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South Asia Research
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Tamil Dalits in Search of a Literature

M. Kannan and Francois Gros
South Asia Research 2002 22: 21
DOI: 10.1177/026272800202200102
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TAMIL DALITS IN SEARCH OF A LITERATURE
Kannan M. and François Gros
However many gather to pull it, ParaiyarI

What of it? If he remains Paraiyan they will bum
The temple car still hasnt come into the ceri him alive,
If, as warrior, he uproots
Atalaracan They will worship him with joined hands.
Kajam putitu (August-October 1993)
Palamalai
Paravirar~
Nirappirikai (November 1994)
Dalits in and out of Tamil Nadu
The untouchable sells abroad but does less well in India. Is an alternative literature
of the downtrodden and oppressed thinkable in the land of the Laws of Manu?
In Tamil, the phenomenon has only just come into being. The monsoon of dalit
literary inspiration that gathered in the west of India during the 1960s has barely
crossed the Western Ghats. It was in 1982 that the first reference appeared and
that was only a very casual one, in Patikal, a magazine published in Bangalore by
Note: Some of the material herein was referred to by Frangois Gros in a seminar on Some Aspects
of Contemporary Tamil Literature at Uppsala University, Sweden, 19 May 1995, and we thank the
participants for their feedback. This article originally appeared in French as Les dalit tamouls en
quete dune litterature, Bulletin de I cole Franais DExtrme-Orient, No. 83, 1996, pp. 125-53.
it has been updated and rewritten in English with help from M. P. Boseman. There was much going
on in the field at the time of completion of this article in October 2000 which we were unable to
know, and such developments continue. Social anthropological works on the subject of untouch-
ability are numerous, as evident from the bibliographical data collected by Eleanor Zelliot, From
Untouchable to Dalit: Essays on the Ambedkar Movement, Delhi, 1992 to Oliver Mendelsohn and
Marika Vicziany, The Cntouchables, Cambridge, 1998. Susan Bayly, Ca.ste, Society and Politics in
India_from the Eighteercth Centcsry to the Modern Age, Cambridge, 1999, provides a good background
study. The emphasis in this article is on Tamil sources. It should be noted that dates accompanyingg
the titles of Tamil books are of the commercially determined library distribution date, when in fact
the actual publication is often several months later.

22
a small group around Tamilavan. At the beginning of the 1990s the word dalit
was in widespread use in Tamil, but not without reservations, since even in its
local orthography of talit, the term is of Sanskrit origin and Tamil intellectuals
are nothing if not linguistically touchy. Moreover, acceptance of the word vaguely
implies consciousness of participating in a movement that concerns India as a

whole.
From various perspectives, Tamil ideologues set to work to examine the political
equation of religious minorities with those rejected by the caste system; they
referred back to Ambedkar, champion of the cause of the untouchable, whose
centenary in 1991 had opportunely brought his writings to mind.3 The outbreak
of dalit literary inspiration is thus very recent and its promulgation through the
media even more so; further, it is in a state of ideological confusion which can be
clarified only by attention to the emergence of the phenomenon and the limitations
peculiar to it. The current tendency towards drowning specific aspects of it in
what might be called dalit sensitivity (taken here to mean modish, and conforming
to the concept of political correctness or self-censorship as it appears in journalism
and anthropological discourse) is appropriate to the Tamil literary temperament
which is naturally sober and tends to half-tones. If a writer, dalit by sympathy and
origin, turns away from the ideological free-for-all because of his or her humanistic
values, fashion forces and official literary circles will elevate the writer in the
name of the uncompromised values he or she espouses, thus paradoxically com-
promising them.
In 1994 Pumani, a writer belonging to an untouchable caste, a dalit by birth
though not always eager to be so identified, received a literary price awarded by
AGNI (Awakened Group for National Integration, a Tamil organisation in Madras
with a national network of Congress orientation run by the authors Malan and
Sivasankari, AGNI also means fire). On that occasion he read a text, later pub-
lished in Putiya Parvcai (a now defunct bi-monthly literary magazine managed by
M. Natarajan, who was closely involved with local politics at that time), a signific-
ant satirical allegory, Ellm prfccampalattirkuttll (All for the Dates...).
In a village of the karical (black soil) country, on the verandah of his house, a
man of some culture is waiting for the rains. He strikes up conversations with
passers-by, first a salt merchant who is also a Sangam poet whom he admires.

