Hi-caste lo-caste we no want all..!

High class low class we no want all
Everyone equal and god decide all..

I am reminded of that early 90s (was it Apache Indian?) song when I hear people say "everyone is equal", and all that matters (and should matter) is merit. Treat everyone equally, and that ends all discrimination in the world. Some more romantic ones go on to add that "Love doesn't see caste and religion." I used to think so too, at least for some period in my life. So I feel obliged to write this.

* * *

[Achnowledgments: A first draft of this write-up happened as a comment at one blog post by Ratheesh, and I used a slightly modified version while commenting on another post, by my friend Maymon. I strongly recommend going through Maymon's post and a comment there by Anu in response to it. I am thankful to Amit and Vinita whose comments there inspired me to work on this. Even now it looks incomplete -- you are welcome to take it up from here and add your share. Thanks in advance.]

* * *

Like in many Keralite 'Communist' families, I was also brought up with a belief that caste did not exist in Kerala any more. But as I grew up, I could smell the rot around. I heard even progressive people in my close surroundings (who I respected otherwise) making fun of a `parayan' or `pulayan' who got to a position of power (in the recent past there was a critique of an old Malayalam short story by C V Sreeraman on similar lines.)

I have the advantage and disadvantage of having born into an 'in-between' caste (OBC) and growing up in a fairly backward village/town in Kerala. In my school and college I had many friends from dalit and other backward communities, but when I went to engineering college, the difference was stark. `Quota' people suddenly became outsiders. I felt bad about it, but I could not escape it.


[image courtesy: People and Politics Worldwide India]

During my M.Tech. time I was shocked when a friend's mother (who is also very `progressive') advised me that it is ok to find a girl of your choice, just make sure that she is not a pattika or kazhukkol. (In Malayalam, scheduled castes/scheduled tribes are `pattika jathi/pattika vargam')

Even as I felt shocked at that comment, I realized that the way our society is designed, it is unlikely that I'd go for a pattika. (I had a crush on a fair Iyengar girl at that time). Even my dalit male friends have complained that it is difficult to find a good girl in their community, because they are all dark. Even in Tamil films, the heroine is essentially of the fairer kind even as she sings `Karupputhaan enakku pidicha kalaru` ('black is the colour I like..' as you'd have guessed, the hero is dark).

I still work with such issues internally, even though my beauty concepts have changed quite a lot over years. ('Karinguttayi' was one deregatory reference to colour -- used only to refer to the parayan or pulayan -- that has stayed in my memory from the childhood days.)

It is not just the skin colour -- I, like many others, often ended up judging people ('discriminating' is a bit too harsh, I know) based one one's fluency in English (or language in general), staying `calm' in a debate, even the confidence levels with which one speaks. (These qualities come much easier to those who are born in `upper' castes. That also I realized much late in my life, thanks to the `non-discriminatory' childhood. Not that I have completely stopped my judgements.)

It has not been easy working on the discriminatory elements in oneself, and trying to find out how others work on it. One may not have the energy for that always, but I have tried that whenever I could. People do change over time. Even if I am most comfortable with people from same/similar communities.

It is not that I have something against others. But at times, we can feel the distance. For instance, one person asked after reading Maymon's post: 'Lol! This guy does not want to reveal his identity, then why does he support reservations based on that identity? Thats what I understood after reading this post..' (I am not making this up).

How all can we address this issue in public spaces is sure complicated. A lawyer friend was saying in their law college in Bangalore, they fought and achieved a system where the names (of reserved category students) were not listed separately. It is debatable how much would that help. I feel it is more important to bring about an awareness that reservations are not a favour that we (when I speak as an `upper caste') do to some people, it is something that is essential and beneficial to all of us in many ways.

[Shall I say, to be continued..?]

Me and Sree

(I wrote most part of this note on Jan 1, in a personal e-mail addressed to a few friends. I have edited it a bit, have added the experiences of the days that went by in the new year, and have also tried to address the kind of direct and indirect reactions to that note.)

