Dalits upset with TTD’s tokenism

http://www.deccanhe rald.com/ Content/Aug82008 /panorama2008080 783303.asp

By R Akhileshwari

Most of the TTD’s income is from oppressed Hindus, who form 80-90 per
cent of the pilgrims.

The Dalita Govindam programme by the Tirumala Tirupati Devasthanams
(TTD) to win over the Dalits and keep them within the Hindu fold seems
to have rebounded. The Dalits are outraged that, in the name of God,
they have once again been humiliated and shown that they cannot be
part of the religion as practised by a few.

While Dalit activists are threatening to file a case against the TTD
under the SC-ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act for ‘humiliating’ the
Dalits, political parties — including the Left and the BJP — have
dismissed the programme as a ‘gimmick’ and a ‘farce’.

The issue is that the idols of Sri Venkateswara and his two consorts
that were taken to the Dalitwada — in Vemuru village, Chittoor
district, a few kms from Tirupati — have been kept in a room used by
priests rather than in the sanctum sanctorum. In response to the Dalit
outrage that this was yet another face of social discrimination
against the Dalits, the TTD insists that placing the idols in the
sanctum santorum would be a violation of Agama Sastras that rule the
rituals in the Tirumala temple. The Dalit organisations have sought
redressal and have taken the issue to the SC-ST Commission and have
also appealed to the President of India to intervene.

The TTD organised the programme, the brainchild of its chairman B
Karunakar Reddy — who was once a Left activist. For the first time
ever, the deities of Sri Venkateswara and his two consorts were taken
to Vemuru village’s Dalitwada last April. Pujas were performed and a
feast was held. Priests blessed the community enmasse with Veda
Asirvadam and the devotees were given Srivari Prasadam both of which
are normally given to VVIPs when they go to the Tirumala temple for
darshan.

After a night’s halt in the Dalitwada, they were brought back to
Tirumala. The initiative, Reddy explained, was to spread the message
that everyone was equal in the eyes of God and that Hindu religion
does not support caste or caste-based discrimination. The caste
system, he said, was enforced by influential sections in the middle
ages for their own benefit. Over the years, a schism developed in the
society with the exclusion of weaker sections like Dalits and the BCs.
Untouchability, said Reddy, had done irreparable damage to the Hindu
society.

The TTD found it worrying that the numbers of the Hindus converting to
other religions were much higher in the last 50 years than in the rule
of Mughals or the colonial period. Therefore, the TTD took up
programmes with ‘social’ dimension like Dalita Govindam, Matsya
Govindam and Girjana Govindam. In the last programme, select tribal
youth have been taught religious rituals and mantras that can be used
along with their tribal worship, according to the TTD. Interestingly,
Reddy had, as an activist, led an agitation some years ago and
succeeded in getting Dalits to enter a local temple and do puja.

However, his efforts this time round seem to have rebounded given the
controversy over the idols. P Anjaiah, state general secretary,
Republican Party of India, believes that Dalits were ‘cheated’ and
excluded in every aspect of the Dalita Govindam programme.

First, the TTD announced that the deities that are in the sanctum
sanctorum, one of the five sets of deities that are moved out for
various pujas and festivals, would be taken to Vemuru Dalitawada.
Instead, enquiries showed, idols were newly made for the Dalita
Govindam; decorated with ‘gilded’ ornaments and taken to Vemuru. On
return, they were confined to a building used by temple priests. When
asked, the TTD explained that the idols were not “sanctified” or
“given life” and therefore they could be placed in the sanctum
sanctorum..

“We have been once again cheated by ‘dead’ deities and false
ornaments. We were cheated socially and politically; now we are being
cheated in the name of god,” said Anjaiah.

Also, if the TTD really wants to include Dalits, then during the
programme, the priests should have eaten the food prepared in Dalit
kitchens and slept in their huts. This would have sent a far more
powerful message than a 100 Dalita Govindams, Dalit activists point
out.

They also point out that the TTD’s annual income of Rs 1,800 crore is
the contribution of the oppressed Hindus, who comprise 80-90 per cent
of the pilgrims to Tirumala. Yet, the posts in the TTD are ‘reserved’
only for upper castes. Also, in the numerous educational institutions
run by the TTD, the number of Dalit and other oppressed caste
employees is minimal. Why should not the TTD run ‘Vedic’ schools
specially for Dalit children, they ask.
If the TTD genuinely believes that caste discrimination is not
supported by Hindu religion, then it should do more than have a
one-night Dalita Govindam. Tokenism is insincerity. In fact, it is
cheating.

Click on Below link:

• Kambalapalli Carnage (and other struggles)

Tamil Nadu’s Dalit saga

(Frontline) http://www.flonnet.com/fl2223/stories/20051118000407000.htm

C. T. KURIEN

DALITS – for long considered and treated as outcastes in a strictly caste-based social order, later attempted to be glorified as Harijans or people of God, and Scheduled Castes from the time of the adoption of the Constitution in 1950 – constitute approximately a fifth of the population of the country as also of Tamil Nadu. Their contemporary position is the theme of the two volumes brought together here.