A Dalit Action Committee, which became the Dalit Sahitya Akademi, had existed in Bangalore
since 1977, led by V. T. Rajshekhar Shetty, archivist, journalist and author of Dalit Movement in
Karnataka, Madras, 1978.
2
On the whole we could define Dalits as people belonging to castes which, in one way or the
other, are subjected to untouchability and are sidelined by the dominant castes. Dalit Politics: A
Draft Manifesto, Pondicherry, 1994, p. 24.
3
This was also the occasion for the publication of a Tamil version of his works; from 1991, more
than 15 volumes at the end of 2000. We note that in 1992, it was on 6 December, the day on which
the memory of B. R. Ambedkar has been celebrated for years, that Hindu fundamentalist groups
(BJP, RSS, VHP) demolished the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya thus adding, for minorities, a double
significance to the date.
4
&amacr; 1-15 March 1995, pp. 9-11.
Putiya rvai,
P

23
What an amount of knowledge! Knowledge...where can one buy that...? replies

the poet as he goes his way. He then meets the Alvar poetess Andal of pure Vaish-
navite lineage: How does she know so much about the cowherd women and their
work? Maynt I write about other people? Who said I am nothing but an Alvar?
She leaves him dumbfounded. Face to face with Subrahmanya Bharati and his
donkey, he questions the relevance of an image in one of the Tamil poet laureates
prose poems. The reply is, You are too big-headed; its the heart that ought to be
big.... The rain comes and with it the croaking of frogs, an image of our society
familiar since Socrates. They croak in Tamil, discreetly Brahmanism; more force-
fully Dravidianism; even more strongly feminism, territorialism (regionalism,
chauvinism of the birthplace reserved for the sons of the soil), structuralism;
in hoarse voice traditionalism; in a more confused tone, dalitism, with many
a
variations, a veritable cacophony: tatalittu, the dalits on themselves; atalittu,

non-dalits on the dalits; pitalittu, the backward castes on the dalits; mutalittu,
the forward castes on the dalits.... A date-seller comes along who, according to
custom, trades his fruit for old utensils. The villager is possessed with a little
humanism which he doesnt want to exchange but would prefer to have enhanced.
The merchant knows nothing about this and grumbles about such an unreasonable
individual. Left to himself the man confesses :all his life he has tried to learn and
understand but everyone has repeatedly told him that he knows nothing. An old
school teacher reassures him, quoting from Ecclesiastes and putting Candide into
practice: Qui auget scientiam auget dolorein (He who increases knowledge in-
creases sorrow). Ill go back to my garden. He proclaims categorically when the
date-seller comes back, The truth is, I know nothing. Are you satisfied?
Faced with this caricature, the scepticism of the writer, whether feigned or dis-
illusioned, acting as a perfunctory anti-intellectualism, sets up a barrier behind
which he can take refuge and disrobe with an appearance either of modesty or of
having been wounded. What can be concluded from this? Is there, will there ever
be, a Tamil dalit literature?
A comparison with other dalit literatures is unavoidable but the numerous works
about these make for brevity. It was Marathi literature which first drew attention
to the term dalit and to the literary genres which, towards the end of the 1960s,
were expressing its essence, with Eleanor Zelliot, Gail Omvedt and other Ameri-
cans calling themselves Concerned Asian Scholars. If the first dalit literary con-
ference, which passed almost unnoticed, took place only in 1958, the movement
did not lack antecedents to vindicate it, from the Buddha himself and, more mod-
estly, the medieval devotee mahar Chokhamela, to more modern exponents of
social reform such as Jotirao Phule (1829-90) and to those authors, often linked
to the peasant literary renaissance, who drew their inspiration and language
5
Bibliographical details in Eleanor Zelliot, From Untouchable to Dalit: Essays on the Ambedkar
Movement, Delhi, 1992; Gail Omvedt, Dulits and the Democratic Revolution: Dr Ambedkar and
the Dalit Movement in Colonial India, New Delhi, 1994; also, two anthologies, Mulk Raj Anand
and Eleanor Zelliot, An Anthology of Dalit Literature, New Delhi, 1992, and Arjun Dangle, ed.,
Poisoned Bread: Translations from Modern Marathi Dalit Literature, Madras, 1992.

