MY LIFE IN MY WORDS
1. BIOGRAPHY, BY THE GREATEST SOCIAL REVOLUTIONARY.
Foreigners of course know of the existence of untouchability. But not being next door to it, so to say they are unable to realize how oppressive it is in its actuality. It is difficult for them to understand how it is possible for a few untouchables to live on the edge of a village consisting of a large number of Hindus, go through the village daily to free it from the most disagreeable of its errands of all the sundry, collect food at the doors of the Hindus, by spices and oil at the shops of the Hindu Banias from a distance, regard the village in every way as their home, and yet never touch nor be touched by any one belonging to the village. The problem is how best to give an idea of the way the untouchables are treated by the caste Hindus. A general description or a record of cases of the treatment accorded to them is the two methods by which this purpose could be achieved. I have felt that the later would be more effective than the former. In choosing these illustrations I have drawn partly upon my experience and partly upon the experience of others. I begin with events that have happened to me in my own life.
- JOURNY TO GOREGAON
Our family came originally; from Dapoli Taluka of the Ratnagiri District of the Bombay Presidency. From the very commencement of the rule of the East India Company my forefathers had left their hereditary occupation for service in the Army of the Company. My father also followed the family tradition and sought service in the Army. He rose to the rank of an officer and was Subeder when he retired. On his retirement my father took the family to Dapoli with a view to settling down there. But for some reasons my father changed his mind. The family left Depoli for Satara where we lived till 1904. The first incident which I am recording as well as I can remember, occurred in about 1901 when we were at Satara. My mother was then dead. My father was away on service as a cashier at a place called Goregaon in katav Taluka in the Satara District; Where the Government of Bombay had started the work of excavating a Tank for giving employment to famine stricken people who were dying by thousand. When my father went to Goregaon he left me, my brother who was older than myself and two sons of my elder sister who was dead, in charge of my aunt and some kind neighbours. My aunt was the kindest soul I knew, but she was of no help to us. She was somewhat dwarf and had some trouble with her leg which made it very difficult for her to move about without the aid of somebody. Often times she had to be lifted. I had sisters. They were married and were away living with their families. Cooking our food become a problem with us especially as our aunty could not on account of her helplessness, manage the job. We four children went to school and we also cooked our food. We could not prepare bread. So we lived on Pulau which we found to be the easiest dish to prepare, requiring nothing more than mixing rice and mutton.
Being a cashier my father could not leave his station to come to Satara sees us, therefore he wrote to us to come to Goregaon and spend our summer vacation with him. We children were thoroughly excited over the prospect especially as none of us had up to that time seen a railway train.
Great preparations were made. New shirts of English make, bright beje welled caps, new shoes, new silk-boarded dhoties were ordered for journey. My father has given us all particulars regarding our journey and had told us to inform him on which day we were starting so that he would send his peon to the Railway Station to meet us and to take us to Goregaon. According to this arrangement myself my brother and one of my sister’s sons left Satara, our remaining in charge our neighboors who promised to look after her. The railway station was 10 miles distant from our place and a tonga (a one horse carriage) was engaged to take us to the station. We were dressed in the new clothing specially made for the occasion and we left our home full of joy but amidst the cries of my aunt who was almost prostrate with grief at our parting.
When we reached the station my brother bought tickets and gave me and my sister’s son two annas each as pocket money to be spent at our pleasure. We at once began our career of riotous living and each ordered a bottle of lemonade at the start. After a short while the train whistled in and we boarded it as quickly as we could for fear of being left behind. We were told to detrain at Masur, the nearest Railway Station for Goregaon.
The train arrived at the Masur at about 5 in the evening and we got down with our luggage. In a few minutes all the passengers who had got down from the train had gone away to their destination. We four children remained on the platform looking out for my father or his servant whom he had promised to send. Long did we wait but no one turned up. An hour elapsed and the station master came to enquire. He asked us why we tarried. We told him that we were bound for Goregaon and those we were waiting for father or his servant to come but that neither had turned up and that we did not know how to reach Goregaon. We were well dressed children. From our dress or talk no one could make out that we were children of the untouchables. In deed the station Master was quite sure we were Brahmin children and was extremely touched at the plight in which he found us. As is usual among the Hindus the station Master asked us who we were, without a moment’s thought I blurted out that we were Mahars (Mahar is one of the communities which are treated as untouchables in the Bombay Presidency) He was stunned. His face underwent a sudden change. We could see that he was over power by a strange feeling of repulsion. As soon as he heard my reply he went away to his room and we stood where we were. Fifteen to twenty minutes were elapsed; the sun was almost setting. My father had not turned nor had he sent his servant, and now the station master had also left us. We were quite bewildered and the joy and happiness which we felt at the beginning of the journey gave way to the feeling of extreme sadness.