Viswanathan’s work consists of some 50 pieces published in Frontline from 1995 to 2004, which regular readers may recall. These pieces, which included the chilling accounts of the Melavalavu murders of 1997 and the Tirunelveli massacre of 1999, were the attempt of a dedicated journalist to bring to the notice of the public the atrocities against Dalits in Tamil Nadu in the 1990s and the early part of the present decade and the many ways Dalits have been responding to the situation. The collection comes with an Introduction by Ravikumar. It deals briefly with the question of the origins of the groups of people referred to as Dalits, the anti-Brahmin movement in Dravidian land and the ascendancy of non-brahmins, and the present attitude of the leading political parties towards Dalits.

Hugo Gorringe is a sociologist at the University of Scotland and his work is based on field studies he did in the 1980s and 1990s in Tamil Nadu concentrating on Madurai and neighbouring areas. It also deals with the contemporary conditions of Dalits with a focus on Dalit organisations, especially the Dalit Panther Iyakam (DPI), known also as the Liberation Panthers, led by Thirumavalavan. It is more an analytical study and considers the following questions: “(a) How can democracy be preserved or even enhanced under conditions of extra-institutional mobilisation? (b) What is the current situation of Dalits in Tamil Nadu and how and why, if at all, Dalits resort to protest? (c) How are egalitarian and democratic ideas initiated at the local level? (d) How do action concepts of social movements translate into everyday lives of their members? (e) How are the demands and fears of Dalits located and played out in spatial terms? (f) Finally, what are the implications of Dalits’ entry into politics for the `democratisation of democracy’ in Tamil Nadu and India?” (Untouchable Citizens, page 22).

Although done independently and with different objectives, the two studies have much in common. Their focus on Tamil Nadu is because of the Dravidian movement’s long history of fight against caste discrimination, championing the cause of those once considered to be underdogs. What the two studies bring out is that the oppression that Dalits experience today is caused not by the “upper castes”, but by those who were once at the lowest level in the caste hierarchy, socially only slightly above that of Dalits. The equality and justice that the Dravidian movement fought for, and to a measure achieved, were to be limited to the Backward Castes, it would appear. These caste groups, now in power, would like to see the former outcastes remain where they have always been.

But, of course, Dalits can no longer be excluded. The Constitution and laws of the land are now, in principle at least, fully inclusive. Untouchability, once the clearest manifestation of social exclusion, is now illegal and the practice of it in any form is a punishable offence. Over the past five decades there have been many determined efforts to make the principle of inclusion effective, starting with reservation of seats for Dalits in legislative bodies and subsequently in educational institutions and public services. And by a variety of objective criteria, the condition of Dalits today is far better than what it was in the past.

What both Viswanathan and Gorringe bring out is that paradoxical though it may appear, it is precisely the legal inclusion of the Dalits and the progress that they have made and continue make that constitute the Dalit problem today. Once Dalits were excluded and suppressed. Now they are included and oppressed. “Numerous are the ways in which Dalits are tormented. They are murdered and maimed; women are raped; their children are abused and deprived of schooling; they are disposssessed of their property; their houses are torched; they are denied their legitimate rights; and their sources of livelihood are destroyed,” wrote Viswanathan in one of his pieces in 2002 (Dalits in Dravidian Land, page 241).

But why? Consider the following: “The first Dalit graduate from a village in Madurai district walked home at the end of the term passing through the upper-caste area of his village wearing shoes and trousers. Perceiving this to be a challenge to their authority, Backward Caste youths set upon him and beat him to death” (Untouchable Citizens, page 185). Two young people, both students at Annamalai University, fell in love and married. The young man was a Dalit. The young woman’s family, belonging to the Vanniar caste, above Dalits in the caste hierarchy, objected to the marriage and the couple was found dead under suspicious circumstances (Dalits in Dravidian Land). In July 1998, soon after K.R. Narayanan took over as President, a group of Dalit youths attempted to celebrate the fact of a Dalit becoming the First Citizen of the country. Caste Hindus objected and a clash followed, finally resulting in twenty Dalit huts being torched and over a hundred dwellings of Dalits being damaged (Dalits in Dravidian Land, page 99). On Independence day 2003, the Dalit panchayat president of a village in one of the southern districts of Tamil Nadu was “assaulted and humiliated in public because he `dared’ to unfurl the national flag at the panchayat’s official function (Dalits in Dravidian Land, page 279).

The Melavalavu murders of 1997, which created a lot of sensation in the State and which both Viswanathan and Gorringe record was also a clear case of Dalit progress inviting retaliation by higher castes. The presidentship of the panchayat of Melavalavu village, close to Madurai, was reserved for Dalits. Members of the Thevar caste, a backward caste but above the Dalits, tried their best to prevent it by disrupting the election process. Finally, under police protection, the election was conducted and Murugesan, a Dalit, was elected president. Members of the higher caste made it difficult for him to operate from the panchayat office. Murugesan went to Madurai to make a representation to the District Collector. On his way back, a mob stopped the bus he was travelling in, dragged him out and murdered him and six of his followers. (One account says that the murder was committed by some who were travelling with Murugesan.)

