hello, goodbye

As I sit in a Colaba hotel in Mumbai, the honking of cars and other nuisances of city life screaming four stories below, I can’t help but think of my friends at the RDC with nostalgia. I never thought I would miss cows, cow shit, more cows, goats, buffalo, bullocks, no toilet, no electricity, no internet, mosquitoes, oh wait they’re still buzzing, oh lets not forget all the random people transfixed, staring while we carried on the minutiae of our daily lives, taking pictures with their cameras phones, holding one of my dreadlocks up with amazement and wondering where these strange folk had come from. These mild inconveniences, however, came coupled with a rural family that will be greatly missed. Despite the language barrier, we communicated in the language of love and compassion, of understanding for our fellow man. Worlds apart, we became friends, more than friends for they made sure we were fed and taken care of and we in turn, always greeted them with a jubilant “good morning” and tried to show our appreciation. As we said our goodbyes, Kaku, head woman in charge of the kitchen, warned me not to cry as her stern look gave way to watery eyes. Archana, head woman in charge of the kitchen too, cried with me as I hugged them multiple times. Captain and Gule, head men not in charge, hehehe, were a little emotional if not shocked by my sudden hug (oh screw it; I said to myself, I know it’s inappropriate but I’ll miss the hell out of them too). Oh and little Ashok with his incomprehensible amount of energy, for he is a small boy for his age, screaming “titi, breakfast.”
Once in the car it was easier to let go, the steel box acting as a barrier between this rural world we were departing and mobility, detachment. Taking in my last glimpses of sugar cane fields, saried woman with heavy loads of wash, burning wood, water, and what have you, cows, cow shit, goats, buffalo, bullocks, I felt guilty that the pain in my chest had subsided considerably. These people had forever changed my life but how much more greatly had I changed theirs? I will continue on to bigger and greener pastures and they will remain in their post, perhaps wondering what happened to that crazy dreadlocked dancing fool. But perhaps I underestimate the impact they’ve had on my life. Perhaps the traffic below is stifling the cries of a melancholic heart.

The Plight of Dalit Women

Thrice discriminated, first they are victimized by class, followed closely by caste and most oppressively by gender; Dalit women faced an array of atrocities. Troubled by the daily difficulties that threaten their livelihoods, feeding their families, violence and rape to name a few, Dalit women overlook their emancipation. Given that gender and caste discrimination is in inherent in Indian society, ensuing from thousands of years of oppression, many women internalize their inferior position and accept it as a way of life. Even once raped, many lower caste women refused to come forward, only about 30% of cases are reported. The main reason for the silence is fear of losing one’s honor and disgracing the family name. Yet is it often in order to soil the family name that the women are raped. Upper caste men who fear their husbands or fathers wait till the men have left the home in order to attack. Many women are also sexually harassed by their employers. Those women who do come forward are often outcasted and further victimized by their communities. The justice system is also hesitant in believing that an upper caste man would pollute himself by raping a lower caste woman but cases of rape and sexual abuse are rampant. Three Dalit women are raped daily and coincidently, three village women that were ganged raped by the police, recently showed up at RDC to request Adv. Eknath Awad’s assistance in filing a case. But who can these women turn to if their own local justice bodies are committing atrocities against them? Who can they trust if their value is diminished as soon as they are born female? Their fathers, husbands, and sons discount their opinions and families abort or even murder baby girls. Why should the family honor rest solely on the chastity of women? These are only but a few questions that must muddle the mind of Dalit women and that I too struggle to comprehend. But in our struggle we must be made aware of the crucial role women play in uplifting entire communities, not only as bread winners, but by serving as role models and providing education to future generations.

Rural Visiting

So we’ve been visiting the different districts in the Marathwada region of Maharashtra in order to better understand the plight of poor landless Dalits in one of the poorest region in India. Despite the fact that nearly 30% of the population in this region live on less than $0.40 a day, these people greeted us with tremendous warmth. The villagers greeted us with multiple gifts of flower necklaces, scarves and coconuts. They crowded our car wherever we went, sang convivial songs and offered tea and meals whenever possible. They seemed ecstatic that foreigners would take the time to visit their removed villages. We swayed and bumped our heads as we drove for hours on half finished or dirt roads that were full of pot holes and blocked by rocks and the ubiquitous buffalo. During one of our village visits, I was moved to tears by the numerous school children who ran breathlessly smiling and waving after our car in their blue uniforms. In spite of being sick with food poisoning, I was revived by my interactions with the village folk and with lifted spirits, forgot about the pain in my stomach. In an interview with the local media, I shouted Jaibhim and zindebad in solidarity with Dr. B. R. Ambedkar and spoke of the social disease that is plaguing India. It is not permissible that the majority of the population be oppressed by the powerful few. Women and Dalits must not only be allowed but encouraged to thrive. They should not have to sleep on the dirt, barely sheltered by hay huts, constrained to the outskirts of villages, removed from water supplies and barred from community centers and shops. They should not have to worry that while tilling their land, they may be hacked to pieces or raped. But despite the constant harassment of the upper-caste and the police, Dalits endure with optimism. Their fighting spirit and kindness has refueled my passion and further inspired me to join in the struggle to end caste as well as gender discrimination in India.