24
from the land, such as S.M. Mate (1886-1957). The Maharashtrians also had before
them the prestigious example of one of their own people, B.R. Ambedkar, who
helped to engender an untouchable consciousness in response to the Gandhian
campaign of 1933-34 in favour of Harijan, and who attempted to popularise a
large-scale political ideology through the Republican Party whose fragmented
pan-Indian vision never managed to evolve into a genuinely unifying reality (vari-
ous factions may gather for the sake of elections only to split up again immediately
afterwards) but which, with great difficulty, made some inroads into Maharashtra
in 1966.
It is therefore not surprising that the brilliant young generation of Marathi dalits
in the 1960s took the American Blacks as their model, gave a literary turn to their
commitment and founded the Dalit Panthers in Bombay in 1972. Their pro-
vocative language often lacked grace, but never intensity.6 Gujarati literature fol-
lowed suit with some difficult debuts before beginning the exploration of a pattern
which was often to be copied: a rearrangement of poetic forms linked to song and
folklore and a foray into subaltern mythology, chosen as an alternative to the
weight of classical Hinduism. Several English translations from Marathi appeared
in Tamil Nadu well before the Tamil translations based on them. Like some other
texts also translated from Marathi but into French (by Guy Poitevin) they were
testimonies rather than works of imagination, chronicles rather than artistically
conceived texts, lived experience rather than poetic experimentation, and a supply-
ing of material for the study of anthropology rather than a renewal of the literature.
A politically aware public drawn from universities in India and abroad kept the
movement at arms length though without hesitating to overvalue it; its linguistic
impact is incontestable but current trends in academic studies of dialects do not
seem to have taken this into account. Beautiful poems and some blasphemous
outbursts appeared in Marathi although the prose cannot be compared with that
of certain Bengali texts, such as those by Mahasweta Devi
6
The language of these writers is one of lament, doubt and scorching rage. And the body of the
work is of immense value since it is only now that the Dalits have begun to express, thanks to
individual talent and education, for the first time in history what none but they could have ever
known. To that extent, this literature takes its pride of place on the literary scene. Latika Padgaonkar,
Profiles in Shadow, The Book Review, No. 18, 10 October 1994, p. 35.
7
For easy reference, see Gujarati Dalit Literature, Indian Literature, No. 159, January-February
1994, and Punjabi Dalit Literature, Indian Literature, No. 185, May-June 1998.
8
um, trans. Ti. Cu. Satasivam, Madras, 1992,
From Arjun Dangle, Dalit ilakkiyam: Pökkum varal
&amacr;r
&emacr; veliccam, an anthology of Gujarati, Marathi and Tamil writings chosen and trans-
to Pinuttai eritt
lated by Indiran, Madras, 1995, a brilliant all-rounder and officer of the Indian Bank, quick to
reclaim his dalit identity when that became fashionable. Sahitya Akademi published two English
translations of Marathi dalit autobiographies: Laxman Mane, Upara: Outsider, trans. A. K. Kamat,
New Delhi, 1997 and Laxman Gaikwad, Uchalya: The Branded, trans. P. A. Kolharkar, New Delhi,
1998.
9
In English see Kalpana Bardhan. Of Women, Outcastes, Peasants and Rebels, Berkeley, 1990.
Since she received the Jnanpith Award in 1996, at the end of 2000, 11 books by Mahasweta Devi
have been available in English.

25
In Dravidian languages, writers in Kannada seem to be the most prolific, with

Devenuru Mahadeva, Govindayya, Chandrashekhara Patila, Baraguru Rama-
candrappa, Sara Abubakkara and, above all, Siddhalingayya, who appears to
keep a distance and to denounce certain ambiguities.&dquo; More balanced of late,
Siddhalingayya has discovered that being a revolutionary involves more than
wishful thinking and that works by writers in revolt fall flat, being limited by a
language of class struggle, which is international, homogeneous and entirely anti-
septic, and by a narrow imagery. This is the international poetics of poverty and
of the proletariat, additionally boxed in by a mainstream that has come to be
capable of absorbing various degrees of rage. The political statement of the dalits
may be represented today, at least in north India, by the Bahujan Samaj Party
(BSP) of Kanshi Ram, but where is its cultural statement? If the dalits lack the
capacity and the necessity to create their own myths there is nothing to distinguish
Marxist poetry from dalit poetry. For this creation to take place, two pitfalls have
to be avoided: that of becoming closed up in the aesthetic structures of folklore
alone and the complete adherence to stereotypes of dalit imagination, both of
which are equally ineffective in terms of political realism.&dquo; The aura of myth,
resorted to for the sake of its prestige, is thus a common leitmotif in dalit literature.
In Telugu also, an ideal prescription for a perfect dalit, written by a militant intel-
lectual of the movement, Katti Padma Rao,~ draws its inspiration from the blood
of the victims of Karamchedu,14 certainly, but also from the Indian materialist-
philosophical tradition of Charvaka, perceived as egalitarian, as well as from popu-
lar art and culture, from songs of fishermen, shepherds, launderers and barbers,
and from burrakatho, jakkcslakatha, jcamulakatha theatre, but apparently, never
from any particular genre of modem literature. This is all the more surprising in
that this literature demonstrates a high level of social and political consciousness
10
Her novel Cantirakiri &Amacr;
ankaraiyil, Tamil trans. Ti. Cu. Satasivam, Madras, 1994, with an
rr
introduction by Toppil Muhamed Miran, the most representative Tamil Muslim writer though
—
not one who was involved in the Dalit Movement. Since 1996 more translations of Kannada dalit
literature have appeared in Tamil: Putainta rr &amacr; Coimbatore, 1996; Siddalingayya, Ürum C&emacr;riyum,
k
u,
Coimbatore, 1996; Arvinta Malakathy, Government Pir&amacr;manan, Coimbatore, 1998; Devanuru
Mahadeva, Pacittavarkal, New Delhi, 1999. All the texts have been translated by Pavannan.
One should not reduce the word dalit to signify only a caste. "Dalit" should symbolise suffering
11
and pain rather than becoming a symbol of exploitation. It should bloom as a symbol which functions
against exploitation, cruelty and atrocities. The meaning emphasized by the word dalit ought to be
insult, shame, insecurity, rebellion. There are some progressive literary intellectuals and elitists
among dalits. They must use the word without any real dalit consciousness; neither do they have
any dream for or about dalits. The real dalit issues and problems are quite removed from them.
appirikai, No. 2, October 1994. pp. 30-31.
r
Ni
12
See D. R. Nagaraj, From Political Rage to Cultural Affirmation: Notes on the Kannada Dalit
Poet-Activist Siddhalingaiah, India International Centre Quarterly, Vol. 21, No. 4, pp. 16--26 and
idem, The Flaming Feet: A Study of the Dalit Movement, Bangalore, 1993.
13
Katti Padma Rao, Caste and Alternative Culture, trans. D. Anjaneyalu, Madras, 1995.
14
A village in the south coastal district of Andhra Pradesh where, on 17 July 1985, six dalit Christians
were killed by members of the upper caste Kamma community. This incident provided a rallying
point for the dalit movement in Andhra Pradesh.

