On a Sunday morning, my photo editor Neeraj Priyadarshi and I got lost while trying to find Ghanta Ghar and the little colony where Dalits were to be invested with the sacred thread in a religious ceremony that would as they said challenge the caste oppression. The pink tents weren't hard to spot after we had turned into a narrow street in North Delhi and then as we entered the community hall, we were surprised to see the enthusiasm as young boys and men tied their dhotis and prepared to rise above the caste barriers. The thread to them was means to gain respect and equality, and they would flaunt it, they said.
An edited version of the article appeared in the Indian Express on June 19, 2009. This is the original version that I filed.
Chinki Sinha
New Delhi, June 14, 2009
Akshay Valmiki, a Dalit boy, held the white, coarse janau or the sacred thread, an upper-caste symbol, in his hands, running his fingers through the three strands, sorting them. At first he wore it around his neck like a garland. But the priest shook his head in disapproval. Confused and shy, Akshay tried the second time and the priest smiled from the other side of the ritual fire that separated the two. This time, he had got it right.
Twelve-year-old Akshay, who belongs to the Valmiki community that engages in scavenging and cleaning and is one of the oppressed communities, jumped in excitement, the knots of his dhoti coming off as he showed off the white janau that hung loosely over his shoulders. It was the first time he wore the thread in his family.
The youngest among the 251 Valmiki caste members who participated in an Upnayan or the scared thread-binding ceremony organized by the Delhi-based Swaraj group on Sunday at Aryapura, Akshay didn’t quite get the symbolism of the event or of the thread. All he knew was that the thread was something he could flaunt at school, something that would elevate his status. It was sort of a rite of passage, he said.
In the background, a statue of Saint Valmiki, the patron of the community which sees him as the incarnation of Brahma, set up on a pedestal with Lord Ram occupying the lower rung, set the tone for the ceremony. The Valmikis rever Ram’s teacher who is said to have written the epic Ramayana.
“I don’t know what it is,” he said. “But I know it has something to do with Valmiki and Brahmins.”
The event on Sunday is the first in a series of 100 such ceremonies planned across Delhi NCR region. There are also plans to hold such ceremonies where Dalit community members can adopt upper caste norms throughout the country. The project would cost about Rs. 1 crore, members said.
“These people have not been allowed to venture into the Indian culture,” Dr. Sambit Patra, the founder and president of the organization, said. “They are equals. This may not being any change in the near future but definitely it will help Dalits to come into the mainstream. This is nothing short of a social revolution.”
As the conch shell blew on Sunday, and chanting took on a feverish pitch, a Brahmin priest stood on the side of the ritual fire, holding a bunch sacred threads in his hands. On the other side of the flames, men and children belonging to the Dalit community sat with expectant eyes and outstretched hands, waiting to cross over. They didn’t want to miss the bus.
For them, the thread that they would sling across their shoulders and thus imitate an upper-caste symbol was a way of challenging the caste hierarchy. The thread would blur the caste barriers.
While the first ceremony was targeted at the Valmikis, a sub-caste in northern India, whose members are mostly scavengers and cleaners, other Dalit communities would soon be brought into the folds, Patra said.
Such ceremonies aren’t unusual. Popularized as Sanskritization by the sociologist MS Srinivas, it implies a process by which lower castes claim a higher position in the caste hierarchy by emulating the practices and rituals like vegetarianism of the dominant castes.
But Patra said Sunday’s ceremony wasn’t aimed at legitimizing Brahmin supremacy but a reassertion of the right accorded to all by the Vedas.
Vishnu Prapanna, a Brahmin priest who presided over the ceremony, said while the religious texts invested the right of wearing the thread to all, all four sects of the Varna system look up to the Brahmins as the bearer of knowledge and as such aspire to be Brahmins.
“This is how we try to elevate them. Whoever learns the culture and the texts can become a Brahmin,” he said.
Next to him, Ranjan Chaudhary, a Valmiki, intervened.