After half an hour the station master returned and asked us what we proposed to do. We said that if we could get a bullock cart on hire we would go to the Goregaon and if it was not very far we would like to start straightway. There were many bullock carts playing for hire. But my reply to the station master that we were Mahars had gone round among the cart men and not one of them was prepared to suffer being polluted and to demean himself carrying passengers of the untouchable classes. We were prepared to pay double the fare but we found that money did not work. The station master who was negotiating on our behalf stood silent not knowing what to do. Suddenly a thought seemed to have entered his head and he asked us, “Can you drive the cart?” Feeling that he was finding out a solution of our difficulty, we shouted, “Yes, we can,”. With that answer he went and proposed on our behalf that we were to pay the cartman double the fair and drive the cart and that he should walk on foot along with the cart on our journey. One cartman agreed as it gave him an opportunity to earn his fare and also saved him from being polluted.
It was about 6.30PM when we were ready to start. But we were anxious not to leave the station until we were assured that we would reach Goregaon before it was dark. We therefore questioned the cartman as to the distance and the time could take to reach Goregaon. He assured us that it would be not more than 3 hours. Believing in his word, we put our luggage in the cart, thanked the station master and got into the cart. One of us took the reins and the cart started with the man walking by our side.
Not very far from the station there flowed a river. It was quite dry except at the places where there were small pools of water. The owner of the cart proposed that we should halt there and have our meal as we might not get water on our way. We agreed. He asked us to give a part of his fare to enable him to go to the village and have his meal. My brother gave him some money and he left promising to return soon. We were very hungry and were glad to have had an opportunity to have a bite. My auntie had pressed our neighbours women folk into service and had got some nice preparation for us to take on our way. We opened Tiffin basket and started eating. We needed water to wash thing down. One of us went to the pool of water in the river basin nearby. But the water really was no water. It was thick with mud and urine and execrate of the cows and buffaloes and other cattle who went to the pool for drinking. In fact that water was not intended for human use. At any rate the stink of the water was so strong we could not drink it. We had therefore to close our meal before we were satisfied and wait for the arrival of the cartman. He did not come for a long time and all that we could do was to look him in all directions.
Ultimately he came and we started on our journey. For some four or five miles we drove the cart and he walked on foot. Then he suddenly jumped into the cart and took the reins from our hand. We thought this to be rather a strange conduct on the part of a man who had refused to let the cart on hire for fear of pollution to have set aside all his religious scruples and to have consented to sit with us in the same cart but we dared not ask him any questions on the point. We were anxious to reach Goregaon our destination as quickly as possible. And for some time we were interested on the movement of the cart only. But soon there were darkness all around us. There were no street light to relive the darkness. There were no men or women or even cattle passing by to make us feel that we were in their midst. We become fearful of the loneliness which surrounded us, our anxiety was growing. We mustered all the courage we possessed. We had travelled far from Masur. It was more than three hours.
But there was no sign of Gorengaon. There arose a strange thought within us. We suspect that the cartman intended treachery and that he was taking us to some lonely spot to kill us. We had lot of gold ornaments on us and that helped to strengthen our suspicion. We started asking him how far Goregaon was, why we were so late reaching it. He kept on saying, “it is not very far, we shall soon reach it”. It was about 10.00at the night when finding that there was no trace of Gorgaon we children started crying and abusing the cartman. Our lamentations and wailings continued for long. The cartman made no reply. Suddenly we saw a light burning at some distance. The cartman said, “Do you see that light? That is a light of the toll collector. We will rest there for the night.” We felt some relief and stopped crying. The light was distant, but we could never seem to reach it. It took us two hours to reach the toll-collector’s hut. The interval increased our anxiety and we kept on asking the cartman all kinds of questions, as to why there was delay in reaching the place, whether we were going on the same road, etc.