26
and a great deal of receptivity to dialect. Any development in the situation in

Kerala would be complicated by the intrusion of the important reformist movement
initiated in favour of the Izhava, within the framework of Hindu society, by
Narayana Guru well before Independence and by the presence of an original brand
of communism as well as of numerous and active Christian and Muslim minorities.
Today, there is no hesitation in seeing in the Synod of Diamper (Lldayamperur),
the beginning of an anti-caste movement in 1599 amongst the Indian clergy while,
in fact, it tried to resolve the conflict between a new wave of conversions made
by the Portuguese and the old Syrian Christian church which had itself assimilated
with the caste system. It is a family belonging to that very tradition that is portrayed
in The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy who, by giving the proceeds of the
Malayalam rights of her novel to the promotion of Kerala dalit literature in February
1999, has shared her limelight with the obscure Kerala Dalit Sahitya Akademi.
Yet, in Kerala, as everywhere else, the best writings to be claimed by dalits are the
works of non-dalits, from Kumaran Asan to Katammanitta Ramakrishnan, or are
translations from Marathi or Oriya. Mention was made in 1998 to a dalit novel by
a dalit writer, Kocharayathi by Narayana.
These invariables are not lacking in Tamil: a quest for ideological roots and
exalted ancestors, a fascination with subaltern 15 folklore (as an alternative to
classical mythology and literature), attempts made by the best to go beyond realism
and the sordid and to find, beyond self-pity, pity for others, invective and insult,
the authentic cry which would take them beyond simple documentary witnessing
and would fulfil hitherto frustrated expectations.
The Lure of the Dravidian Movement
The first problem is, naturally, the historical relationship of the Tamil dalits with
the Dravidian movement that occupies such an important position in the sensibility
15
The term needs clarification. The series called Subaltern Studies (in the English language)
which treats subjects as diverse as colonialism, feminism, tribal societies and the anthropology of
low castes certainly constitutes an essential contribution to the history of India and is read by the
ideologues of the dalit movement, but such studies have no impact on the subaltern consciousness
whose cultural baggage is exclusively vernacular in its expression. It should be added that, however
eminent the position of the Sudras may be in the Tamil Vaishnavite Bhakti movement and however
many harijans may have been canonised and represented by statues in the temples in south India,
the academic dialogue exists between the Brahmin and the dominant non-Brahmin castes, the
dalits most often being excluded. See Friedhelm Hardy, The Tamil Veda of a Sudra Saint (The
Srivaisnava Interpretation of Nammalvar), Contributions to South Asian Studies. Delhi, 1979, pp.
29-87; and compare two approaches, the orthodox Shaivite inspiration of M. Arunachalam, Harijan
Saints of Tamilnadu, Tiruchitrambalam, 1977, and the militant dalit approach of S. Manickam,
Nandanar the Dalit Martyr: A Historical Reconstruction of his Time, Madras, 1990, which concurs
with the criticism of Periya Pur&amacr;nam by Raj Gautaman in Dalit Panp&amacr;tu (Essays on Dalit Culture),
Pondicherry, 1993, pp. 46-87. The epigraph heading our article bitterly makes the claim that the
sole problem is no longer the right of entry into the temples but is the integration of the ceri (area
in which untouchables live in a village), into the ritual circuit of the procession.

