Discrimination eva jayate

Pakur is one of the six districts of Santhal Pargana commissionary in the state of Jharkhand. Santhal Pargana was named after the Santhals — the major Adivasi community of this region. In Pakur district, the importance of the Santhal population — grouped in the Scheduled Tribe (ST) category — can be gauged from the fact that two of the three Vidhan Sabha seats in Pakur district are reserved for ST candidates. Yet, nearly all year round, Santhals migrate from Pakur or are trafficked to faraway places.

At the exit gate of Pakur railway station, there used to hang a panel with the names of all the members of the station advisory board. There were mostly Hindus, high caste or influential caste Bengalis and Biharis — a Pandey (Brahmin), a Chatterjee (Brahmin), a Ghosh (Brahmin), if Bengali; Gwala (if Bihari). A few Muslims. But there was not a single Santhal on the list. No Dalit as well. No Turi (the bamboo basket-weaving Phul Dome caste) or Mareya (the ironsmith caste). The rural Muslims, called “Chasa”, meaning farmers, whose men — like Santhals — go to work in Mumbai or Hyderabad or at stone quarries, and whose women roll beedis to support their families and earn their dowries, didn't find representation on that advisory board either.

The Santhals and the Chasa are, in my opinion, the ones who make the most use of the railways, though most of them travel in general compartments, packed like chickens in a poultry cage.

A former district collector, a Rajput man, set up a sports body comprising wealthy Hindu Savarna men who run several businesses, stone quarries, etc. None of them has the remotest connection with sports. This sports body organises a marathon on January 25 and August 14 each year. The collector, the superintendent of police and other high officials of the district inaugurate the marathon and rich Savarna men tower over the proceedings though no Savarna participates in this marathon.

Most runners are young, sinewy Santhal men from the villages, many of whom run on bare feet. They are the ones who stand first. Yet, at the time of the prize distribution, the Savarna “sportsmen” herd Adivasi runners into lines, shouting at them: “Do you want the snacks box or not?” and “Do you want the free towel or not?” The winner of the marathon is not discussed any more.

At the local court, from the anecdotes the Savarna judges narrate about their posting in Naxal-infested districts, it is clear that they determined the crime of an alleged Naxalite — a Munda or Ho youth, usually — by the community he belonged to.

In school once a Brahmin male teacher, just out of context, asked me: “You are ST?” I was 12 years old then. My father had had the foresight to instil deep in my mind: “We are Adivasis. ST. Never forget.” I answered: “Yes, sir. I am ST.”

Another teacher, a Sikh woman, had a son who was in the same class as me and often picked fights with me. In retaliation, I gave it back to him. The matter went to the teacher, who then sermonised me: “Children of good families never fight. Children of sweepers fight.”

I wanted to tell her that I was a doctor’s son growing up inside a hospital campus. I knew well the lives of those people the caste-obsessed majority calls “sweepers”, and that no child of any “sweeper” had ever fought with me. Instead, children of respectable Savarna officers were the ones who teased me. Yet, I stayed quiet. I was about nine then, and even at that age, I realised my envied position as an Adivasi living the privileged life of the only child of two working parents and attending an English-medium convent school.

Some time ago, a medical college celebrated its golden jubilee. Photos and videos from the event posted on Facebook showed only Savarnas-Savarnas compering, giving speeches, backslapping each other in their comments. There was no SC (Scheduled Caste), ST, BC (Backward Caste), and OBC (Other Backward Caste) alumnus or teacher.

How did such an important event become a Savarna-only party? At the same medical college, an SC woman gynaecologist, while talking to a housesurgeon about an ST woman gynaecologist at a different medical college, said: “That lady’s so beautiful; it’s unbelievable she’s a tribal!” Upon realising that the house-surgeon too was an ST, the SC woman gynaecologist was tongue-tied.

DPS — Discrimination, Prejudice, Stereotyping — they exist. Whether it is by the Savarnas against the marginalised, or by those marginalised in privileged positions against the other marginalised.

In India, despite the rhetoric of equality and pluralism, “DPS-eva Jayate”.

Hansda Sowvendra Shekhar is a medical officer with the government of Jharkhand. He is the author of The Mysterious Ailment of Rupi Baskey (2014) and The Adivasi Will Not Dance (2015)