Datta Bhagat’s Routes and Escape Routes and Vijay Tendulkar’s Kanyadaan : Critiquing the Dalit

Introduction: Search for Plurality

The act of recovering the Dalit voice or rethinking the Dalit identity is one of the most significant incidents in postcolonial and post-independence Indian society. This act of recovery and rethink becomes possible as the entire sociopolitical spectrum of the country comes to be mediated by post-independence and postcoloniality after 1947. The new phase of re/organization generates discourses that either conformingly participate in the statist narrative of the new-born nation or critique the dominant narrative in order to address different disjunctive issues, safely hidden for the sake of nation-building. After independence, postcolonial nationalism vigorously pursues a decolonized nation-state. But while a strong nation-state is the sole agenda, postcoloniality gradually questions the very process of its build-up. As a result, different lost or marginal voices find recognition, and issues conveniently wrapped up under the nationalist blanket come to be exposed and assessed. Women, tribals, minorities, Dalits, all seem to get their recognition, rendering the post-independence development story of the nation a ‘plural’ one.

Indian theatre’s contribution to the plural story of national progress is significant. It has lent a voice to different marginal and unacknowledged voices or issues as the post-independence and post colonial stage fast reconfigures itself and becomes increasingly inquisitive about the realities around. Reorientation of theatre had already started with the IPTA (Indian People’s Theatre Association) since 1943, but a newly formulated modernity arrived in theatre only after the independence. This modernity can be seen in the different aspects of dramatic techniques, conventions, themes, and the overall ambience. A ‘generational upsurge’ (Dharwadker, 2007, p. 35) occurs in theatre that witnesses the plays’ ‘integrated textual and performative presence in multiple languages’ (Dharwadker, 2007, p. 35). A strong multilingual theatre evolves that aspires to be indigenous in distinctive ways. The most obvious desire of theatre is to become contemporary with the new post-independence and postcolonial situation and come close to the people through reoriented dramaturgies. The nationalist euphoria over nation-building alongside a growing scepticism over it creates a condition for ‘new-thinking’, and theatre overhauls itself in this condition to enact the sociopolitical drama of the new-born nation. Through thematic and technical innovations, it evolves into a crucial medium of creative art that engages the new-born state, nation, and its history in a critical dialogue. In a way, theatre becomes most relevant vis-à-vis the society, which it is born of and also critiques and influences.

Caste in India and the Rise of the Dalit

The fourfold order of varna is a text-based, hierarchical order of social classification conceptualized in Hindu sacred scriptures. This exhaustive, definitive, and ideal order undergoes a ‘long and tortuous process’ (Béteille, 1996, p. 21) in history and gradually evolves into and operates through a polysemous term jati, which is inexhaustibly elastic and factually visible in lived reality. With the ideal varna as sacred archetype, the factual jati functions as a social system of hierarchy based on particular occupational and behavioural patterns, localized sense of homogeneity through endogamy, language, culture or even religious norms. The system is able to survive down the ages through numerous transformations, keeping its core spirit of exclusion intact. It undergoes an unprecedented reconfiguration under colonialism when colonial ethnographic surveys and decennial censuses document caste as an essential axiomatic marker of India and the pan-Indian ground reality which the colonial governance is to stand on. It has been a subject of academic dispute whether ‘caste’ is equivalent to ‘varna’ and ‘jati’ or to ‘jati’ alone, and precolonial in origin (Srinivas, 1962; Béteille, 1996; Bayly, 2005) or caste is a product of colonial modernity, crystallized from the age-old patterns of hierarchy (Dirks, 1992; Samarendra, 2011). Since the present study is not about choosing one view against the other, it acknowledges that under colonial modernizing project the ideal varna and the factual jati evolve into a ‘caste system’ which ultimately develops a caste consciousness during the colonial period (Dirks, 1992), without disregarding the view that such consciousness became increasingly evident in the post-Mughal and pre-British period as well (Bayly, 2005). Such a balance of perception is required to probe Dalit consciousness and politics in post-independence India where the colonial classifications and schedules of castes are largely appropriated by the independent state (Mendelsohn & Vicziany, 2000, p. 4), while equally true is the fact that countless jatis, now called castes in official terminology, continue to live under certain norms, whose origin is ancient and pre-colonial. The present article uses the term ‘caste’ from this balanced awareness of how the system of hierarchical discrimination has evolved from its origin in about 1500 BC to date.