27
and the political life of Tamil Nadu. 11 Appearing towards the end of the nineteenth
century, the movement first reflected the progressive values of Congress policies
and had, at the same time, a strong regional background: Periyar, a Congress dis-
sident, was the hero of the Self-Respect Movement. During the 1930s, however,
it was less Gandhian values that counted and more the ancient southern gap
between the Brahmins and the non-Brahmin high castes,&dquo; that is, Sudras, as distinct
from Harijans. Local and peripheral, the Dravidian movement of protest and
opposition, of alternative and counter-culture, hostile to the centre, to Sanskrit
and to Brahmins certainly has qualities that give it a resemblance to the Dalit
movement, but only by analogy. This is confirmed by two tracts very recently
rediscovered by Tamilnadan who projects them as forerunners of Tamil dalit
literature. The first, Shanmugam Pillais Pppttikkum Par.aicdkkum natanta
alankdraccantai (6The Ornamented Fight between a Brahmin woman and a
Paraiyar Woman )18 is in the form of an ornate dialogue, between a Brahmin
woman and a paraiyar woman in which the latter exposes the hypocrisy of the
formers values and attitude, in the same mode as that of Aritasars well-known
Irucamaya vilakkam between two women as to the relative merits of Shaivism
and Vaishnavism. The second tract (Wn61a vicittira parci t((i, t6tticci paraiyan
pclttu (The Paraiyan Song of Totti and Totticci in the Strange and Wonderful
Parsi Style)19 is a song in which a paraiyar remonstrates with the upper castes
about their ignoring of his noble origins in their mistreatment of him. Without
having any significant direct impact upon serious literature, the Dravidian move-
ment was nevertheless to exercise considerable influence upon the language by
offering a neutral, standard and syncretic idiom as an alternative to the Brahman
16
Classical: Eugene Irschick, Political and Social Conflict in South India, Berkeley, 1969; and
idem, Tamil Revivalism in the 1930s, Madras, 1986. Accessible: Anita Diehl, Periyar E. V. Rama-
swami, Bombay, 1977. Close to texts: S. Saraswati, Towards Self-Respect: Periyar EVR on a New
World, Madras, 1994. See also a review of S. Theodore Baskaran, The Message Bearers, Madras,
1981 by François Gros, Bulletin de lÉcole Français DExtrême-Orient (hereafter BEFEO), No.
70, 1981, pp. 291-303. In Tamil see S. V. Rajadurai and V. Geetha, Periyar: Cuya mariy&amacr;tai
camatarmam (Periyar: Self-respect and Equal Justice), Coimbatore, 1996; and idem, Periyar:
August 15, Coimbatore, 1998. For a good, short summary of Rajadurais thesis in English, see V.
Geetha and S. V. Rajadurai, Neo-Brahmanism: An International Fallacy?, Economic and Political
Weekly (hereafter EPW), Vol. XXIII, No. 3-4, 1993, January 16-23, pp. 129-36; and for an elabor-
ation of the same see idem, Towards a Non-Brahmin Millennium: From Iyothee Dass to Periyar,
Calcutta, 1998.
Essentially the caiva v&emacr;l&amacr;lar which may be translated roughly as small landowners (pillai), and
17
secondly mutaliy&amacr;r, of the regions of Tondaimandalam, Thanjavur, Tirucci and Tirunelveli, attached
equally to Tamil and to vegetarian diet (caivam). For an apologia of their role, and implicit response
to the works of Irschick, see A. R. Venkatachalapathy, Tir&amacr;vita iyakkamum v&emacr;l&amacr;larum, cuyamariy&amacr;tai
iyakkakkattam 1927-1944 (Dravidian Movement and the Velalar during the Self-respect Movement,
1927-1944), Madras. 1994, and a review by T. Paramasivan in K&amacr;laccuvatu, No. 12, 1995, pp.
51-52.
18
Cf., Tamilnadan, Kavikk&omacr;, Chennai, 1999: Shanmugam Pillai, P&amacr;pp&amacr;ttikkum Pa
accikum natanta
r
alank&amacr;raccantai, Thanjavur, 1929.
19
Vi aiya p&amacr;ttu, Thanjavur, 1929.
&omacr;ta vicittira parci t&omacr;tti, t&omacr;tticci n
n r
pa