Ultimately by midnight the cart reached the toll-collector’s hut. It was situated at the foot of the hill but on the other side of the hill. When we arrived we saw a large number of bullock-carts there all resting for the night. We were extremely hungry and wanted very much to eat. But again there was a question of water. So we asked our driver whether it was possible to get water. He warned us that the toll-collector was a Hindu and that there was no possibility of our getting water if we spoke the truth and said that we were Mahar’s. He said, “Say you are Mohammedans and try your luck”. On his advice I went to the toll-collector’s hut and asked him if he would give us some water. “Who are you”? He inquired. I replied that we were Musalman’s, I conversed with him in Urdu which I knew very well so as to leave no doubt that I was a real Musalman. But the trick did not work and his reply was very curt. “Who has kept water for you”? There is water on the hill, if you want to go and get it, I have none. With this he dismisses me. I return to the cart and conveyed to my brother his reply, I don’t know what my brother felt. All that he did was to tell us to lie down.
The bullocks had been unlocked and the cart was placed sloping down on the ground. We spread our beds on the bottom planks inside the cart, and laid down our bodies to rest. Now that we had come to a place of safety we did not mind what happened. But our minds could not help turning to the latest event. There was plenty of food with us. There was hunger burning within us; with all this we were to sleep without food; that was because we could not get water because we were untouchables, such was the last thought that entered our mind. I said, we had come to a place of safety. Evidently my elder brother had his misgivings. He said it was not wise for all four of us to go to sleep. Anything might happen. He suggested that one at a time two should sleep and two should keep watch. So we spent the night at the foot of that hill.
Early at 5 in the morning our cartman came and suggested that we should start for Goregaon. We flatly refused. We told him that we would not move until 8 O’clock. We did not want to take any chance. He said nothing. So we left at 8 and reached Goregaon at 11. My father was surprised to see us and said that he had received no intimation of our coming. We protested that we had given intimation. He denied the fact. Subsequently it was discovered that the fault was of my father’s servant. He had received our letter but failed to give it to my father.
This incident has a very important place in my life. I was a boy of nine when it happened. But it has left an indelible impression on my mind. Before this incident occurred, I knew that I was an untouchable and that untouchables were subjected to certain indignities and discriminations. For instance, I knew that in the school I could not sit in the midst of my class students according to my rank but that I was to sit in a corner by myself. I knew that in the school I was to have separate piece of gunny cloth for me to squat on in the class room and the servant employed to clean the school would not touch the gunny cloth used by me. I was required to carry the gunny cloth home in the evening and bring it back the next day. While in the school I knew that children of touchable classes, when they felt thirsty, could go out to the water tap, open it and quench their thirst. All that was necessary was the permission of the teacher. But my position was separate.
I could not touch the tap and unless it was opened for it by a touchable person, it was not possible for me to quench my thirst. In my case the permission of the teacher was not enough. The presence of the school peon was necessary, for, he was the only person whom the class teacher could use for such a purpose. If the peon was not available I had to go without water. The situation can be summed up in the statement no peon, no water. At home I knew that the work of washing clothes was done by my sisters. Not that there were no washer man in Satara. Not that we could not afford to pay the washer man. Washing was done by my sisters because we were untouchables and no washer man would wash the clothes of an untouchable. The work of cutting the heir or shaving the boys including myself was done by our elder sister who had become quits an expert barber by practicing the art on us., not that there were no barbers in Satara, not that we could afford to pay the barber, the work of shaving and hair cutting was done by my sister because we were untouchables and no barber would consent to shave an untouchable. All this I knew. But this incident gave me a shock such as I never received before, and it made me think about untouchability which, before this incident happened, was with me a matter of course as it is with many touchable as well as untouchables.
- PARSI’S IN BARODA
In 1916 I returned to India. I had been sent to America by His Highness the Maharaja of Baroda for higher education. I studied at Columbia University in New York from 1913 to 1917. In 1917 I came to London and joined the post graduate department of the school of Economics of the University of London. In 1918 I was obliged to return to India without completing my studies. As I was educated by the Baroda state I was bound to serve the state. Accordingly on my arrival I straightway went to Baroda. The reason why I quit Baroda service is quite irrelevant to my present purpose. I do not therefore wish to enter into them. I am only concerned with my social experiences in Baroda and I will confine myself to describing them.
