I could not buck up sufficient courage to go back to
the inn. I feared the Parsis might come and attack me. I did not like to go to
my friend. Though my condition was pitiable I did not like to be pitied. I
decided to spend the five hours in the public garden which is called Kamathi Baug, on the border of the city and the camp.
I sat there partly with a vacant mind, partly with sorrow at the thought of
what had happened to me, and thought of my father and mother as children do
when they are in a forlorn condition. At 8 p.m. I
came out of the garden, took a carriage to the inn, brought down my luggage.
The caretaker came out but neither he nor I could utter a word to each other.
He felt that he was in some way responsible for bringing him into trouble. I
paid him his bill. He received it in silence and I took his leave in silence. I
had gone to Baroda with high hope. I had given up
many offers. It was war time. Many places in the Indian Educational service
were vacant. I knew very influential people in London. But I did not seek any
of them. I felt that my duty was to offer my
services first to the Maharaja of Baroda who had financed my education. And here I was driven to leave Baroda and return
to Bombay after a stay of only eleven days.
This scene of a dozen Parsis
armed with sticks lined before me in a menacing mood and myself standing before
them with a terrified look imploring for mercy is a scene which so long a
period as 18 years has not succeeded in fading away. I can even now vividly
recall it and never recall it without tears in my eyes. It was then for the first time that I learnt
that a person who is an untouchable to a Hindu is
also an untouchable to a Parsi.
The year was 1929. The Bombay Government had appointed a
Committee to investigate the grievances of the untouchables. I was appointed a
member of the Committee. The Committee had to tour all over
the province to investigate into the allegations of injustice, oppression
and tyranny. The Committee split up. I and another member were assigned the two
districts of Khandesh. My colleague and myself
after finishing our work parted company. He went to see some Hindu saint. I left by train to go to Bombay. At Chalisgaon I got down to go to a village on the Dhulia line to investigate a case of social boycott
which had been declared by the caste Hindus against the untouchables of that
village. The untouchables of Chalisgaon came to the station and requested me to
stay for the night with them. My original plan was to go straight to Bombay
after investigating the case of social boycott. But as they were keen I agreed
to stay overnight. I boarded
the train for Dhulia to go to the village, went there and informed myself of
the situation prevailing in the village and returned
by the next train to Chalisgaon.
I found the untouchables of Chalisgaon waiting for me at
the station. I was garlanded. The Maharwada, the quarters of the untouchables, is about
2 miles from the Railway station and one has to cross a river on which there is
a culvert to reach it. There were many horse carriages at the station plying
for hire. The Maharwada was also within walking distance from the station. I
expected immediately to be taken to the Maharwada. But there was no movement in that direction and I could not
understand why I was kept waiting. After an hour or so a tonga (one horse carriage) was brought close to the platform and I
got in. The driver and I were the only two occupants of the tonga. Others went on foot by a short
cut. The tonga had not gone 200 paces
when there would have been a collision with a motor car. I was surprised that
the driver who was paid for hire every day should have been so inexperienced.
The accident was averted only because on the laud shout of the policeman the
driver of the car pulled it back.
We some how came to the culvert on the river. On it
there are no walls as there are on a bridge. There is only a row stones fixed at a distance of five or ten ft. It is paved with
stones. The culvert on the river is at right angles
to the road we were
coming by. A sharp turn
has to be taken to come to the culvert from the road. Near
the very first side
stone of the culvert the horse instead of going
straight took a turn
and bolted. The wheel of the tonga struck against
the side stone so forcibly that I was bodily
lifted up and thrown down
on the stone pavement of the culvert and the horse and the carriage fell down from
the culvert into the
river. So heavy was the fall that I lay down senseless. The Maharwada is just on the
other bank of the river. The men who had come to greet me at the station had reached there ahead of me. I was lifted and taken
to the Maharwada amidst theories
and lamentations of the men, women and children. As a result of this I received
several injuries. My leg was fractured and I was disabled
for several days. I could not understand how all this happened. The tongas pass
and repass the culvert every day and never has a driver failed to take the
tonga safely over the culvert.
-On enquiry I was told the real facts. The delay at the railway station was due to the fact that the tongawalas
were not prepared to drive the tonga with a
passenger who was an untouchable. It was beneath their dignity. The Mahars could not tolerate that I should walk to their quarters. It was not in keeping
with their sense of my dignity. A compromise was therefore arrived at. That
compromise was to this effect: the owner of the
tonga would give the tonga on hire but not drive.