Commenting on instances of this kind, Gorringe says: “The intent in each of these is apparent. The Dalits are to be kept in their place, which is deemed to be beyond the boundaries of society,” (Untouchable Citizens, page 185) especially when attempts are being made, with some measure of success, to bring them in, one must add.

Viswanathan’s accounts show that the harassment of Dalits is very much a day-to-day affair. The denial of access to public sources of water is the commonest form of harassment in many villages; this arises from the notion the higher castes nurse that Dalits are impure. Another manifestation of it is the still prevalent practice in village tea shops in many parts of the State to have separate tumblers for Dalits. Land-related problems also arise frequently. Since Dalits have been for centuries agricultural labourers working for their livelihood on other people’s land, there is a widespread notion that they have no right to own land. Caste groups that are slightly above Dalits who have been coming to have ownership of land resent it when Dalits become landowners. And there is the perennial problem arising from Dalits having to use village roads to carry dead bodies to burning ghats and burial grounds set apart for them.

However, Viswanathan’s pieces are not mere tales of woe. He documents several cases of Dalit assertiveness and persistence. One of the most striking cases is of a Dalit woman named Parvathi. In the new panchayati raj system she was elected president of a panchayat reserved for Dalits. She had to confront a hostile and influential vice-president from the dominant Marava community. He and his associates tried to prevent her from conducting the meetings. Parvathi sought the help of the police and thwarted the plans of her detractors. Her courage and determination enabled her to go ahead with her task and win support in the village even from members of the higher castes. She was re-elected for a second term in 2001 (Dalits in Dravidian Land, page 231).

THE Dalit scene in Tamil Nadu is one of progress, oppression and suffering, resistance and change. Gorringe analyses this complex process. He has an apt description of the sense of exclusion that Dalits still experience in spite of the legal inclusion that they have in independent India. “The exclusion of Dalits from the main body of society is symbolised on many fronts. Physically the cheris are located outside the main village; semantically they are referred to as `Untouchables’; spiritually, Dalits are denied access to temples, told that they are impure… ; materially Dalits are alienated from resources and land; culturally their skills are demeaned; and socially they are served in different receptacles in restaurants” (Untouchable Citizens, page 73). And since these are as much the Dalit reality today as they were in the distant past, Dalits are “at the same time inside and outside the system” (Untouchable Citizens, page 306). If they are to become realistically inside the system, what must they do?

In the 1990s, the Dalit response was to get organised. Perhaps it was forced upon them, initially as the natural response in each village, the cheri, that is, to atrocities against one of them or many of them. Newspapers, radio and television soon made them aware that similar problems were coming up in many places around them and so regional `movements’ started taking shape. The regional movements demonstrated the strength arising from numbers and unity, but also brought out some inherent limitations. First, of course, was the fact that they did not have the resources, the personnel and leadership to build up and sustain large-scale movements. Of the three, leadership was the most crucial. It is in this context that the services of K. Krishnasamy and Thirumavalavan have to be appreciated, the former a medical practitioner and the latter a well-placed government official. Both of them gave part-time help to aggrieved fellow Dalits initially, later they became leaders of Dalit movements and have since emerged as political personalities. Their sustained effort and personal sacrifices have succeeded in mobilising Dalits, enthusing more Dalits to devote time for the movements, and generated resources to make the movements fairly well established in the State.

Attempts to mobilise have also brought to the fore some deep-rooted problems. There is, to be sure, an essential caste problem as far as Dalits are concerned and the attempt sometimes made by leftist parties to reduce it to a class problem of agricultural labourers is an oversimplification. In organising Dalits, therefore, their specific caste grievances get prominently featured. However, it immediately brings out the fact that Dalits themselves are not a homogeneous group. In a caste-ridden social order, Dalits too have their caste divisions, and arising from them hierarchical ordering too. Understandably, the distinctions arising from these tend to be region-specific, which makes it difficult to have a Dalit movement for the State as a whole. Gorringe notes that there are over 70 different Dalit organisations in Tamil Nadu. The largest is the DPI. The second largest is the Puthiya Thamizhagam (PT) with Krishnasamy as the leader, which, however, was the first to be started as Devendra Kula Vellalar Federation. The two represent two different Dalit castes and are active in two different regions of the State.

Apart from this primarily strategic issue, making caste as the basis of organising Dalits throws up a major question of principle. If the long-term objective is a casteless social order where every citizen is treated as equal in law (as enshrined in the Constitution), can the solidarity based on caste consideration be accepted as a means to move towards that goal? It is on this consideration that serious doubts are expressed as to whether sectoral movements and organisations, such as those of Dalits, strengthen or weaken democracy. This is one of the crucial aspects that Gorringe deals with and we shall get back to it shortly.