My five years of stay in Europe and America had completely wiped out of my mind any consciousness that was an untouchable and that an untouchable whenever he went in India was a problem to himself and to others. But when I came out of the station my mind was considerably disturbed by a question, “where to go? Who will take me? “I felt deeply agitated. Hindu hotel called Vishis, I knew there were. They would not take me. The only way of seeking accommodation therein was by impersonation. But I was not prepared for it because I could well anticipate the dire consequences which were sure to follow if my identity was discovered as it was sure to be. I had friends in Baroda who had come to America for study. “Would they welcome me if I want”? I could not assure myself. They may feel embarrassed by admitting an untouchable in their household. I stood under the roof of the station for some time thinking, where to go, what to do? It then struck me to enquire if there was any place in the camp. All passengers had by this time gone. I alone was left. Some hackney drivers who had failed to pick up any traffic were watching and waiting for me. I called one of them and asked him if he knew if there was a hotel in the camp. He said that there was a Parsi Inn and that they took paying guests. Hearing that it was an Inn maintained by the Parsi’s my heart was gladdened. Parsi’s are followers of the Zoroastrain religion. There was no fear of my being treated by them as an untouchable because their religion does not recognize untouchability. With a heart glad with hope and a mind free from fear I put my luggage in a hackney carriage and asked the driver to drive me to the Parsi Inn in the Camp.
The Inn was a two storied building on the ground floor of which lived an old Parsi with his family. He was a caretaker and supplied food to tourists who come there to stay. The carriage arrived and the Parsi caretaker showed me upstairs. I went up while the carriage driver brought up my luggage. I paid him and he went away. I felt happy that after all I had solved my problem of finding a sojourn. I was undressing as I wanted to be at ease. In the meantime the caretaker came with a book in his hand. Seeing as he could well see from half undressed state that I had no Sadra and Kasti, the two things which prove that one is a Parsi, in a sharp tone he asked me, who I was? Not knowing that this inn was maintained by the Parsi community for the use of Parsi’s only, I told him that I was a Hindu. He was shocked, and told me that I could not stay in the Inn. I was thoroughly shocked by his answer and was cold all over. The questioned returned again where to go? Composing myself I told him that though a Hindu I had no objection staying there if he had no objection. He replied, “ How can you? I have to maintain a register of all those who stay here in the inn.” I saw his difficulty. I said I could assume a Parsi name for the purpose of entering it in the register. “Why do you object if I do not object, you will not lose, you will earn something if I stay here. “I could see that he was inclined favourably. Evidently he had no tourist for a long time and he did not like to forego the opportunity of making a little money. He agreed on condition that I pay him a rupee and a half per day food and lodging and entered myself as a Parsi in his register. He went down stair and I heaved a sigh of relief. The problem was solved and I felt very happy. But alas! I did not then know how short was to be this happiness. But before I describe how I passed my time during the short period I lived therein.
The inn on the first floor had a small bed room and adjoining it was one small bath with a water tap in it. The rest was one big hall. At the time of my stay a big hall was filled up with all sorts of rubbish, planks, benches, broken chairs etc. In the midst of the surroundings I lived a single solitary individual. The caretaker came up in the morning with a cup of tea. He came again at about 9.30 with my breakfast or morning meal. A third time he came up at about 8.30 in the evening with my dinner. The caretaker came up only when he could not avoid it and on these occasions he never stayed to talk to me the day was spent somehow.
I was appointed a probationer in the Accountant General’s office by the Maharaja of Baroda. I used to leave the inn at about 10 a.m. for the office and returned late at about 8 in the evening contriving to while away outside the inn as much time in company of friends as I could. The idea of returning to the inn to spend the night therein was most terrifying to me and I used to return to the inn only because I had no other place under the sky to go for rest. In this big hall on the first floor of the inn there were no fellow human beings to talk to. I was quite alone. The whole hall was enveloped in complete darkness. There was no electric light or even oil lamps to relieve the darkness. The caretaker used to bring up for my use a small hurricane lamp. Its lights could not extend beyond a few inches. I felt that I was in a dungeon and I longed for the company of some human beings to talk to. But there was none. In the absence of the company of human beings I sought the company of books and read and read. Absorbed in reading I forgot my lonely condition. But the chirping and flying about the bats, which had made the hall their home, often distracted my mind and sent cold shivers through me reminding me of what I was endeavoring to forget, that I was in a strange place under strange conditions. Many a time I must have been angry, but I subdued my grief and my anger by the feeling that though it was a dungeon, it was a shelter and that some shelter was better than no shelter. So heart-rending was my condition that when my sister’s son came from Bombay bringing my remaining luggage which I had left behind and when he saw my state, began to cry so loudly that I had to send him back immediately. In this state I lived in the Parsi inn impersonating a Parsi. I knew that I could not long continue this impersonation as I would be discovered some day, I was therefore trying to get a state bungalow to stay in. But the Priminister did not look upon my request with the same urgency. My petition went from officer to officer and before I got the final reply the day of my doom arrived.