The Mahars may take the tonga but
find someone to drive it. The Mahars Sought this to be a happy
solution. But they evidently forgot that the safety of the passenger was more important than the maintenance of his dignity. If they
had thought of this they would have considered
whether they could get a driver what could safely
conduct me to my destination. As a matter of fact none of then
could live because it was not their trade. They
therefore asked someone from amongst themselves to
drive. The man took the reins in his hand and started thinking there was
nothing in it. But as he got on he felt his responsibility and became so
nervous that he gave up all attempt to control. To save my dignity the Mahars of Chalisgaon had
put my very life in jeopardy. It is then I learnt that a Hindu tongawalla,
no better than a menial, has a dignity by which he can look upon himself as a
person who is superior to all untouchables even though he may be a Barristar-at-law.
In the year 1934, some of my co-workers in the movement
of the depressed classes expressed a desire to go on a sight-seeing tour if I
agreed to join them. I agreed. It was decided that our plan should at all
events include a visit to the Buddhist caves at Verul. It was arranged that I should go to Nasik and the party should join me at Nasik. To go to Verul we
had to go to Aurangabad. Aurangabad
is a town in the Mohammedan State of Hyderabad and is included in the dominion
of His Exalted Highness, the Nisam. On the way to Aurangabad we had first to
pass another town called Daulatabad which is also
in the Hyderabad State. Daulatabad is a historical place and was, at one time,
the capital of a famous Hindu King by name Ramdeo Rai.
The fort of Daulatabad is an ancient historical monument and no tourist while
in that vicinity should omit a visit to it. Accordingly our party had also
included in its programme a visit to the fort of Daulatabad.
We hired some buses and touring cars. We were about 30
in number. We started from Nasik to Yeola as Yeola is on the way to Aurangabad. Our tour programme
had not been announced and quite deliberately. We wanted to travel incognito in
order to avoid difficulties which an untouchable tourist has to face in
outlying parts of the country. We had informed our people at those centres only
at which we had decided to halt. Accordingly, on the way although we passed
many villages in the Nisam State none of our people had come to meet us. It was
naturally different at Daulatabad. There our people had been informed that we
were coming. They were waiting for us and had gathered at the entrance to the
town. They asked us to get down and have tea and refreshment first and then to
go to see the fort. We did not agree to their proposal. We wanted tea very
badly but we wanted sufficient time to see the fort before it was dusk. We
therefore left for the fort and told our people
that we would take tea on our return. Accordingly
we told our drivers to move on and within a few minutes we were at the gate of
the fort.
The month was Ramjan, the
month of fast for the Mohammedans. Just outside the gate of the fort there is a
small tank of water full to brim. There is all around a wide stone pavement.
Our faces, bodies and clothes were full of dust gathered in the course of our
journey and we all wished to have a wash. Without
much thought some members of the party washed their faces and their legs on the
pavement with the water from the tank. After these ablutions we went to the
gate of the fort. There were armed soldiers inside. They opened the big gates
and admitted us into the archway. We had just commenced asking the guard the
procedure for obtaining permission to go into the fort. In the meantime an old
Mohammedan with white flowing beard was coming from behind shouting " the Dheds (meaning
untouchables) have polluted the tank ". Soon
all the young and old Mohammedans who were near about joined him and all
started abusing us. " The Dheds have become
arrogant. The Dheds have forgotten their religion
(i.e. to remain low and degraded). The Dheds must be taught a lesson ". They assumed a most menacing mood. We told
them that we were outsiders and did not know the local custom. They turned the
fire of their wrath against the local untouchables who by that time had arrived
at the gate. " Why did you not tell these
outsiders that this tank could not be used by untouchables ! " was the question
they kept on asking them. Poor people ! They were
not there when we entered tank. It was really our mistake because we acted
without inquiry. They protested that it was not their fault. But the
Mohammedans were not prepared to listen to my explanation. They kept on abusing
them and us. The abuse was so vulgar that it had exasperated us. There could
easily have been a riot and possibly murders. We had however to restrain
ourselves. We did not want to be involved in a
criminal case which would bring our tour to an abrupt end.