Caste is ancient, and the voices of dissent are also concurrent with the system. Time and again, its segregationist and exploitative structure has been questioned in various ways, giving shape to a range of counter discourses on caste. Development of caste consciousness in post-Mughal period results in new caste alignments with wider sociopolitical ramifications (Bayly, 2005, pp. 64–96), but the consciousness becomes most explicitly political during the colonial rule (Dirks, 1992, p. 68), when suppressed castes, enumerated and demarcated by colonial census, begin to organize, mobilize and formulate their discourses. Formation of Dalit consciousness is most important in this discursive development. ² M. K. Gandhi’s harijan or the more assertive Dalit has an ancient lineage that goes back to the untouchables/outcastes which stood ‘below, outside or parallel’ (Bayly, 2005, p. 9) to the varna order. But its formation as a political consciousness takes off in the early twentieth century and evolves into a widely recognized discourse in the post-independence and postcolonial situation of the country.

Colonial study of caste surely stimulates the formation and political assertion of Dalit consciousness on the one hand, and on the other, its gaining an ideological currency owes to different factors, ranging from sociopolitical activism to the newly arrived condition of post-independence and postcoloniality. A look into the trajectory of the Dalit movement in pre- and post-independence India shows two phases of development. The first phase is marked by the political-cultural assertion led by B. R. Ambedkar and his conflict with M. K. Gandhi. After Jotibha Phule (1826–1890), who perhaps first used the term ‘Dalit’ (Zelliot, 2001, p. 271) in his anti-caste/Brahmin discourse, Ambedkar (1891–1956) first led the most convincing Dalit challenge to upper caste dominance. Although his movement fell short of its immediate goal, its impact on the future anti-caste discourses is tremendous. The second phase of the movement witnesses a renewed action of the Dalits in post-independence and postcolonial India. Dalit as a consciousness gains a currency during this time only (Michael, 1999, p. 12) as a consequence of the postcolonial nation’s reaction to the independent state’s failure to deal with caste discrimination. Apart from the growing scepticism over the state, some other factors also stimulate the new development. Disillusionment with the Republican Party of India, once founded by Ambedkar, proves crucial (Omvedt, 1995, p. 75). Besides, as a positive fall-out of independence, spread of education and reservation on caste lines, though largely drawn on colonial caste schedules, help produce a not-so-small Dalit middle class who provide an intellectual impetus to the movement (Omvedt, 1995, p. 75). In 1972, Dalit Panthers comes into being, comprising a group of Dalit writers expressing ‘a new level of pride, militancy, and sophisticated creativity’ (Zelliot, as cited in Dharwadker, 2008, p. 289)—in brief, a ‘radical sociopolitical programme’ (Wankhede, 2008, p. 53). But the Panthers movement proves short-lived due to the ideological and policy crisis over the issue of ‘Buddhism versus Marxism’ (Omvedt, 1995, p. 78). The demise of the Panthers, however, does not put an end to Dalit literature that flourishes even afterwards riding on the legacy of militant Dalit activism left by the Panthers (Mendelsohn & Vicziany, 2000, p. 214). A canon of revolutionary literature and culture on the basis of pride over the Dalit identity thrives and remains influential even in the post-Mandal political scenario when Dalits actively participate in the mainstream ‘politics of number’. ³

In post-Ambedkar Dalit politics, three major trends could be discerned in Dalit self-assertion. Committed activism on the line of Ambedkar still guides many. They want to achieve social justice through an uncompromising and non-violent battle against the system. Second, the educated younger section, however, displays keenness in maximizing the benefits and scopes of the new-born state to their own advantage. They show a readiness to conformingly participate in the system, with a view to advancing themselves, their community and becoming strongly visible in the mainstream sociopolitical life of the country. They do it, however, at the cost of getting on a razor-edge, since their conformity to the system often provokes resentment of their own community for being allegedly ‘sold out’ to the upper castes. Truly, chances of co-option increases (Guru, 1999, pp. 139–141; Michael, 1999, p. 114; Wankhede, 2008, p. 52) as they have to participate, even though for countering, in a system which is predominantly upper caste-centric. Further, they also invite the upper-caste anger for their growing prosperity attained through the conformist participation. The third trend in Dalit movement is the aggressive and militant self-assertion that calls for a total rejection of the upper caste-centric system and forceful acquisition of rights. All these differences breed serious crises within the Dalit movement, which is why it seems to have fallen short of its goal of complete social justice.