Once Dalits are organised to protect themselves and fight for their causes, they have to make clear their stand in relation to political processes and parties. In its initial years the DPI projected itself essentially as a movement to make Dalits proud of their identity, to ensure that Dalits have equal access to public spaces and resources and to convey that Dalits have autonomous organisations and their own areas of influence. “The identity of a slum or cheri that has affiliated itself to a Dalit movement is qualitatively different from one that remains unmoved by the struggle. Erecting the emblem of a movement in a place marks the end of obedience (though not necessarily the end of fear) and the beginning of an organised struggle against inequality”(Untouchable Citizens, page 201). During those early years the DPI detached itself from all political processes, almost with a vengeance, exhorting its members even to boycott elections. This was partly to protest against the tendency of the major parties to treat Dalits as mere “vote banks” much sought after during the election campaigns, but conveniently dumped after the elections are over.

This phase lasted only for a few years – a sort of preparatory stage that the Dravidian movement also passed through before entering the political arena. In 1996, Krishnasamy contested the elections and won. In 1999, the DPI entered into the political fray by contesting the parliamentary election, but failed to win the seat it contested. But the fact that Thirumavalavan got over two lakh votes against his formidable Pattali Makkal Katchi (PMK) rival Ponnusamy was a big morale-booster.

But the political path that was opened up has not been a smooth one. The Dravidian parties – the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam, the All India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam and the Marumalarchi Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam – may be willing to accommodate Dalits to some extent but view Dalit movements and parties as a challenge to their monopoly of power in the State. In the fluid “alliance politics” of Tamil Nadu, Dalit parties have not yet become positively attractive to any of the major players.

Dalits also have to clarify their view about the state and state power. In general, the Dalit position regarding the state is ambivalent. When they view state power via the police, they can only identify it with brute force, as an ally of their oppressors. When they think of the state in terms of the governing parties, they perceive it only as becoming increasingly antagonistic. At the same time, for many Dalits “the state is a vital resource in terms of government houses, jobs, college places and ration cards” (Untouchable Citizens, page 286). The decision to convert movements into political parties and contest the elections must be seen as a recognition that sharing state power is vital to the long-term interests of Dalits.

So, then, what is the contribution of the Dalit movements to what Gorringe refers to as the “democratistion of democracy” in Tamil Nadu and the country as a whole? There are those who consider Dalits and their movements as disruptive elements in society and hold their aggressiveness as being responsible for violence. It is also alleged that their concerns do not go beyond themselves and that their emphasis on caste is a threat to the secularist ethos that the country needs and is striving to cultivate. Gorringe’s approach is different. One of the women he interviewed detailed the difficulties they were facing day after day and said: “Instead of living like this and dying one by one we’d be better off attacking them (higher castes) or dying in the attempt” (Untouchable Citizens, page 232). If Dailts are the ones responsible for violence, it is desperation that drives them to it. Even when violence is initiated by others – and the evidence is that the vast majority of instances are of that kind – Dalits get blamed because of the general perception that they are “undesirable characters”. Dalits do resist violence against them, but only through resistance are they empowered. And let there be no hiding of the fact that Dalits are fighting, and fighting hard, for a legitimate share of the public space and of power.

If that fight is taking the form of identity politics, it is because politics overall is of that nature now, not a quest for the common good, but for power for specific groups, for their own welfare, though wrapped as the welfare of the nation. The shrill voices of Dalits (as opposed to their groans that “society” had become used to) and their aggressive political posturing are resented because these expose the sham that pervades our public life. In Tamil Nadu particularly, where the original radicalism of the Dravidian parties seems to have evaporated almost completely, Dalit resurgence is expanding the base of democratic contestation. It is thus contributing to a more critical civil society challenging political institutions to be accountable to it. In this sense, according to Gorringe, Dalit movements are deepening democracy and, indeed, constitute a cultural revolution.

Viswanathan’s report and Gorringe’s analysis of the condition of Dalits in Tamil Nadu make significant contribution to one’s understanding of a persisting social and political problem that is the reality of one out of five in the population. I strongly recommend a study of the two volumes.

Dalits in Dravidian Land – Frontline reports on anti-Dalit violence in Tamil Nadu (1995 – 2004) by S. Viswanathan, ; Navayana Publishing, Pondicherry, 2005; pages 318, Rs. 300.

Untouchable Citizens – Dalit Movements and Democratisation in Tamil Nadu by Hugo Gorringe, Sage Publications, New Delhi, 2005; pages 397, Rs. 750.

Keezhavenmani revisited

(Frontline) http://www.flonnet.com/fl2301/stories/20060127001608400.htm

S. VISWANATHAN

TIME, they say, is the best healer. But certain wounds, especially those that remain in the collective memory of a society, defy the saying. This was quite in evidence at a function held in Chennai on December 18 to mark the release of a documentary film, perhaps the first ever, on the massacre of 44 people, mostly women and children belonging to families of Dalit agricultural workers, nearly 40 years ago at Keezhavenmani village, 25 km from Nagappatttinam in Tamil Nadu.