One young muslim in the
crowd kept on saying that every one must conform to his religion, meaning
thereby that the untouchables must not take water from a public tank. I had
grown quite impatient and asked him in a some what angry tone, " Is that what your religion teaches ? Would you prevent an untouchable from taking water from
this tank if he became a Mohammedan ? " These straight questions seemed to have some
effect on the Mohammedans. They gave no answer and
stood silent. Turning to the guard I said, again in
an angry tone, "Can we get into the fort or not ?
Tell us, if we can't we don't want to stop".
The guard asked for my name. I wrote it out on a piece of paper. He took it to
the Superintendent inside and came out. We were told that we could go into the
fort but we could not touch water anywhere in the fort and an armed soldier was
ordered to go with us to see that we did not transgress the order.
I gave one instance to show that a person who is an
untouchable to a Hindu is also an untouchable to a Parsi.
This will show that person who is an untouchable to a Hindu is also an
untouchable to a Mohammedan.
The next case is equally illuminating. It is a case of
an Untouchable school teacher in a village in Kathiawar
and is reported in the following letter which appeared in the ' Young India' a journal published by
Mr. Gandhi in its issue of 12th December 1929. It
expresses the difficulties he had expressed in
persuading a Hindu doctor to attend to his wife who had just delivered and how
the wife and child died for want of medical attention. The letter says :
"On the 5th of this month a child was born to me. On the 7th, she fell ill and suffered from loose stools. Her vitality seemed to ebb
away and her chest became inflamed. Her breathing became difficult and there
was acute pain in the ribs. I went to call a doctor—but he said he would not go
to the house of a Harijan nor was he prepared lo
examine the child. Then I went to Nagarseth and Garasia Darbar and pleaded
them to help me. The Nagarseth stood surety to the
doctor for my paying his fee of two rupees. Then the doctor came but on
condition that he would examine them only outside the Harijan colony. I took my
wife out of the colony along with her newly born
child. Then the doctor gave his thermometer to a Muslim, he gave it to me and I
gave it to my wife and then returned it by the same
process after it had been applied. It was about eight o'clock in the evening
and the doctor on looking at the thermometer in the light of a lamp said that
the patient was suffering from pneumonia. Then the doctor went away and sent
the medicine. I brought some linseed from the bazar and used it on the patient.
The doctor refused to see her later, although I gave the two rupees fee. The disease is dangerous and God alone will
help us.
The lamp of my life has died out. She passed away at about
two o'clock this afternoon. "
The name of the Untouchable school teacher is not given.
So also the name of the doctor is not mentioned. This was at the request of the
Untouchable teacher who feared reprisals. The facts are indisputable.
No explanation is necessary. The doctor, who inspite of
being educated refused to apply the thermometer and treat an ailing woman in a
critical condition. As a result of his refusal to treat her, the woman died. He
felt no qualms of conscience in setting aside the code of conduct which is
binding on his profession. The Hindu would prefer to be inhuman rather than
touch an Untouchable.
There is one other incident more telling than this. On
the 6th of March 1938, a meeting of the Bhangis was held at Kasarwadi (behind
Woollen Mills) Dadar, Bombay, under the
Chairmanship of Mr. Indulal Yadnik. In this meeting, one Bhangi
boy narrated his experience in the following terms :
" I passed the Vernacular Final Examination in 1933. I have studied
English up to the 4th Standard. I applied to the Schools Committee of the
Bombay Municipality for employment as a teacher but I failed as there was no
vacancy. Then, I applied to the Backward Classes Officer, Ahmedabad, for the job of a Talati
(village Patwari) and I succeeded. On 19th February
1936, I was appointed a Talati in the office of the Mamlatdar
of the Borsad Taluka in
the Kheda District.
Although my family originally came from Gujarat, I had never been in Gujarat before. This was
my first occasion to go there. Similarly, I did not know that untouchability would be observed in Government
Offices. Besides in my application the facts of my being a Harijan was mentioned and so I expected that my
colleagues in the office would know before-hand who I was. That being so, I was
surprised to find the attitude of the clerk of the Mamlatdar's office when I presented myself to take charge of
the post of the Talati.
The Karkun contemptuously
asked, " Who are you ?
" I replied, "
Sir, lama Harijan". Hesaid,"Goaway, standata distance. How dare you stand so near me. You are in office, if
you were outside I would have given you six kicks, what audacity to come here
for service ? "
Thereafter, he asked me to drop on the ground my
certificate and the order of appointment as a Talati. He then picked them up.