28
dialect, not identifiable with any caste, and tending to reduce the percentage of
Sanskrit vocabulary from approximately 60-70 per cent to 20-30 per cent without,
however, sharing the exclusiveness of the Pure Tamil movement. It rather pro-
vides, through cinema and political propaganda, a fluid language, capable of
emotion and, indeed, of sentimentality, a dramatic spoken language, forged for
and by dialogue (films, novels, theatre) and debate. Even though satirised latterly,
this language, an instrument in the conquest of power, the language of the writer-
politicians Annadurai and Karunanidhi, will not fade out any more than will myth-
ical references to the past and to its literature. It is forceful enough to affect the
imagination but insufficiently profound to have lasting significance.
The coming to power of the Dravidian movement and the uncontrollable caste-
ism of the upwardly mobile backward castes, who benefit from quota and resei-
vation policies prejudicial to the interests of the dalits, can only induce the latter
to seek an identity independent of the Dravidian establishment, if not actually
organised against it.
The recent and very powerful Hindu revival, which confirmed its triumph with
the election of the Bharatiya Janata Party in 1999, is substituting for the historical
myth of the antique Dravidian culture faced by an Aryan invasion, a new myth of
Hindutva, a unique entity which regroups several millennia within a single com-
munity of language and culture including all Hindus from Brahmins to Dravidians,

leaving out only the tribals and dalits who have never been integrated, and the
dissidents who are converts to Islam or Christianity. As in the case of the earlier
myth, the Hindutva one is based on unproven archaeological and linguistic argu-
mentation the Sarasvati river archaeology, and Sanskrit-oriented reading of
-
Indus seals.2 The myth will, nevertheless, function as long as Sanskritisation

continues to be identified with the social promotion of lower castes. It provides a
perfect ideological cover for the unificatory obsession of the majority because it
leaves the minorities with no alternative to integration into Hinduism other than
the violence, which it is the duty of the political majority to prevent.
Slogans have more impact than poems, yet the emergence of a dalit Tamil
literature is perceptible. It is a literature with an unfurnished memory; it is subaltem
and it lacks the prophetic charisma of established cultures. It employs a more
colloquial and popular language, which it uses even in narrative prose. Matters
are further complicated by the fragility that fringe groups are prey to, the ephemeral
nature of reviews and magazines, the uncertain agendas of ideologues, the exces-
sive place given to poorly assimilated foreign references and, lastly, the far from
negligible creative impact of the Tamil writers of Sri Lanka, traumatised by their
internal conflicts and forced emigration. 21
20
See Michael Witzel and Steve Farmer, Horseplay in Harappa, Frontline, 13 October 2000, pp.
4-14.
21
Little is said about the importance of the caste of the Tamil militant nationalists of Sri Lanka,
perhaps because the Tigers of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), the dominant
movement, bastion of v&emacr;l&amacr;la (the majority population in Jaffna since the era of Arumuka Navalar,
before 1900), and of karaiy&amacr;lar (caste of the famous leader Prabhakaran) have practically eliminated

29
InQuest of Ancestors: Ayotti Das Kaviraja Pantitar,

A Neo-Buddhism before Ambedkar
The dalit is without influence and is defined by his nakedness, standing as he

does as the last and interchangeable link in the chain of social organisation. The
dalit has insufficient cultural weight to interact with the Indian cultural renaissance
of the twentieth century which is Hindu in essence and functions by negating,
silencing or assimilating any attempt at alternatives or dissidence. The dalits have
thus been tempted to create ancestors for themselves as well as an ideological
past. In Tamil Nadu the contribution of the paiicamar (the fifth caste, the out-
castes, strangers to the four uarna}, through the construction of a militant non-
Brahmanism within the reformist nationalism of the final decades of the nineteenth
century, is today revivified by dalit ideology as the foremost expression of their
consciousness of caste. Although now forgotten, tlie path and the theses of Ayotti
Das Kaviraja Pantitar (hereafter ADKP) have had a distinct impact.&dquo;
all other caste divisions in their ranks. For more details see Dagmar Hellmann-Rajanayagam, The
Tamil TigersArmed Struggle for Identity, London, 1993. Caste feeling remains strong, however, to
such a point that Sri Lankan emigrants regroup according to that criterion. There are, increasingly,
incidents between the LTTE on the one hand, and the Muslims and the Tamils of the interior (called
ar) who are always inclined to try and gain recognition of their rights by means other
l
t&omacr;ttatami
than armed rebellion. These last were represented in the present coalition government by the minister
Thondaman (d. 1999). Further, the approach to the problem is changing:
(i) Dalit awarenessinspires an intense effort amongst Sri Lankan Tamils to chronicle the move-
ment against untouchability with a more critical evaluation of popular Tamil leaders; see the
articles by Paranthaman, Sarinihar, No. 168, March 1999, No. 169; April 1999, No. 170;
May 1999, and Tamilarasan, Exil, No. 5, January-February 1999, and No.6, March-April
1999. Further, now the Tigers are forced to recruit from the dalit castes still remaining in Sri
Lanka; this change in the composition of forces fighting for Eelam is reflected in their ideo-
logical views. Lastly, abroad it is Hindu culture and the caste system which prevails in the
name of Tamil culture, thus maintaining the traditional religious dominance of Jaffna (Brian
Pfaffenberger, Caste in Tamil Culture: The Religious Foundations of Sudra Domination in