It was 11th day of my stay in the inn. I had taken my morning meal and was about to step out of my room to go to office. As I was picking up some books which I had borrowed overnight for returning them to the library. I heard footsteps of a considerable number of people coming up the staircase. I thought they were tourists who had come to stay and was therefore looking out to see who these friends were. Instantly I saw a dozen angry looking, tall, sturdy Parsis, each armed with a stick, coming towards my room. I realized that they were not fellow tourists and they gave proof of it immediately. They lined up in front of my room and fired a volley of questions. “Who are you? Why did you come here? How dare you take a Parsi name? You scoundrel! You have polluted the Parsi inn!”. I stood silent. I could give no answer. I could not persist in impersonation. It was in fact a fraud and the fraud was discovered, and I am sure if I had persisted in the game I was playing I would have been assaulted by the mob of angry and fanatic Parsis and probably doomed to death. My meekness and my silence averted this doom. One of them asked when I thought of vacating. At that time my shelter I prized more than my life. The threat implied in this question was a grave one. I therefore broke my silence and implored them to let me stay for a week at least, thinking that my application to the Minister for a bungalow would be decided upon favourable in the meantime. But the Parsis were in no mood to listen. They issued an ultimatum.
They must not find me in the inn in the evening. I must pack off. They held out dire consequences and left. I was bewildered. My hart sank within me. I cursed all and wept bitterly. After all I was deprived of my precious possession namely my shelter. It was no better than a prisoner’s cell. But it was to be very precious.
After the Parsis were gone I sat for some time engaged in thinking to find a way out. I had hopes that I would soon get a State bungalow and my troubles would be over. My problem was therefore a temporary problem and I thought that going to friends would be a good solution. I had no friends among untouchables of Baroda States, but I had friends among other classes. One was a Hindu and the other was an Indian Christian. I first went to my Hindu friend and told him what had befallen me. He was a noble soul and a great personal friend of mine. He was sad and great indignant, He, however, let fall one observation. He said, if you come to my home my servants will go. I took the hint and did not press him to accommodate me. I did not like to go to the Indian Christian friend. Once he had invited me to go and stay with him. But I had declined preferring to stay in the Parsi inn. My reason was that his habits were not congenial to me. To go now would be invite a rebuff. So I went to my office but I could not really give up this chance of finding a shelter. On consulting a friend I decided to go to him ask him if he would accommodate me. When I put the question his reply was that his wife was coming to Baroda the next day and that he would have to consult her. I learned subsequently, that it was a very diplomatic answer. He and his wife came originally from a family which was Brahmin by caste and although on conversion to Christianity the husband has become liberal in thought, the wife had remained orthodox in her ways and would not have consented to harbor an untouchable in her house. The last ray of hope thus flickered away. It was 4 PM when I left the house of my Indian Christian friend. Where to go was the one supreme question before me. I must quite the inn and had no friend to go to. The only alternative left was to return to Bombay.
The train to Bombay left Baroda at 9 PM. There were five hours to be spent. Where to spend them? Should I go to the inn? Should I go to my friend? I could not buck up sufficient courage to go back to the inn. I feared the Parsis might come and attack me. I did not like to go to my friend. Though my condition was pitiable I did not like to be pitied. I decided to spend the five hours in the public garden which is called Kamathi Baugh, on the border of the city and the camp. I sat there partly with a vacant mind, partly with sorrow at the thought of what had happened to me and thought of my father and mother as children do when they are in a forlorn condition. At 8 pm I came out of the garden, took the carriage to the inn, brought down my luggage. The caretaker came out but neither he nor I could utter a word to each other. He felt that he was in some way responsible for bringing him into trouble. I paid him his bill. He received it in silence and I took his leave in silence. I had gone to Baroda with high hope. I had given up many offers. It was the war time. Many places in the Indian Educational service were vacant. I knew very influential people in London. But I did not seek any of them, I felt that my duty was to offer my services first to the Maharaja of Baroda who had financed Baroda and return to By education. And here I was driven to leave Bombay after a stay of only eleven days.