The film, Ramiahvin Kudisai (The Hut of Ramiah), narrates how they were burnt alive in a hut where they had taken refuge. The story is told by some of the survivors, who break down, unable to contain their grief and anger, even after such a long time. It is a detailed account of the violence perpetrated by landlords intolerant of the growing strength of the agricultural workers’ movement in the region. Most of the invitees, who watched in silence the one-hour film produced by The Roots and directed by Bharathi Krishnakumar, were seen wiping their tears at the end of the screening.

Keezhavenmani has gone into the history of the country’s agrarian movement not only as an example of the supreme sacrifice of the toiling masses in their struggle for liberation from economic exploitation and social oppression, but also as a frightening reminder of the ruthless ways in which their oppressors try to protect vested interests. Thousands of people, including activists of the Left and Dalit parties, gather at the village on December 25 every year, the day on which the tragedy took place in 1968, to pay their respects at the martyrs’ memorial.

Strangely, however, the coverage of the incident in the mainstream newspapers was inadequate. The reports were even misleading in certain respects. For instance, many newspapers described the incident as a clash between two sections of kisans, or between two groups of agricultural workers, all for a wage hike of just half a measure of rice. The incident was apparently seen in isolation of the developments during the preceding months. The larger socio-economic aspects of it were by and large ignored. The documentary fills the gap to a great extent. It answers many questions, such as why and how the massacre happened and what roles the police, the State government and political parties played.

The documentary brings to light many a hidden fact through the personal accounts of some of the accused in the case relating to the arson, their close relatives, and a retired police official. The documentary, with the help of a lot of meticulously collected background material, presents the incident as part of the decades-long struggle by under-paid and under-fed agricultural workers for a better living. In this perspective, any study of the Keezhavenmani massacre has to be made in the light of the agrarian movement in the rice-rich undivided Thanjavur district during the preceding three decades.

THANJAVUR district, prior to its division, accounted for nearly 30 per cent of the State’s paddy production, thanks to its rich irrigation facilities. Thousands of acres of land were in the possession of temples, Hindu religious mutts and zamindars, a class of people created by the British to collect land revenues for the government. Thirty per cent of the cultivable land was in the possession of 5 per cent of the landholders. Fifty-five per cent of the temple and mutt lands were under the control of the cultivating tenants. There were also small and marginal farmers. The district had a large presence of agricultural workers, most of them Dalits who were treated as slaves (pannai adimaigal). Dalits were therefore oppressed both socially and economically. They suffered the worst forms of untouchability, being denied access to public wells, rivers, streets and temples.

It was under these circumstances that the communist movement struck root in the district. With agricultural workers being mostly Dalits and a significant number of marginal and small landholders being from the socially backward castes, the communists had to integrate the fight against economic oppression and social oppression with the cooperation of both these sections. Under the guidance of leaders such as A.K. Gopalan, B. Srinivasa Rao and Manali C. Kandasami, the communists first organised the cultivating tenants, who were at the mercy of zamindars, temples and mutts, and then agricultural workers. Long struggles by them for protection from eviction led to the abolition of the zamindari system with the adoption of the Tamil Nadu Estates (Abolition and Conversion into Ryotwari) Act, 1948; the Tanjore Pannaiyal Protection Act, 1952 (later repealed) and the Tamil Nadu Tenants Protection Act, 1955.

The Tamil Nadu Cultivating Tenants (Payment of Fair Rent) Act, 1956, was meant to ensure that the tenants paid a fair rent. With the abolition of the zamindari system, a new class of marginal farmers emerged, besides the small farmers. Similarly, the mechanisation of agriculture that came with large allotment of funds for agriculture in the First Five-Year Plan brought in the daily-wage earners. In the 1950s a Minimum Wages Act fixing wages for farm workers came into being. The communist agricultural workers’ unions demanded agreements on payment of wages for both cultivation and harvest periods. In the 1960s, thanks to developments such as border wars, steep fall in food production and certain actions of the Union government, such as, devaluation of the Indian rupee in 1966, there was a spurt in prices of agricultural commodities giving fillip to demands for higher wages in several places. A separate organisation for championing the cause of agricultural workers were later formed.

The peasant movement in the State also agitated for reducing the concentration of land in the hands of a few by fixing a ceiling on holdings and for redistributing the surplus land among the landless agricultural workers. The Tamil Nadu Land Reforms (Fixation of Ceiling) Act, 1961, came into being. It is another matter that the Act, riddled with loopholes, ensured that not much land was declared as surplus.

Before achieving these, however, the tenants, small and marginal landholders and agricultural workers had to confront the money power and political influence of the landowners at several levels. The confrontation often led to violence and loss of lives. The police were invariably on the side of the landowners. Many people, including some frontline leaders, were killed in police firings. Interestingly, in the early years of the agitations for increased wages, agricultural workers and agriculturists signed wage accords in the presence of the police. The workers intensified their struggles when landholders refused to pay the wages agreed upon and threatened to replace them with workers from other places.