In this context, the upper caste approach to the issue of casteism and Dalit assumes significance. Their approach can be seen under two broad categories—welfare and resentment. Welfare has three different shades. First, there are sincere and committed efforts against caste exploitation on the part of upper caste activism. Second, this sincere approach sometimes betrays a paternalistic and authoritative attitude. Allegedly inspired by the Gandhian ‘non-radical integrationist politics’ (Mendelsohn & Vicziany, 2000, p. 3) of caste, this particular approach remains obsessed with an upper caste-centric society and ‘looks down’ on the Dalits as a helpless category to be pitied. The third shade of welfare is the covertly political enterprises that view the Dalits, along with many other minorities in India, as a lucrative category in terms of electoral benefits. Here welfare is motivated by the arithmetic of Dalit votes. On the other hand, resentment remains another strong feature of the upper caste attitude to the Dalit (Mendelsohn & Vicziany, 2000, pp. 44–76). Resentment sometimes becomes overtly violent and some other times acts like an undercurrent beneath the social interactions between the upper and the lower castes.

In post-Ambedkar India, Dalit consciousness has undoubtedly become a powerful force, politically and culturally. Its mass acceptance among the caste-oppressed adds a new momentum to anti-caste discourses and draws a substantial amount of critical attention to the newly formulated identity of Dalit or ex/untouchables and their mode of self-articulation. The critical attention comprises art and literature of the Dalit writers and also the non-Dalit writers’ attempt to negotiate caste reality. Alongside Dalit poetry, autobiography and novel, Dalit theatre or theatre on the Dalit contributes significantly to this critical canon. It enacts the problems of the ‘silenced’ caste on stage and lets them talk openly through the medium of drama. The two plays under discussion not only carry the task forward but also raise the bar by their bold insight. They critique the dominant narratives of Dalit politics of our time and provoke us to rethink some of the popular caste-stereotypes, while providing two different perspectives on the subject. They also offer occasions where a Dalit writes on the Dalits alongside a non-Dalit writer taking on the same issue.

Importantly, alongside its growing ideological currency, the narrative of Dalit consciousness is clearly heterogeneous in terms of its ambivalent relations with the state and the society (Das, 2015, p. 64). The narrative is often riven by ruptures on ideological issues and policy matters, especially when it comes to formulating counterstrategies to deal with hostile condition. The discords prove counterproductive to Dalit struggle, deferring the key question of Dalit interest. Besides, upper caste politics often causes fissure within the Dalits, diffusing the impetus of their movement through co-option (Guru, 1999, pp. 139–141). Further, rampant confusion and schism, largely on ideological ground, multiplies the chances of co-option (Michael, 1999, p. 114). The consequent lack of cohesiveness in their struggle often proves detrimental to developing a strong Dalit counter-position.