While I was working in the Mamlaldar's office at
Borsad I experienced great difficulty in the matter of getting water for
drinking. In the verandah of the office there were
kept cans containing drinking water. There was a waterman in-charge of these
water cans. His duty was to pour out water to clerks in office whenever they
needed it In the absence of the waterman they could
themselves take water out of the cans and drink it
That was impossible in my case. I could not touch the cans for my touch would
pollute the water, I had therefore to depend upon the mercy of the waterman.
For my use there was kept a small rusty pot No one
would touch it or wash it except myself. It was in this pot that the waterman
would dole out water to me. But I could get water only if the waterman was
present. This waterman did not like the idea of supplying me with water. Seeing
that I was coming for water he would manage to slip away with the result that I
had to go without water and the days on which I had no water to drink were by
no means few.
I had the same difficulties regarding my residence. I
was a stranger in Borsad. No caste Hindu would rent
a house to me. The Untouchables of Borsad were not
ready to give me lodgings for the fear of displeasing the Hindus who did not
like my attempt to live as a clerk, a station above me. Far greater
difficulties were with regard to food. There was no place or person from where
I could get my meals. I used to buy ' Bhajhas ' morning and evening, eat them in some solitary place outside
the village and come and sleep at night, on the pavement of the verandahs of the Mamlatdar's
office. In this way, I passed four days. All this became unbearable to me. Then
I went to live at Jentral, my ancestral village. It
was six miles from Borsad. Every day I had to walk eleven miles. This I did for
a month and a half.
There after the Mamlatdar sent me to a Talati
to learn the work. This Talati was in charge of
three villages, Jentral, Khapur and Saijpur. Jentral was his headquarters. I was in Jentral
with this Talati for two months. He taught me
nothing and I never once entered the village office. The headman of the village was particularly
hostile. Once he had said, ' you fellow, your father, your brother are sweepers
who sweep the village office and you want to sit in the office as our equal ?
Take care, better give up this job.'
One day the Talati called me to Saijpur
to prepare the population table of the village. From Jentral I went to Saijpur.
I found the Headman and the Talati in the viUege office
doing some work. I went, stood near the door of the office and wished them '
good morning ' but they took no notice of me. I
stood outside for about 15 minutes. I was already tired of life and felt
enraged at being thus ignored and insulted. I sat down on a chair that was
lying there. Seeing me seated on the chair the Headman and the Talati quietly
went away without saying anything to me. A short while after, people began to
come and soon a large crowd gathered round me. This crowd was led by the Librarian of the village library. I could not understand why an educated person should
have led this mob. I subsequently learnt that the
chair was his. He started abusing me in the worst terms. Addressing the Ravania (village servant) he said, ' Who allowed this
dirty dog of a Bhangi to sit on the chair ? ' The Ravania unseated me and took away the chair
from me. I sat on the ground. Thereupon the crowd entered the village office
and surrounded me. It was a furious crowd raging
with anger, some abusing me, some threatening to cut me to pieces with Dharya (a sharp weapon like the sword). I implored them to excuse me and to have mercy upon
me. That did not have any effect upon the crowd. I did not know how to save
myself. But an idea came to me of writing to the Mamlatdar
about the fate that had befallen me and telling him how to dispose of my body
in case I was killed by the crowd. Incidentally, it was my hope that if the crowd came to know that I was practically
reporting against them to the Mamlatdar they might hold their hands. I asked
the Ravania to give me a piece of paper which he
did. Then with my fountain pen I wrote the following on it in big bold letters
so that everybody could read it:
"To,
Sir,
Be pleased to accept the humble salutations of Parmar Kalidas Shivram.
This is to humbly inform you that the hand of death is falling upon me today.
It would not have been so if I had listened to the words of my parents. Be so
good as to inform my parents of my death."
The Librarian read what I wrote and at once asked me to tear it off, which I did. They showered upon me innumerable insults. 'You want us to address you as our Talati ? You are a Bhangi and you want to enter the office and sit on the chair ? ' I implored for mercy and promised not to repeat this and also promised to give up the job. I was kept there till seven in the evening when the crowd left. Till then the Talati and the Mukhiya had not come. Thereafter I took fifteen days' leave and returned to my parents in Bombay. "