Caste A compilation of essays on the role of hierarchies in Indian society is well-timed and a valuable reference book
A660page compilation of essays on a hotbutton issue, by academic experts from India and abroad, The
Oxford Handbook of Caste could not have been timed better. Its publication fortuitously coincided with the political buzz generated by Bihar’s caste census followed by the Bharat Ratna for its social justice pioneer Karpoori Thakur. Though this treasure trove omits to mention Thakur, let alone his impact on the Hindi belt, one of its 42 essays is titled “Census, Caste Enumeration and the British Legacy”.
Since its focus is, however, on tracing the colonial history of the caste census until the last one that took place in 1931, this essay has nothing about the abortive attempt to revive such enumeration at the national level in the 2011 census, a precursor to the ground broken by Bihar in bringing out its report in 2023. Similar is the omission of any reference to Karpoori Thakur, a member of the lowly caste of Nais or barbers, despite at least two essays being devoted to reservations. One of those essays is specifically on the concept of “backwardness”, the very context in which the former Bihar chief minister happened to be posthumously honoured for introducing reservations in 1978 for not only “other backward classes” (which included dominant castes from among Shudras) but also “most backward classes” (which included some Muslim categories).
Ambitious effort
To be fair, the omission of such topical aspects of caste does not detract from
Edited by Surinder S. Jodhka, Jules Naudet
Oxford University Press
₹999
the credit due to its editors, Surinder S. Jodhka and Jules Naudet, for this ambitious compendium. Topicality can hardly be the yardstick for evaluating a book that is clearly for the ages. Even so, its staggering range of essays does include other topical aspects of caste. Take the section of five essays labelled “Caste and the Religious Realm”, a subject that has gained greater traction in the wake of the Ayodhya temple inauguration. While one of those essays deals with “Hinduism and Caste System”, another delves into “Caste and Hindutva”.
The Hindutvarelated essay authored by American anthropologist Joel Lee could well be taken as representative of the quality of the insights offered by the compendium. Lee brings out three texts that
“illuminate the role played by caste” in shaping both the ideology and practice of Hindu nationalism.
The first is A Dying Race, a pamphlet composed in 1909 by retired military officer U.N. Mukerji. To begin with, based on “an uncritical reading” of the previous decennial census, Mukerji concluded that the rate of increase of Hindus compared with that of Muslims was “extremely small”. And then, the bulk of the pamphlet was devoted to what he diagnosed as the ultimate cause of Hindu diminution: “our caste system”. In Mukerji’s view, caste was “an insuperable bar” to the attainment of the kind of unity and solidarity that was exemplified by Muslims.
The Hindu angle
Lee writes: “In conjoining an argument animated by the enumerative logic of the modern state, a narrative of Hindus threatened by Muslim growth, and a naming of caste division as an existential threat to the Hindu ‘race’, Mukerji articulated a discourse from which Hindu nationalism has continued to draw ever since.”
This is borne out by the text that followed in 1926, Hindu Sangathan: Savior of the Dying Race. Its author Swami Shraddhanand, an Arya Samaj and Congress leader, proposed a Hindu consolidation by replacing the problems. The texts are conversational, informal and filled with everyday reflections. With same gusto, she could shock people with her frankness and also show empathy with her literary preoccupations.
Lessons for feminists
The doyenne of Urdu literature was ahead of her times. Chughtai’s towering status as thinkerwriter endeared her to her followers. The
Translated from the Urdu by Tahira Naqvi Women Unlimited
₹625 multitude of castes on the ground with the fourfold Varna system valourised by the scriptures. A corollary to such a “return” to an idealised Vedic past was a switch from birth to “character and conduct” as criteria for determining one’s Varna.
The most influential text is of course V.D. Savarkar’s Hindutva: Who is a Hindu? published in 1923. Savarkar too prized the Varna system although it undermined his contention in the same text that Hindus constituted a single race. If he believed in the “common flow of blood from a Brahmin to a Chandal”, it was because he held that all that the Varna system had done was to “regulate its noble blood”. This is how Joel Lee summed up Savarkar’s endorsement of miscegenation: “Noble blood, that is, is a gift of the higher Varnas to the lower, retained and distributed according to judicious principles favouring the overall health of the race.”
Such fascinating content notwithstanding, it’s not an easy book to read. This is not only because of the sheer volume of information packed into it or the inherent complexity of the subject. The essays are all by academics and for academics – so they tend to be theoretical and abstruse. As the editors put it, they tried to provide “a comprehensive account of the available social science research” on caste in the hope that it would “help orient future research”. All the same, even for laypersons, this tome is a reference book of immense value.
Topicality can hardly be the yardstick for evaluating a book that is clearly for the ages. Even so, its staggering range of essays does include other topical aspects of caste
The reviewer is the author of the recently published Caste Pride: Battles for Equality in Hindu India. interviews about her life and work are marked by truthfulness, honesty and spontaneity and her audacious approach when she was charged with obscenity for her story Lihaaf and other strident writings, is a learning for all those who embrace feminism, socialism and secularism.
Included in the carefully curated collection is an unposted letter to actor Saira Bano whom she reprimands for her failure to fight like a wild cat for her rights when her marriage with Dilip Kumar was failing. Chughtai’s advice, “don’t make people pity you”, underlines her dislike for women sacrificing or succumbing to societal pressures.
Taken together, her letters of encouragement to friends or family to cheer them up during partition or her angry exchanges with Urdu editors in India and Pakistan over joblessness and violence, her endearing deals with her grandson over movie time, detailing her visits to villages, capture reality and provide a collective update on history. The reader’s assessment of Ismat Chughtai, a fiercely independent and selfassured woman who told things the way they were, can only be further illuminated because reading her is a journey to reason, much like her life.