The Plays

Post-independence Indian theatre, which runs parallel to its contemporary socio-historical condition, offers ‘unusual “archives”…. [of] “unofficial”, non-traditional, supposedly “inauthentic”’ (Das, 2015, p. 62) history, while mediating the contextual condition and also mediated by it. Through its interrogation of caste, theatre challenges the official monoliths of upper castes and Dalits and exposes the ambivalences and heterogeneity within them to write an alternative historiography of caste experiences. Thus, the political, historical narrative comes to be contested and sometimes complemented as well by the literary, non-historical narrative. Datta Bhagat’s and Vijay Tendulkar’s plays under discussion reveal, literarily and non-historically, Dalit realities and their unresolved ambivalences hitherto ignored or suppressed in the non-literary, historical narrative. Bhagat’s Routes and Escape Routes comes at the backdrop when, to use Erin B. Mee (2002, p. 4), ‘untouchables’ totally become ‘Dalits’ but with a lot of issues unquestioned and unresolved. Dalit consciousness and politics becomes the subject of critical attention with a view to locating what went/goes wrong with it. As a critique of the Dalits by a Dalit, Bhagat’s play represents the act where Dalits become critically introspective and begin to self-examine in an objective manner. This is, perhaps, why Erin B. Mee (2002, p. 4) calls it ‘the first modern Dalit play to reach a large and diverse audience’. Tendulkar’s Kanyadaan, on the other hand, is a non-Dalit’s take on caste/ism and a ruthless scrutiny of the militant Dalit subjectivity vis-à-vis the paternalistic upper caste to unveil some caste stereotypes that popularly go without saying in our society.

Routes and Escape Routes: Interface of Perspectives

Bhagat presents three different perspectives through the three major characters in the play for an impassionate insight into Dalit politics. The senior most among them, Kaka Godghate, stands for the Ambedkarite legacy of Dalit emancipation. His age has made him a staunch anti-Brahmin, who passionately wants liberation from the Brahminic culture through the adoption of Buddhism as a counterculture. The second one, Arjun Jadhav, is a non-pacifist. Ambedkar might have waged war against the system of caste and declared, ‘the enemy you must grapple with is not the people who observe caste, but the Shastras that teach them this religion of caste’ (as cited in Fitzgerald, 1999, p. 121), but Dalit militancy prefers an active confrontation with the upper castes to an ideological battle against the shastras and smritis (Hindu religious or sacred texts). Arjun Jadhav is the face of such militant Dalit activism that responds to upper caste violence with counter-violence. He represents the aggressive yet impatient Dalit youth who does not want to enter into the nitty-gritty of complicated situation and demands outright freedom at any cost. A ‘near nihilist mood and fierce anger’ (Omvedt, 1995, p. 77) distinguishes his position from others in the Dalit discourse. Contrary to them, Professor Satish Godghate represents the educated, intellectual, and left-leaning segment among the Dalits. He dislikes any hysteric activism that talks about the Dalit poor only, ignoring the other non-Dalit poor. He believes that the fight must not be unscrupulously vindictive to produce counter-casteism and a mere power-grabbing strategy. It should comprehensively redeem the Dalit, which is not an easy task to achieve.

Bhagat’s main purpose is to place these three perspectives on a critical palate to read the situation as objectively as possible. For this purpose, he uses the incidents of violence which take place off-stage but offer a prismatic tool to scrutiny the situation. The forcible acquisition of the flats by the Dalit flood victims led by Arjun, depriving the other non-Dalit flood victims of shelter, and the subsequent caste riot followed by the prejudiced action of the police and judiciary reveal a murky world of caste-based politics, where none of the parties can unburden their share of responsibility. The upper caste-dominated authority appears as manipulative as ever to undermine any Dalit unity. More importantly, the Dalits too are not allowed to go scot-free by the playwright.

Kaka is inarguably honest and committed to the Dalit cause, but Bhagat (2002, p. 332) carefully marks his obsession with his own caste and simplistic perception of reality. His boundless zeal for activism often ignores the ground reality and puts the common Dalit at peril. Militant activism riding on emotional frenzy finds a shape in Arjun Jadhav. His upright commitment to Dalit movement cannot excuse for his act of levying money from the poor Dalits in exchange of a shelter. Professor Satish, on the other hand, draws flak from the active members of his community for his alleged role of a thinker without action (Bhagat, 2002, p. 314). He is seen as a Dalit who is co-opted due to his profession in a government institution and marriage with a Brahmin woman, and thus loses much of his Dalitness. His middle-class complacency is alleged to overlook caste, as the most immediate factor in Dalit life, in favour of class. Satish is made to stand on a razor-edge position that, on the one hand, earns him resentment at home for his alleged lack of caste consciousness and, on the other, renders him suspicious to the upper castes for the opposite reason. Bhagat’s scrutiny, however, does not leave Satish entirely to his critics because, in the middle of all caste activisms and chaos, he always appears the most perceptive among all and his voice of sanity always sounds louder than others.

