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Untouchability is a fact of life under Marxist rule in West Bengal

For them life was miserable under the laws of Manu -- and it is still bad under Marxist rule. Fifty years of Independence and 20 years of Communist rule haven't delivered the sudras of Rohini from the curse of untouchability. Hindu apartheid, in its most virulent form, can still be seen in this big and bounteous village of West Bengal.

The road to Rohini is beautiful. A serpentine earthen track cuts effortlessly through vast fields of paddy till it reaches this flourishing settlement. It was once the seat of the Sarangis, a family of fierce zamindars, where the doms and the hanris -- two untouchable communities -- lived in constant fear. Today, the village boasts of a school, a block development officer and a huge CPI-M office.

The zamindars have gone, but not the social stigma. "We are treated like dogs," says Sukhram Mukhi, his voice quivering with emotion. Mukhi used to work in the BDO at Rohini, but suffered endless humiliation at the hands of other employees in the government department.

Doms and hanris are two scheduled caste communities that rank fairly low among the lowly sudras. Although they are artisans by profession who earn their living by making and selling bamboo products like mats and baskets, the upper castes had always treated them as untouchables. And they do so even now.

Fifty years back, when India awoke to a bright light of freedom, the untouchables of Rohini languished in the Dark Ages. The promises and prospects of a new era meant little to them. For many years after Independence, say Bijon Sarangi, a teacher and social activist, the doms and the hanris had to wear bells round their necks whenever they stepped out of their para (locality) and passed through the upper caste quarters of Rohini.

The sound of the bells alerted the brahmins, kayasthas, vaidyas, and members of other superior castes of the approaching untouchables. And thus cautioned, upper caste passerby steered clear of the sudra's path to avoid contamination. Even their shadow was considered unclean!

True, the times are no longer as harsh as they once were, but the taunts that the doms and hanris suffer even now can be heart-breaking. In much of the Jhargram sub-division where Rohini is located, the upper castes still revel in referring to a pariah as 'hanri". "Shoo, hanri!" they shout every time they try driving away an intruding mongrel, says Sarangi.

Like elsewhere in India, the untouchables of Rohini live at the farthest corner of the village to ensure minimum contact with members of the upper-castes. Evidently, the Marxists, who hold sway in the region by controlling the panchayats and other institutions, have failed to eradicate social segregation.

In fact, the instances of discrimination are often reminiscent of the racism encountered by black Americans or the apartheid that had traumatised South Africa. And if that sounds a bit exaggerated to be true of a place that has long been touted as a bastion of Leftist values, here is a sampling of the ostracism the sudras of Rohini suffer.

Even now, doms and hanris are not allowed inside the house of the upper castes. And if, for some reason, they do make it there, the house is washed and plastered afresh with 'cleansing' cow-dung. If the untouchable happen to accidentally touch any foodstuff, it is promptly thrown away. And a bath is a must, even in a bitter winter night, if an upper caste were to be touched by an untouchable.

Nor are they allowed to draw water from wells or tubewells belonging to the upper castes. There can be serious trouble if they do. They are, however, free to use public tubewells sunk by the government.

But what if they do need water to drink at an upper caste home? The need does occasionally arise during festivals and ceremonies when feasts are organised by the upper castes.

The untouchables, too, are welcome at ceremonial gatherings but they seldom get beyond the courtyards of the rich, where they are made to wait till the feasting is over. Then, the leftovers are dished out on soiled leaf plates for them to scavenge on. "We and the dogs eat together after everyone else has eaten," says Jaladhar Patar, who nurses a deep sense of hurt for the way his community is treated. "And, as for the water, it is given to us in buckets meant for flushing toilets."

And rubbing salt to injury is the fact that, despite the state government's much-publicised literacy campaign, children from dom and hanri homes are actually being prevented from going to school.

It's not that they are refused admission openly, but the means of keeping them out are subtle and devious. "Teachers tell our children to bring their own asaans and they asked to sit separately in class," laments Debu Mukhi, whose son dropped out of school recently. Debu had come to accept this discrimination in seating arrangement, but was beaten by a financial burden thrust upon him. "The teacher told me to buy books worth Rs 500 for my son. This was totally beyond my means," he says.

And no dom or hanri is allowed to enter temples and offer prayers. But priests don't mind taking money from them in lieu of offerings in kind. Many hanris play the dhak, an exhilarating percussion that lends a distinct aural flavour to Bengal's Durga Puja. But the priests would frown if they were to pray. No wonder, they worship their own gods -- lesser ones perhaps -- like the elephant, for instance.

The upper castes of Rohini concede that untouchability was indeed a problem once, but expectedly deny that it continues to divide their village. Motilal Singh, a primary school teacher and a member of the Panchayat Samity, at first tried to disclaim any knowledge of casteist discrimination, but admitted "there could be isolated instances", when confronted with specific cases.

Most of those from the upper castes seemed embarrassed and stressed that the situation was changing. The wall that separated the castes was crumbling with the spread of education, they claimed, but admitted that vestiges of the past still survived. They tried explaining the divide by saying that the upper caste attitude was a reaction against the filth and squalor in which the lower castes lived. "That's what really separates us," asserted Niranjan Das, a small-time businessman.

Others argued that the situation in the "enlightened" cities was in no way better. "Do you have dinner with your servant at the same table?" they asked somewhat triumphantly.

Rohini is not an isolated case when it comes to castiest discrimination.

There were reports of similar sectarian repression in the Bengali press in early October. But the state government and ruling CPI-M, dominated as they are by an upper-caste oligarchy of the Mukherjees, Bannerjees, Chakrabartys, assorted Guptas, Boses and others, initially tried to rebut the reports and then decided to hold an enquiry.

On a broader scale, the castiest bias in West Bengal's society and polity, even under a self-righteous Marxist regime, is all too apparent to await official acknowledgment. There are several indications to suggest that the government's own attitude is heavily loaded against the lower castes and tribes.

In February, the National Commission for Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes expressed dissatisfaction at the way the state government was denying these communities their rightful share of funds for welfare schemes.

The Planning Commission says the percentage of budgetary allocations for SC/ST welfare schemes should be the same as the percentage of SC/ST population in any state. According to the 1991 census, SCs comprised 23.62 per cent and STs 5.59 per cent of West Bengal's population, but reports say the government provided only four per cent and two per cent for the welfare schemes meant for them in the 1996 budget.

Not surprisingly, H Hanummanthappa, MP, lodged a complaint with state chief secretary Anish Mazumdar against what amounted to a gross violation of Planning Commission directives and diversion of funds meant for the uplift of the ST/SCs into schemes that were benefiting those higher up in the social hierarchy.

The situation is equally revealing when it comes to giving jobs in the reserved category. One estimate has it that 70,000 posts, reserved for SC/STs, are lying vacant in various state departments. While jobs go abegging, nearly 67,000 applications for SCs; 5,338 for STs and 56,650 for Other Backward Classes remain uncleared by the state government.

There are complaints of harassment in the field of education as well. SC/ST students are entitled to book grants and hostel allowances, but there is said to be a backlog of over two years in the disbursement of such aid.

And added to all this is the sordid story of eviction from land. Jnanpith award-winning writer Mahashweta Devi is untiringly chronicling cases of tribals and Scheduled Castes being driven from their land by property developers, entrepreneurs, tea garden owners, and retired bhadraloks building their little villas in the countryside.

But everywhere the government and the political parties turn a blind eye. It's little wonder then that they fail to see the grotesque reality of Rohini.

Anish Gupta/Jhagram and Rohini

Kind courtesy: Sunday magazine

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