“We have lagged behind. We follow Saint Valmiki, who was Ram’s teacher. It is a paradox then that we are at the lowest rung of the society,” he said. “This ceremony is a similar to passing. We don’t want to hold the broom, but hold a pen. To be a Brahmin means development of mind.”
But wearing the janau isn’t the ticket to an elevated status in the society for many Valmikis who refused to participate in the ceremony.
Every morning, Amit Birla, a sweeper, goes about cleaning the streets, broom in hand, and seldom looking up to match the gaze of those that are from the upper castes. When he is thirsty, he reaches out for a glass, usually kept near the entrance of a house, and the owner pours it from a height. That’s when he is reminded of his place and that’s where he belongs, he said,
“I can’t and won’t wear it because I am a sweeper. They will kill us if they see us wearing what is theirs. They don’t even let us enter their homes,” he said. “I don’t know what Patra ji was thinking. I am sure it is a good thing but who will save us when the Brahmins and the upper castes get angry.”
Days before the thread-binding ceremony, Sarvesh Mawana, another Valmiki, was told by some priests they would take offence if he were to take on the thread.
“I am not convinced if I should wear it. I need my job. I need to feed my family. I don’t want to be scorned for wearing it and lose my job,” Mawana said.
Most cleaning jobs in the country are still done by members of the Valmiki caste and while other Dalit group members have sort of moved on, most Valmikis have stuck to the work assigned to them centuries ago.
Though many would agree that caste is a given and such symbolic acts are a leveller, Dalit leader and President of Indian Justice Party Udit Raj said that such ceremonies only symbolized the stratification of the society further and can in no way bring about Dalit emanicipation.
"Why should they wear janau? Even if they do wear the sacred thread, they will still be outcaste nd history is witness to that. Even after departing from Hindu religion, the caste stigma has not left them. Caste has followed them everywhere," he said. "This is no social revolution. If they have to do something, they should give up the broomstick. Valmiki was a writer. The community should hold pens."
In most Valmiki households, the jobs of cleaners are passed down the generations.
But because caste is a given fact and there is no option but to imitate the culture of the Brahmins in order to elevate one’s status, the emphasis here is not to cross the caste boundaries but get respect, Patra said.
While such ceremonies have happened in the past too, this is the first time, an organized approach is being taken towards investing the Valmikis with the janau. In 2007, a similar ceremony was organized in Delhi where more than 500 Valmikis had taken on the janau, Patra said.
Around five percent of Delhi's population is Valmikis, members said.
For Sunny Mangeram, a Valmiki caste member who works at Delhi University, revolution by wearing the prohibited dress and symbols of the Brahmins didn’t mean they were abandoning their caste. They were proud to be Valmikis and he saw the thread as an equalizer, he said.
In 1995, when he was traveling to Bulandshahar in Uttar Pradesh for a wedding, they had stooped at a dhaba for refreshments and chai was handed to them in porcelain cups.
“They thought, looking at our clothes that we probably were elite or something,” he said, as he changed into a dhoti for the ceremony. “When we were asked our caste, and we said Valmiki, they took away the cups and gave chai in clay bowls. That was crushing and demeaning. Now, I will walk into the campus, my shirt unbuttoned, flaunting the thread.”
But not all who wore the thread on Sunday and fed the ritual fire with offerings understood the nuances.
Sunil Parcha, 30, would give up on non-vegetarian food. The thread meant purging of self. The Brahmins too abstain from meat, he said.
“We want to be like Brahmins,” he said. “I will not do any wrong. This thread will give me respect and acceptance. People look down on me; they are disgusted because I am a Dalit.”
In many ways, the ceremony reflected the aspirations of an oppressed group. While they said they revered their Saint, they also wanted to discard the Dalit tag, and clamber out of their squalor.
As Ashish Dhaiya, 18, wore the thread, he smiled, clutching the three strands.
“I am wearing it for the first time. I feel good. I feel like a Brahmin,” he said. “I will never remove it now.”