Kanyadaan

Tendulkar’s Kanyadaan, on the other hand, proposes a critique of the militant Dalit vis-à-vis the welfare politics of the upper caste. The play engages the two different caste categories in a close encounter in order to unsettle some popular stereotypes about caste. On the one hand, it examines the upper caste welfare discourse that tends to be authoritative and manipulative towards the Dalit; on the other, the play rereads the aggressive Dalit subjectivity that is averse to the upper caste culture and ready to snatch what, they think, belongs to the Dalit. Arun, a young Dalit writer, marries a Brahmin girl Jyoti, whose father Nath Devlalikar enthusiastically approves of the marriage as a noble social experiment. Disregarding their cultural gap, he encourages his daughter to marry the Dalit boy and dreams about setting an example against casteism at home. The result is disastrous. Cultural fissions begin to erupt as Arun proves to be an abusive husband, who does not hesitate to kick at his pregnant wife and blackmail his Brahmin father-in-law to avenge the historical injustice with his own caste.

Onstage: Bhagat vis-à-vis Tendulkar

Dramaturgically, both the plays rely on the realistic mode of representation that delivers their theme of social importance loud and clear. Bhagat likes to consider himself more of an activist than a playwright whose primary aim is to talk about the Dalit question to as many people as possible, and he does so even at the risk of being ‘didactic’ (Bhagat, as cited in Pandit, 2007, p. 1154). As a result, realistic representation suits his purpose the most. The entire play is enacted in the drawing room of a Dalit professor. The space of performance is characterized by some visible symbols or stage paraphernalia to indicate the professor’s entry into the middle class. Ambedkar’s portrait coexists with a study table, sofa, teapoy and a shoe stand as a reminder of his caste in a newly entered, neat and simple world of middle-class refinement and liberalism. The drawing room becomes the perfect space for negotiating the Dalit question in contemporary caste politics. It embodies, on the one hand, the acute consciousness of its inhabitants of being Dalit and, on the other, is blessed with an ambience conducive for an ‘unbiased’ (read: non-Dalit or even non-casteist) examination of the caste consciousness. For example, the presence of Ambedkar’s photo and Lord Buddha’s idol in the middle-class setup prepares the ground for scrutinizing the Dalit movement from a historically informed perspective. The movement appears nuanced and layered as the realistic style and the content of the play gel well to produce a fruitful critique.

Bhagat is extremely careful in giving voices to his characters; he lets them speak in languages and through postures that clearly befit their roles. Opposed to Professor Satish’s patient and perceptive composure, the senior activist Kaka and the militant Arjun perform in a way that shows their total scepticism and anger over the prevailing system. The old man’s obsession with the symbolic alternatives of rituals and Arjun’s preference for violence let the audience visualize the stage as deeply marked by opposing viewpoints on the subject of Dalit. Importantly, Bhagat never allows the stage to be used for any spectacles of physical conflict and violence. All commotion and violence take place off-stage. The stage has been kept for ‘discussion’ over the main subject. This is an aspect of the performance that explains the abundance of dialogues, chiefly long ones, many of which are in the form of statement. Bhagat consciously runs the risk of losing on theatrical merits for the sake of his political message, but he takes the calculated risk and succeeds notably in balancing the call of the activist-as-playwright with that of the playwright-as-activist.