Tamil Sri Lanka, New York, 1982) against which dalit awareness and protest may even be
labelled a betrayal of the Tamil cause.
(ii) The present situation of Tamil Muslims, when they are forced by the LTTE to evacuate their
home areas, puts them in a quandary between continuing to play an undefined role in the
struggle for Eelam and moving towards a separate territory for themselves. This further
taints the image of the Tamil independence movement as being responsible for a persecu-
tion of a minority within a minority. See Muhammed Salim, Oru n r
Ci
m ai cam&umacr;kattin
up&amacr;
aikal (Problems of a Minority Community), 4 vols, Colombo, 1997-98.
n
piracci
(iii) The aruntatiyar, the lowest among the untouchables who migrated in the recent past, face
the problem of their caste not yet being registered in Sri Lanka. Discussions are currently
going on about their position vis-à-vis the Tamil independence movement. See the fortnightly
columns by Aruntatiyan, Talittiyak ku ippukal in Sarinihar, 1998; and A. Marx, interview
r
with Aruntatiyan, Eucci talit muracu, September 1999.
l
22
V. Geetha and S. V. Rajadurai, Dalits and Non-Brahmin Consciousness in Colonial Tamil Nadu,
EPW, Vol. 28, No. 39, 25 September 1993, pp. 2091-98. We thank S. V. Rajadurai for lending us all

30
ADKP, a paiicamar, was born in 1845 in a village in Coimbatore district and

spent his youth in the Nilgiris. Nothing is known of his formative years, although
there must have been some contact with British residents and it is known that he
came under the influence of a guru whose name he adopted as his own pseudonym,
the only name by which he is known. ADKP had a glimmering of Indian and
western philosophies in Sanskrit, Pali and English. Midway between being a pandit
and an autodidact, he quotes indifferently from classical Tamil texts in the best
editions, in those days quite new, and from compilations that are apocryphal and
very little criticised. He was married and his son, Pattabiraman, followed in his
footsteps. His brother-in-law Rettamalai Srinivasan, was a well-known figure in
politics and participated in the famous Round Table Conference in London in
1930. He may have known and even influenced Ambedkar. ADKP, adhering to
Advaita Vedanta, founded an Advaitananda Sabha in the Nilgiris in 1870 with the
aim of thwarting the noisy proselytising of Christian missionaries; then, in 1881,
he founded the Dravida Mahajana Sangam whose first conference on December
1881 proclaimed a positive charter along the lines of the Self-Respect Movement,
in favour of the rights and social status of the paraiyan- to be called thereafter
Pfirva Tamilar (the ancient Tamils). Its conclusions, addressed to Congress and
Muslim leaders, produced no echo in spite of the creation, in 1886, of a journal,
Tiriivitap pantiyan.
ADKP was closely involved with the Theosophical Society and, along with
Annie Besant and Colonel Olcott, founded a school for paficamar in Madras; he
accompanied Olcott to Ceylon in 1898, discovered Buddhism and in 1902 after
his return to Madras, founded the Chakya Buddhist Sangam in Royappettah, an
active instrument of propaganda. The National Congress of Surat, in 1906, put an
end to his remaining illusions about mainstream politics; in 1907 he started a
weekly magazine, Oru Paica Tamilan, One 1aisa Tamilan, later Tamilan (at the
demand of its readers). After his death in 1914. his son managed the magazine for
a year, after which it was started again by G. Appaduraier at Kolar Gold Fields,
at least between December 1926 and June 1934. A trust, Sri Siddharta Puttakacalai,
continued to publish as low-priced booklets his texts, and texts of the Self-Respect
Movement right up to the end of the 1950s. The influence of ADKP is even more
marked in a brochure by Maduraiyar which reaffirms the connection between the
battle for self-respect and a Buddhist past.21 In other cases, such as M. Macilamani
Mutaliyars Varuna pata vilakkam (Explication of the Differences between
Castes),24 the original reference to Buddhism vanished and was replaced by the
.
~-~--
the primary source material of his own study, which was otherwise inaccessible to us. V. Revathy
also kindly allowed us to consult her M.Phil dissertation, The Emergence of Dalits in Tamil Nadu:
A Study of Leadership and Ideology, Department of History, Pondicherry University, 1994,
published (in Tamil) as n akatti talit araciyal mu
l
Tami otikal, Pondicherry, 1997.
n
23
Aka-Pura camayankal (Interior-Exterior Religions), Kolar Gold Fields (hereafter KGF), 1935.
24
This is a text from the late nineteenth century, but was first published in Tamil in 1925 by KGF.

