Book Excerpt | ‘The Scum of the Earth’ by Rakshit Sonawane: Living at the margins

‘Your father lost his mother when he was three years old, and his father when he was five—we brought him up.’

Soma nodded. ‘When we were teenagers, he used to accompany my father, Kondiba, on his duties around the village, like patrolling the village boundary at night or skinning dead cattle,’ he said.

‘We were untouchables, totally at the mercy of the villagers.’ Jiji nodded. ‘We would feast when a bull or a cow died because we’d get summoned to dispose the carcass. We used to skin it and eat beef to our heart’s content,’ she said. ‘Then, we would clean the bowels, cut them into small pieces, add salt and dry them before storing them in earthen pots. During difficult days, when we didn’t have much to eat, we would boil these pieces to fill our bellies.’

Avinash was speechless as he tried to come to terms with the stark realities of his lineage. He had never known anything about the grim truths of his father’s life outside of the city.

‘We would’ve languished in poverty, illiteracy and indignity forever, but Babasaheb’s movement changed our situation,’ Soma said.

‘And Dagadoo got caught up in the movement,’ Jiji said. ‘He used to go around the villages, asking our people to stop skinning dead cattle, eating beef and running errands for the upper castes.

He asked them to stop believing in superstitions and rituals, and respond, instead, to Babasaheb’s call to move to the cities for education and employment—to escape caste.’ Then she paused and looked around.

‘But why did our people not do something else and earn money?’ Avinash asked.

‘We were not paid for the work we did as village servants,’ Soma said. ‘It was our traditional duty.’

‘What if someone refused?’

‘Any person who refused was beaten up and ostracised,’ Soma explained. ‘There was no other way but to fall in line.’

‘But my father says that the Constitution takes care of all people—’

Soma and the others burst out into laughter before Avinash could even complete his sentence.

‘Son, there was no Constitution in those days,’ Soma said. ‘The Constitution came into being only in 1950. The ancient traditions were so oppressive that they deprived our people, as well as women of all castes, of education, employment opportunities, the freedom to pursue economic activities of their choice, and social status.’

Avinash found it unbelievable. ‘Why didn’t our people unite and oppose it?’ ‘It is very easy for you to say this,’ Soma said. ‘But the system was run by orthodox priests and wealthy upper-caste people citing some holy texts that vertically divided society into castes and sub-castes, besides branding all women as inferior to men. Specific upper castes were granted the privileges of priesthood, scholarship and business.’

Avinash was stunned. ‘Is that why our people remained poor and illiterate?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Without the efforts of social reformers like Mahatma Phule, Savitribai Phule, Chhatrapati Shahu Maharaj and Babasaheb Ambedkar, we would’ve continued to suffer endlessly.’

Avinash pondered over the revelations.

There was a lull in the conversation before Jiji continued, ‘We tried to stop your father when he decided to migrate to Bombay. But he was adamant. He moved and got employed as a watchman. After that, his visits to the village became less frequent. Later, he embraced Buddhism at the conversion ceremony Babasaheb organised in Nagpur.’

‘After his conversion, Dagadoo vowed not to touch liquor or worship any god,’ Soma said. ‘Do you mean he used to drink earlier?’ Avinash asked with surprise, looking at his mother, who nodded in response. ‘I’ve never seen him drink.’

Soma laughed. ‘He used to drink, but he gave it up and has kept his word,’ he said.

Learning the truth about his father’s life and his own ancestry set Avinash thinking. He began to understand why Dagadoo was so passionate about his education. Suddenly, he felt burdened with a heavy responsibility. He also felt ashamed about having compared himself with his classmates. They had inherited all their privileges by virtue of their birth, while he had inherited poverty, illiteracy and social stigma.

‘The traditions have long been biased against us,’ Narmada said.

‘Of course, now our children can get an education and find jobs.

The Constitution has provided a shelter for us.’

‘So have we given up our old way of life entirely?’

‘Well, the Constitution brought in a silent, bloodless revolution. No more village duties. We are leaving our old ways behind, forever. We’ve also stopped worshipping gods after converting to Buddhism.’

‘But we still live on the outskirts of the village.’

‘Yes, son. We’ve always lived on the outskirts of the village. This cluster of houses used to be called “Maharwada” in the past, meaning a settlement of Mahars, but now we call it “Rajwada”.’

‘But it’s still outside the village. When can we shift inside?’

Soma shook his head. ‘We have changed, but not the society we live in. I don’t know when it will happen or whether it will happen at all,’ he said. ‘Even if we earn lots of money or get access to higher education today, I don’t think we can buy or construct a house in the heart of the village.’

There was silence.

‘You said we’ve stopped worshipping gods,’ Avinash said. ‘But then how come we are still worshipping this traditional deity here?’

‘Yes, we’ve stopped worshipping gods.’ Soma stole a glance at Jiji and smiled sheepishly. Then, in a low voice, he murmured, ‘But my mother belongs to an older generation, and it’s impossible to make her change her beliefs at this age. So, I have to pretend that I still believe in all this because I don’t want to hurt her feelings.’

Jiji moved forward and patted Avinash. ‘You go to school, isn’t it?’ she asked, and he nodded. ‘Good. Become a big man,’ she said. ‘But don’t forget where you come from and always help the oppressed.’

— Excerpted with permission from HarperCollins