Tendulkar’s play also suffers from lengthy speech and wordy dialogue that owes perhaps to his sheer urge to address questions, of which the least is said in our society and a lot are to be answered. But unlike Bhagat, Tendulkar is first and foremost a playwright. This is why his plays never run the risk of sounding didactic. The content comes first to him, to be sure, but it conjunctively determines the play’s form (Bhaneja, 2006, p. ix), and Tendulkar inarguably excels in the dramatic form of his choice. His social themes feel at home in his realistic and naturalistic mode of drama, and a balance between the form and the content has been achieved in his plays. Of Tendulkar’s stage devices, light and sound play important roles. In Kanyadaan, however, their roles are limited except for the ending of the play. The total collapse of Nath’s idealism before his daughter’s practical blow is theatrically supported by the rising background score and the loud sound of building falling down to the ground. The psychological upheaval is equally heightened by the fading-in and fading-out of the light that eludes a desperate Nath, who tries to reach for it. The melodramatic effect seems useful to suggest the total subversion of the apparently placid Brahmin home. Tendulkar uses the stage with the characters on it in a very skilful manner. The look of the drawing room explicitly builds up the normative middle-class household which gets disturbed by the ‘alien’ arrival of the Dalit man. The room is customarily arranged with the liberal and refined manifestations such as Gandhi’s portrait and objects d’art. People here behave in a standardized manner of propriety. What becomes clear at the outset in the house is the lack of communication at the very personal level between the hectic couple and their teenage daughter and son. The play begins significantly with the father on the telephone, the daughter doing some secretarial work for him, the son absorbed in repairing some household appliance and the mother away for some social work. To this world of decorum and idealism bereft of mutual understanding, the arrival of the Dalit man has been shown as visually disruptive. His body language, delivery of dialogues and linguistic preferences are in stark contrast to that of his hosts. The visual contrast makes clear the dichotomy between these two worlds and also the danger of their forced convergence. Importantly, Tendulkar’s drawing of the Dalit man as dark complexioned with a harsh face may sound stereotypical which Bhagat challenges. In Routes and Escape Route, a Brahmin boy is mistreated in school for his dark complexion which is typologically perceived as the natural colour of the Dalit (Bhagat, 2002, p. 298). But Tendulkar’s Dalit character surely owes his harsh face to his hard life and still betrays the innate good look from behind the experiences of struggle and backwardness. Tendulkar wants to be naturalistically committed to the cultural root of the Dalit man, which moulds the man, while dangerously bordering on stereotyping the character. He carefully avoids any typological stereotype of his Dalit character by showing that the man totally belongs to his cultural root and simultaneously displays some features which are cross-cultural.

Conclusion

The two plays under discussion present two different approaches to the central issue of Dalit in contemporary caste experiences. Bhagat examines different ‘routes’ and eagerly looks for the ‘escape route’ from the puzzling situation of caste politics. As a Dalit, he takes up the onus to find a convincing answer to the Dalit conundrum, and this sense of responsibility permeates his entire critique. ⁴ Tendulkar, on the other hand, is free from any such responsibility and therefore ruthlessly redefines caste relations and the popular image of Dalit in our society. While Bhagat’s style is a slow and sustained study of the situation that refuses to lose hope for social justice despite all odds, Tendulkar’s is a shocker that makes society look at the contentious realities they conveniently overlook. Importantly, Bhagat never tries to impose any ideological axiom on the process of understanding. On the contrary, he provides ample scope to cross-examine different aspects and probability of the situation, making possible a convincing critique of the core issue of Dalit in our time. This is obvious in Tendulkar, whose clinical objectivity is phenomenal. Both playwrights avoid a black and white perception of the situation on the basis of a binary of upper caste and lower caste. The nuanced course of Dalit politics comes under the focus, and consequently come up different unrecognized realities related to it. The critique, the plays offer, assumes greater significance due to their sociopolitical context. After India’s independence, caste perpetuates itself in the political tradition of the country with different consequences. On the positive note, Dalits, along with other backward castes, gain a space as a result of the newly arrived, sociopolitical situation. They become increasingly self-assertive and visible in the ‘politics of number’ alongside the gradual insignificance of the Ambedkarite movement of social reform. But on the wholly negative note, politics of vote bank and quota runs unabated. Dalits and their relations with the upper castes are stereotyped for political necessities. Consequently, the ideological stand of Dalit movement is greatly diluted as they become just another player in the political game of power. Against this backdrop of ambivalence and heterogeneity in Dalit narrative, the plays negotiate caste politics and effectively contribute to the contemporary caste dialogue in theatre. Dramaturgically, they offer nothing innovative, but they enrich the Indian theatrical canon by looking afresh into a contentious issue. As representative post-independence plays, they attempt to talk about a subject, safely brushed aside in our dominant or popular discourses, in a manner as much close to reality as possible. As a result, theatre becomes boldly alive to the margin with the Dalit receiving a fresh cognitive attention.