Myself and Sreejitha have been trying to live together for four years now. It was difficult for us as it is for any two persons. Both us put a lot of efforts to pull it through despite differences, we stretched ourselves to accommodate each other and define a space together for the two of us (and later for the three of us). And now we have reached a point when we feel it is in the best interests of the relationship that we live in separate spaces.

It was my decision more than Sreejitha's, as it had become near impossible for me to live in such a physical space, putting in a lot of energy into that relationship, since I felt I did not have much space in this relationship at this moment.

Yes, one thing we still talked was the household. And I do not want to undermine the importance of managing the household. But I felt I could manage the household better if I did not live with Sreejitha. I could cook more often, I could wash my own clothes.. because I do not have to spend a lot of energy trying to sync myself with another person who is more or less completely living in a different world.

I have spent four years spending so much of my time and energy in this relationship, and let me add that I do not regret that. I think I have gained a lot from this relationship, as did Sree. In fact, I do feel good that we have reached a point where Sreejitha has become more of a person (in her own choice of words). This is a point when I can afford to think of leaving her to herself.

One reaction that Sree got was that "one should invest in the relationship". To that I would ask, is a relationship only about being together? Is it not possible that a relationship fares better when separated physically? That two people can understand each other better, understand where the relationship stays now and understand where can these two people go forward from here?

I know there are many people who do stay together in even more stagnated stages, but it is just that I do not find it worth two lives. I do not consider this parting of ways an end of the relationship, nor do I want to call it a 'break-up'. We did not want our love and respect for each other to make way for intolerance and irritation with each other. We felt this is how the relationship can grow from where we were, and from my experience of the last few days I can tell you that this has indeed been the case. I am happy with that.

At some point we may get back to staying with each other again. Till then, let us both take separate courses in life. (pun intended).

Don't be jealous.

Yours
Sudeep

None of them is me (Female voice - Lyrics)

(at least as of now)
i can not be what i am
i can not just be me
i'm asked to play out a number of roles
none of them is me
so at least as of now
let me play out those roles
and do that in style..

stay away from me
stay away from me
i'd rather not have you near
when i can not be me

(i can take a back-seat
show cold storage to dreams
it sure does burn me, but
i will pretend it does not)

i love you dear, but the world won't let me have you
i love you dear, but reality kills me
i am dead, but i don't want you to die
and
i can't stand you seeing me die..

i can feel the pain
that you are through
but there will be a time
when you come to terms with it
and then come out of it..
(i know, with some deep wound scars
that make good identity marks..)

leave me to burn alone
leave me on my own
i have to be cruel to tell
don't care for me..

i love you dear, but the world won't let me have you
i love you dear, but reality kills me
i am dead, but i don't want you to die
i am dead, and i want you alive..

(for R)

Yaarana

It was like meeting a long-lost childhood friend.

Each time it happens, it feels like a first time.

This time, I sat down to write a paper-and-ink letter. Put it in a red letterbox in front of a post office.

I know it's going to take many days to reach my friend. But I find it worth.

I can feel the high I am on. I can also remember the times when I have felt such highs before. I remember my friends with gratitude. They make this life worth living.

Responsibility of Deaths

On Feb 28 I learn about the demise of Ronald Rebello. He was 25. I am shocked. I, like many others, remember him largely through his letters to the editors ("I am a Human Rights Activist and a regular Letter Writer with special interest in Adivasi struggles and Justice issues..", he introduces himself in his blog). I also remember a mailing list that remained active because of him. RIP Ronald, and RIP manavbachao!


My mother A V Pushparjini is taken to the ICU of Elite Mission Hospital, Thrissur on March 3, where she is declared dead on March 6 evening. That death has made me older. It makes me reflect on a variety of things, and puts some responsibilities on me. (Sreejitha says she feels the same.) I also feel her closer to me than ever before. Sans the barriers of this world, sans the social and familial pressures.. now I can love her as much as I want. So can Sreejitha.


March 14: Police open fire at local people at Nandigram, West Bengal. (I read about it in the newspapers the next day morning. I feel numb). Official statement by the WB Government says 14 died in the firing. The reports coming in from Nandigram puts the death toll above 50.