This scene of a dozen Parsis armed with sticks lined before me a menacing mood and myself standing before them with a terrified look imploring for mercy is scene which so long a period as 18 years has not succeeded in fading away. I can even now vividly recall it and never recall it without tears in my eyes. It was then for the first time that I learnt that a person who is an untouchable to a Hindu is also an untouchable to a Parsi.
- TONGA WALA DENIED TO CARRY HIM AT DHULIA
The year was 1929. The Bombay Government had appointed a Committee had to tour all over the province to investigate into the allegations of injustice, oppression and tyranny.. The Committee split up. I and another member were assigned the two districts of Khandesh. My college and myself after finishing our work parted company. He went to see some Hindu Saint. I left by train to go to Bombay. At Chalisgaon I got down to go to a village on the Dhulia line to investigate a case of social boycott which had been declared by the caste Hindus against the untouchables of that village. The untouchables of Chalisgaon came to the station and requested me to stay for the night with them. My original plan was to go to Bombay after investigating the case of social boycott. But as they were keen agreed to stay overnight. I boarded the train for Dhulia to go to the village, went there and informed myself of the situation prevailing in the village and returned by the next train to Chalisgaon.
I found the untouchables of Chalisgaon waiting for me at the station. I was garlanded. The Maharwada, the quarters of the untouchables, is about 2 miles from the Railway station and one has to cross a river on which there is a culvert to reach it. There were many horse carriages at the station playing for hire. The Marathwada was also within walking distance from the station. I expected immediately to take to the Marathwada. But there was no movement in the direction and I could not understand why I was kept waiting. After an hour or so a tonga(one horse carriage) was brought close to the platform and I got in. The driver and I were the only two occupants of the tonga. Others went on foot by a short cut. The tonga had not gone 200 paces when there would have been a collision with a motor car. I was surprised that the driver who was paid for hire everyday has been so inexperienced. The accident was averted only because on the loud shout of the policeman the driver of the car pulled it back.
We somehow came to the culvert on the river. On it there are no walls as there are on a bridge. There is only a row of stones fixed at a distance of five or ten feet. It is paved with stones. The culvert on the river is at right angles to the road we were coming by. A sharp turn has to be taken to come to the culvert from the road. Near the very first site stone of the culvert the horse instead of going straight took a turn and bolted. The wheel of the tonga struck against the side stone so forcibly that I was badly lifted up and thrown down on the stone pavement of the culvert and the horse and the carriage fell down from the culvert into the river. So heavy was the fall that I lay down senseless. The Maharwada is just on the other bank of the river. The man who had come to great me at the station had reached there ahead of me. I was lifted and taken to the Maharwada amidst the cries and lamentations of the men women and children. As a result of this I received several injuries. My leg was fractured and I was disabled for several days. I could not understand how all this happened. The tonga pass and repass the culvert every day and never has a driver failed to take the tonga safely over the culvert.
On enquiring I was told the real facts. The delay at the Railway station was due to the fact that the tongwalas were not prepared to drive the tonga with a passenger who was an untouchable. It was beneath their dignity. The Mahars could not tolerate that I should walk to their quarters. It was not in keeping with their sense of my dignity. A compromise was therefore arrived at. That compromise was to this effect: the owner of the tonga would give the tonga on hire but not driver. The Mahars thought this to be a happy solution. But they evidently forgot that the safety of the passenger was more important than the maintenance of his dignity. If they had thought of this they could get a driver who could safely conduct me to my destination? As a matter of fact none of them could drive because it was not their trade. They therefore asked someone from amongst themselves to drive. The man took the reins in his hand and started thinking there was nothing in it. But as he got on he felt his responsibility and became so nervous that he gave me up all attempts to control. To save my dignity the Mahars of Chalisgaon had put my very life in jeopardy. It is then I learnt that a Hindu tangawala, no better than a menial, has a dignity by which he can look upon himself as a person who is superior to all untouchables even though he may be a Barister-at-Law.