The Paddy Producers Association, a militant organisation of landholders, emerged. The association not only refused to pay higher wages but also threatened landholders intent on implementing the wage accord with dire consequences. In 1966, the union organised rallies and a strike in the district demanding appointment of a tripartite committee. But the Congress government in the State refused to yield. Next year, the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK) came to power in alliance with the Communist Party of India (Marxist). The union renewed the plea for a tripartite committee to settle the wage issue, but the DMK government also was in no mood to accept it. However, following the death in police firing of a union worker who was trying to protect the union flag from attack allegedly by the men of landlords at Poonthazhangudi village on October 6, 1967, the State government convened a tripartite conference at Mannargudi, which fixed the wages for the short-term crop. It was valid only for a year. Meanwhile, the Nagappattinam taluk unit of the Paddy Producers Association came under the control of Irinjur Gopalakrishna Naidu, a landlord, who formed a brigade of volunteers allegedly to oppress the workers through intimidation, undertake harvest operations, and let loose terror.

THIS was the situation when the Keezhavenmani carnage happened. The major issue was the refusal of landlords to yield to the agricultural workers’ demand for higher wages since the earlier agreement had lapsed. The workers demanded six litres of paddy for every 48 litres harvested, but the Paddy Producers Association did not agree. Wherever workers insisted on the higher wage, the association arranged for carrying out harvest operations with “outside” labour in violation of the understanding between the disputants under earlier wage accords.

K.BARANIDHARAN

A glass urn containing the remains of the victims, collected a few days after the incident by freedom fighter I. Maayandi Bharathi. The urn is now kept at the memorial for the victims at Keezhavenmani.

Wherever the landlord offered to pay higher wages, the Producers Association protested and warned of counter action. The association allegedly threatened the agricultural workers in Keezhavenmani around December 10 that their huts would be torched. Leaders of agricultural workers said that the taluk secretary of the CPI(M) and party legislator K.R. Gnanasambandan had written to the State Chief Secretary about the threat and asked for protection to them. (But a communication from the Chief Secretary, however, reportedly stated that the legislator’s letter had reached him only in January.) Both the letters were of no avail.

The apprehensions of the labour leaders were proved right on December 25. The Hindu‘s lead story on December 27, 1968, reported that 42 persons, mostly Harijans (as Dalits were called then), were burnt alive on the night of December 25, and that the gruesome incident followed a clash between two groups of kisans. It said: “Twenty-five huts in all were burnt to ashes. The victims are said to have taken refuge in a hut, which was among those destroyed.” The report gives the information that the landowners refused to concede the demand of “Marxist kisans” that they be paid a harvest wage of six litres of paddy and went ahead with harvesting that day engaging labour from a neighbouring village. When these “outside” workers were returning after work in the evening, the report said, “a group of about 200 persons attacked them, armed with deadly weapons”. In the clash that followed, Pakkirisami Pillai, a farm worker, sustained stab injuries, which proved fatal. The “outside” workers ran away and the attacking mob chased them. According to the report, around 10 p.m., another group of about 200 persons were said to have marched to Keezhavenmani, where a clash followed. Gunshots were also heard during this clash. Twenty-five houses were set on fire. The inmates of huts ran out and were said to have taken refuge in a single hut, which was among those burnt down, the report said. Nineteen persons injured in both the clashes were hospitalised. The report said that Gopalakrishna Naidu was among those taken into custody. The report refers briefly to the kisan trouble in East Thanjavur district for two months.

Although a police station was within 5 km from the village, the police came to the spot hours after the incidents. Senior police officials reportedly came only the next morning. Despite prohibitory orders, hundreds of people visited the village.

Chief Minister C.N. Annadurai observed: “The incident is so savage and gruesome that words fail me to express my agony and anguish” and deputed two Ministers, M. Karunanidhi and S. Madhavan, to visit the village and report to him. The eighth congress of the CPI(M), then being held in Kochi, expressed its shock over “the inhuman act of vandalism of the landlords’ goondas” and directed P. Ramamurti, member of the party’s Polit Bureau and Member of Parliament, K.R. Gnanasambandam, member of the Tamil Nadu Assembly, to rush to the village. Ramamurti visited the village and later held discussions with the Chief Minister.

Two days later, Annadurai announced that a one-man commission, headed by Justice Ganapathia Pillai, would inquire “into the problems of agricultural labour, the relationship between the labourer and the landlord, and connected issues in East Thanjavur”. Another immediate action taken by the government was to bifurcate the Thanjavur police district and appoint Walter Devaram Superintendent of Police for East Thanjavur with Nagapattinam as headquarters.

Protest meetings and demonstrations by workers of the Left parties were held all over the State. Leaders condemned the massacre and the police administration’s failure to protect the lives of the poor Dalit agricultural workers.