On March 19 newspapers carry the news of Pak Cricket Coach Bob Woolmer found dead in his hotel room in Jamaica. It disturbs me.


A mail from a friend dated March 20 says,

"Com M Iqbal, a former leader of SBI employees, former councilor of Kochi Corporation, a well known writer and theoretician on music, grand son of the first malayalam gazal singer Sara Gul Muhammed passed away this morning due to a heart attack. his body will be cremated tomorrow morning 11 AM at Mattanchery.."

The mail gives links to Iqbal's orkut profile and homepage. In his orkut profile he says,
"about me: love music, art and literature. feel all human are one."

His sons have put up a note on his profile now.

[On googling I find an older obituary: "Multi-lingual singer of yesteryears, Sara Gul Mohammed, (83), died here on Monday (Feb 23, 1998). A childhood friend of the legendary singer, M S Subbulakshmi, Sara, who began singing at the age of nine, is stated to have had the distinction of being the first woman to have her songs recorded on gramophone. Her talent was first spotted by her mentor Gul Mohammed, whom she married later.."]


By the time I got back to the world of internet and the world of friends everywhere, I am caught in a web of deaths.

And I learn that every death puts some responsibility on me. On Sreejitha. And on each of us.

[This post was inspired by a poem that Sreejitha wrote, in Malayalam]

Oru Snehabandhatthin..

Mother died on March 6.

She is now with me more than she ever was.

Below is a favourite song of hers. I remember her singing it very often in our younger days. She identified very much with this song. Of a lady who went searching for love but never found it. If anyone remembers the missing two lines, please fill in.

Chitra's little puzzles of life

I landed on Chitra's cartoon blog yesterday, and I was impressed.

[The strips featured here are licenced under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs2.5 License].

Of a Dead Youth

"of a dead youth:
why?

an essentially de-politicised childhood, we all share.

history, not very interesting topic.

cocacola, why not?

poor? do they exist?
(yes, i saw the photos on a forwarded mail..
really sad.)

from life?
we want freedom, money, love.."

Its time.. so Gargi has decided to break silence.

Onam day: My Snake charmer friend Jetson

His friends call him Paampu Velayuthan (meaning a snake-charmer) but Jetson is not quite a snake charmer in the sense that we understand that word. People call him when they find a snake, he comes and catches it, and leaves it back in nearby forests. He says he got to snakes as he wanted to do "something different", and snakes because they were around us but everyone was scared of them. "I wanted to change the people's attitude towards snakes, and give a message that they are just like any other living being". He seems to have succeeded in it to an extent, and there are people now who make a call to him before trying to kill the snake with whatever means they could find (I have seen people killing a snake hitting it with a branch and then pouring kerosene and burning it, it was a dreary scene. Ugly memories remain more clear, says Japanese author Yasunari Kawabata in Thousand Cranes).

Last month when I went to Kerala on a long weekend (Tuesday was Independence day, Wednesday was Janmashtami, so if you take off on Monday it was a five-day long weekend, isn't it tempting?) my Maharashtrian friend came with me. He wanted to do something exciting. I checked with my friends in Kerala, who told me that most trekking places in Kerala are difficult doing in monsoons. I didn't want to disappoint my friend, I called Jetson's house. His mother asked a number of questions about my whereabouts and why I called him, apparently to make sure it is not one of those "snake calls".

Jetson is now taking the snakes more seriously and is planning to do a research on Indian snakes. (Naturally, his folks are a bit worried). The 23-year old can be reached at jetson_for_animals at yahoo dot co dot in.

Excitement

I am all excited to receive a mail from a friend of mine. The mail shares the hardships and excitements involved in trying to set up a women's space (and place) in Kerala. About the patriarchy and crap that are up against them. (You would know if you have ever tried something similar in Kerala). And about the energy she derives from the work. And how she is looking colourful and cute again, after a grey and weary season that went by.

In her own words, it is ``an art gallery / eco-shop / 'lunar shop' and a 'solar cafe' in a city in Kerala". The address is

draavidia gallery
fort cochin
ernakulam district
kerala
india

And I hope she's still there when you reach:)