- MOHAMMADAN OF HYDERABAD PRACTICE CASTEISM.
In the year 1934, some of my co-workers in the movement of the depressed classes expressed a desire to go on a sight-seeing tour If I agreed to join them. I agreed. It was decided that our plan should at all events include a visit to the Buddhist caves at Verul. It was arranged that I should go to Nasik. To go to Verul we had to go to Aurangabad. Auragabad is a town in the Mohammadan State of Hyderabad and is included in the dominion of His exalted Highness, the Nizam. On the way to Aurangabad we had first to pass another town called Daulatabad which is also in the Hyderabad State. Daulatabad is a historical place and was, at one time the capital of a famous Hindu King by name Ramdeo Rai. The fort of Daultabad is an ancient historical monument and no tourist while in that vicinity should omit a visit to it. Accordingly our party had also included in its programme a visit to the Daulatabad.
We hired some buses and touring cars. We were about 30 in number. We started from Nasik to Yeola as Yeola is on the way to Aurangabad. Our tour programme had not been announced and quite deliberately. We wanted to travel incognita in order to avoid difficulties which an untouchable’s tourist has to face in outlying parts of the country. We had informed our people at those centers only at which we had decided to halt. Accordingly, on the way although we past many villages in the Nizam State none of our people had come to meet us. It was naturally different at Daulatabad. There our people had been informed that we were coming. They were waiting for us and had gathered at the entrance to the town. They asked us to get down and have tea and refreshment first and then to go to see the fort. We did not agree to their proposal. We wanted tea very badly but us to sufficient time to see the fort before it was dark. We therefore left for the fort and told our people that we would take tea on our return. Accordingly we told our drivers to move on and within a few minutes we were at the gate of the fort.
The month was Ramjan, the month of fast for the Mohammedans. Just outside the gate of the fort there is a small tank of water full to brim. There is all around a wide stone pavement. Our faces, bodies and clothes were full of dust gathered in the course of our journey and we all wished to have a wash. Without much thought some members of the party washed their faces and their legs on the pavement with the water from the tank. After this ablution we went to the gate of the fort. There were armed soldiers inside. They open the big gates and admitted us into the archway. We had just commenced asking the guard the procedure for obtaining permission to go into the fort. In the meantime an old Mohammedan with white flowing beard was coming from behind shouting “the Dheds (meaning untouchables) have polluted the tank”. Soon all the young and old Mohammedans who were near about joined him and all started abusing us. “The Dheds have become arrogant. The Dheds have forgotten their religion (i.e. to remain low and degraded). The Dheds must be taught a lesson”. They assumed a most menacing mood. We told them that we were outsiders and did not know the local custom. They turned the fire of their wrath against the local untouchables who but that time had arrived at the gate. “Why did not you tell these outsiders that this tank could not be used by untouchables?” Was the question they kept on asking them? Poor people they were not there when we entered tank.
It was really our mistake because we acted without injury. They protested that it was not their fault. But the Mohammedans were not prepared to listen to my explanation. They kept on abusing them and us. The abuse was so vulgar that it had exasperated us. There could easily have been a riot and possibly murders. We had however to restrain ourselves. We did not want to be involved in a criminal case which would bring our tour to an abrupt end.
One young Muslim in the crowd kept on saying that every must conform to his religion, meaning thereby that the untouchables must not take water from a public tank. I had grown quite impatient and asked him in a some what angry tone, Is that what your religion teaches? Would you prevent an untouchable from taking water from this tank if he becomes a Mohammedan?” This straight question seemed to have some effect on the Mohammedans. They gave no answer and stood silent. Turning to the guard I said, again in an angry tone, “Can we get into the fort or not? Tell us, if we can’t we don’t want to stop”. The guard asked for my name. I wrote it out on a place of paper. He took it to the Superintendent inside and come out. We were told that we could go into the fort but we could not touch water anywhere in the fort and an armed soldier was ordered to go with us to see that we did not transgress the order.
I gave one instance to show that a person who is an untouchable to a Hindu is also an untouchable to a Parsi. This will show that a person who is an untouchable to a Hindu is also an untouchable to a Mohammedan. (Writing & Speeches by Dr.B.R.Ambedkar vol 12 .pg-665 on words)