B.T. Ranadive, CPI(M) Polit Bureau member, wrote in a long article on the tragedy in the party’s official organ People’s Democracy, in its January 12, 1969 issue: “It must be stated that had the DMK Ministry been alert, the wage question could have been settled long ago. But blackmailed by Congress propaganda about the breakdown of law and order, and pressurised by the landlords within its own party, the Ministry allowed things to drag on thereby encouraging the latter’s offensive against the workers.” He stated that the DMK Ministry could not escape the guilt of connivance at the growing crimes of the landlords. “In the last few months at least three murders of leaders of agricultural workers had taken place and neither the Ministry nor the local police had taken any action to counter this campaign of murder and terror and bring the criminals to justice,” wrote Ranadive. The veteran Marxist also gave a graphic account of what he saw at Keezhavenmani when he visited the village a few days after the tragedy.

A long article by D. Pandian in the official organ of the Communist Party of India (CPI) also threw more light on the tragic incident. He wrote: “The latest mass murder of women and children is the continuation of this reign of terror of mirasdars [landlords]. All these murders took place in a taluk where special police reinforcement is sent to `protect the crops’ according to the Ministry. And, yet on December 25, at about 7 p.m. this savagery was enacted with impunity.” He said that the police went there only around 10 a.m. the next day only to collect the charred remains of the victims. “The mirasdars set fire to the hut and butchered the innocent victims; the police completed the `cremation’,” the article said.

“From all evidence,” Pandian wrote, “it is clear that it was a pre-planned, calculated murder.” He also faulted the State government for its “callousness and failure to protect the kisans, poor Harijans, even after a series of murders in the area.”

THE documentary, succeeds to a fairly large extent in revoking the memories of the mass murder as one of the most heinous crimes against women and children, by recreating the mood of that fateful night and restating the tales of woe of those less fortunate and deprived sections of the people by their survivors and those who stood by them in those hours of crisis in their own words. It goes further and makes some bold statements by going deeper into the issues involved.

For instance, it attempts to establish that the massacre of the innocents was an `avoidable’ crime. It adduces evidence to show that had the government acted on the alerts from the kisan and labour leaders about the threats from the landlords and their henchmen, the carnage could have been averted.

A letter to the Chief Secretary from Gnanasambandam, written 15 days before the incident reportedly reached its destination late – around January 5,1969. Another appeal to the government from legislators such as N. Sankariah to convene a meeting of the Assembly to discuss the worsening situation in respect of relations between agricultural workers and a section of landlords failed to provoke any response. A warning from Ramamurti to the State government that if the activities of the Paddy Producers Association president were not checked by the police and the administration, the agricultural workers’ organisation also might have to think of an army of volunteers to protect themselves as had been done by Gopalakrishna Naidu was also of no avail. In the process of revealing this, the documentary raises questions about the policy of the then DMK government in using the police while dealing with issues relating to labour and also about a possible nexus between the police and the landlords. What results is an expose of the government’s inefficiency in managing crises.

Another aspect that is highlighted by Krishnakumar’s short film is the unbelievable attachment of the people of that little village not only to their soil but also to the movement that grew with them in that region. Ignoring threats to their lives and casting aside offers of allurement, an affected person states in the documentary that they refused to pull down the flags and switch sides. Nor did they accept the offer to be resettled in a nearby village. The documentary also exposes the weakness of the judicial system. One of the accused in the main mass murder case confesses how he could escape punishment by claiming alibi with the help of an obliging doctor. (Although 10 of the accused, all landlords, were convicted and sentenced to 10 years’ imprisonment, the High Court quashed the sentence on appeal and the Supreme Court confirmed it.)

A striking contribution of the documentary is perhaps that it highlights the point that the fight for liberation from economic exploitation and social oppression has necessarily to be an integrated one and Dalit liberation is inseparably linked to the fight against exploitation of all sorts, which many of the interviewees vouchsafed for from their own experience in East Thanjavur.

Tumblers of bias

(Frontline) http://www.flonnet.com/fl2506/stories/20080328250603700.htm

S. VISWANATHAN

BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

In Udamalpet on March 5, activists of various organisations, including Left parties, staging a demonstration condemning the Salarappatti attacks on Dalits. INTOLERANT of Dalit resistance to the continuing practice of untouchability, caste Hindus of Salarappatti in Coimbatore district, Tamil Nadu, have let loose a reign of terror in the village. Thirteen Dalits, including women and children, were injured in a mob attack on February 18. The Dalits had just then returned after participating in a demonstration against discrimination at nearby Udumalpet and were caught unawares. The 500-strong mob descended on the Dalits with sickles, sticks and iron rods and attacked every Dalit house. They burnt down three huts and a haystack.

The police force, which had been deployed in the village in view of the prevailing tension, was a mute witness to the attack, the local people said. Dalit political parties, the Communist Party of India (Marxist), the Communist Party of India and the Periyar Dravidar Kazhagam staged a massive demonstration in protest against the attack and demanded severe action against the culprits. They also called for relief operations without delay.

The February 18 incident was the culmination of strained relations between Dalits, most of them from the Arunthathiyar sub-sect, and caste Hindu Vanniars for about a month.

It all started when the owners of some teashops objected to some Dalits, all from neighbouring villages, sitting on the benches in front of their shops and refused to serve them tea. The Dalits, who were there to attend a funeral, were shocked to know that all teashops in the village were under the control of caste Hindus and that they practised untouchability in serving tea – in disposable cups for Dalits and glass tumblers for others. (The two-tumbler system, as it is known, is one of the numerous forms of untouchability practised despite the law banning it.)

The visiting Dalits spread the word about the practice and the Athi Thamizhar Peravai, a Dalit organisation, took up the issue with the Udumalpet police. In turn, caste Hindus, angry that the issue had been taken to the police, asked all the 13 teashops in the village to shut down.

Explaining the developments that followed, K. Karuppasami (42), who works in a sugar factory near the village, told Frontline that caste Hindus of the village had decided on a social and economic boycott of Dalits there. This brought many hardships to Dalits, most of whom are agricultural workers. A few were employed in textile and sugar factories in the region. Although most of the non-Dalits in the village were only agricultural workers, they could influence the non-Dalit landowners in neighbouring villages to refuse work to Dalits of Salarappatti. Dalits were also denied services such as hair cuts and access to local shops.

Peace meeting

When the complaint was lodged with the police on February 7, the station authorities gave them only a receipt and did not file a First Information Report (FIR). Later, the police arranged a peace meeting of Dalits and non-Dalits at the police station on February 15. When teashop owners said they were prepared to serve tea to all in disposable cups, Dalits demanded that both Dalits and non-Dalits be served in glass or steel tumblers. This was not acceptable to the others and so there was no accord.

The revenue official representing the government said the matter could be sorted out later. At the meeting Dalits also demanded that they be allowed to enter the local temple and make use of the community hall in the village. The hall had been built with public funds allotted to the local Member of Parliament, Dr. C. Krishnan of the Marumalarchi Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (MDMK), under the Constituency Improvement Scheme. (Krishnan, representing the Pollachi reserved parliamentary constituency, was yet to visit the affected village.)

As the non-Dalits were opposed to it, no decision could be taken at the peace meeting. Given the tension in the village, a posse of policemen was posted there. The day before the meeting, the owners of two teashops attempted to open their shops but caste Hindus assaulted them and prevented them from doing so.

Karuppasami said that after the meeting failed the Athi Thamizhar Peravai called for a demonstration at Udumalpet on February 18 to press their demands. Salarappatti’s Dalits responded in a big way to the Peravai’s call but when they returned home they had to confront the caste Hindu mob.

Karuppasami said the attack came in two spells. First, on the evening of February 18 two Dalit youth were beaten up near a temple by a group of caste Hindus who said their presence near the temple raised suspicion. This was followed by the attack on Dalit residents and their houses.

Velammal (80), a Dalit woman who was hit by a stone during the attack, said her house was badly damaged. She lamented that her life’s savings had been lost and said the attackers did not spare even the elderly and children. Another woman resident said an eight-year-old boy was among those injured. She said some women attackers carried lathis of the kind that policemen used.

Speaking to the affected Dalits after distributing relief materials, R. Athiyaman, president, Tamil Nadu Athi Thamizhar Peravai, identified three distinct features of the mob assault: for the first time women and children formed part of the caste Hindu attack force; women and children were among the victims; caste Hindus entered schools, pulled out Dalit pupils and beat them up.

Athiyaman said caste Hindus told the school authorities not to allow Dalit children to attend classes. “They are intolerant of our boys and girls getting education,” he said.

C. Govindasami, leader of the CPI(M) Legislature Party, said that when he visited the village a day after the attack, the victims told him that caste Hindus had imposed an economic blockade on them. He said they complained that caste Hindus foiled their attempts to get work in other places and also prevented their children from attending schools.

Govindasami told mediapersons later that the police presence was not adequate. Had they taken precautions, the incident could have been averted. Athiyaman also blamed the police for their inaction.

Thanks to the intervention of the District Collector, Neeraj Mittal, who visited the village on February 20, a substantial number of Dalits had been provided jobs under the National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme. He said the community hall was very much a public property and everybody should have access to it

The significance of the Salarappatti Dalits’ struggle is that it is possibly the largest manifestation of Dalit assertion in the western districts of the State in the recent years. Another notable point is that the Arunthathiars, the third largest Dalit sub-sect in Tamil Nadu after the Paraiyars and the Pallars, have their highest concentration in the western districts.

The Dalit uprising of the 1990s, which involved the Paraiyars and the Pallars in the northern and southern districts respectively, did not have much of an impact in the western districts. The spread of Dalit consolidation to this region is an indication of the emergence of a new socio-political line-up comprising Dalit movements, the Left parties and the Periarist radicals of the Dravidian movement. A massive demonstration in support of the demands of Salarappatti’s Dalits, organised by Periyar Dravidar Kazhagam with the support of the Athi Thamizhar Peravai and in which all major Dalit organisations and the Left participated, stands testimony to this.•