31
conflict between Shudra and Brahmin. The references to E.V. Ramasami Periyar
and to the Self-Respect Movement are obligatory.
In order to appropriate Indian history, ADKP begins with a radical and sub-
versive deconstruction of Hinduism: for the paraiyar no compromise is possible,
neither historically, with the Brahmins, nor politically, with the reformist nation-
alism of the Congress, and not with the Muslims either. Moreover, neither Islam
nor Christianity can profit from this alienation. The hypothesis of secularism in
the western sense is not even envisaged. Buddhism remains the only form of pro-
test and dissidence that allows the paraiyan both to affirm and to light up his
subjectivity. All that remains is to accumulate arguments for the pa_raiyar being
the first dwellers on Indian soil and for Buddhism as their natural ideology: India
is the land of Buddha, whose names it bears Indirar, he who has mastered the
-
five senses (iraliriyam) and Varada, from which are drawn India and Bharat.
The Brahmins of today are nothing but false Brahmins, arya mleccha, barbarian
invaders, appearing late on the scene and substituting themselves for the genuine
ones whom they then reduced to the condition of paraiyan; these perfidious im-
posters are all in disguise. It was the naivety of the Orientalists themselves, starting
with Max Muller, that caused them to accept the texts and myths as given, thereby
confirming the occlusion of the authentic Hindu religion. Such, in substance, is
the content of Intirar 18ca carittiram (The History of Indirar Desam),25 and of
Yatrttapirmafla vitantavivaram (The History of the Real Brahmin),6 and of
Vsapirmafla vtantavivaram (History of the False Brahmin ),:0 presented in
the form of brief question-and-answer catechisms,28 and of an indigestible scientific
compilation, Purvattamilo!iym puttaratu ativctam (The Original Veda of the
Buddha, Light of Ancient Tamil), first published during his lifetime as tracts in
supplements to his journal.&dquo; The other half of what we have been able to consult
of the works of ADKP reinterpret or reclaim on behalf of his primitive Buddhism
a certain number of the glories of Tamil, tacitly annexed by Brahmanism. He
starts with Tiruvalluvar, the author of Tirukkur.a!, ,0 and continues wth the Tirukkural
katavul vlttu;31 (read tiri [three] kural in conformity with the tri-pitaka); he adds
the popular poetess Auvaiyar, whose poems bear witness in favour of the Buddha,
texts with gloss by ADPK32 and then goes on to tackle Sh~va-Kapalishvara in the
sanctuary of the temple at Mylapore, who is interpreted as being the Buddha with
25
Intirar t&emacr;ca caritt&imacr;ram, 2nd edn. KGF, 1957.
26
Yat&amacr;rttapir&amacr;mana v&emacr;tantavivaram, 2nd edn, KGF, 1932.
27
V&emacr;sapir&amacr;mana v&emacr;tantavivaram, 2nd edn, KGF, 1932.
28
Puttam&amacr;rkka vi &amacr;vitai (Questions and Answers on Buddhism) 5th edn, KGF, 1955; Viv&amacr;ka vilakkam
n
(Explanation of Marriage), 4th edn, KGF, 1926.
29
oliy&amacr;m puttaratu &amacr;tiv&emacr;tam (The Original Veda of the Buddha, Light of Ancient Tamil),
l
P&umacr;rvattami
Madras, 1922.
Tiruvalluvar varal
30 u (History of Tiruvalluvar), 4th edn, KGF, 1950.
&amacr;r
al katavul vä
r
Tirikku
31 ttu (Tirukkural, Invocation to God), 3rd edn, KGF, 1950.
l
32
n
Ampikaiyamma
&imacr; Sr aruliya tiriv&amacr;cakam (Tirivacakam given by Sri Ampikaiamman), 1st edn,
KGF. 1927, completed in Sr n varal&amacr;ru (History of Sri Ampikaiamman), 4th edn,
Ampikaiyamma
&imacr;
KGF, 1929.

32
his begging bowl;33 next, the sacred ash,34 as well as the symbols of worship and
the figures popular in Tamil devotion and imagination, such as the guardian of
the cremation grounds, the King Harishchandra and the god Murukan whom he
turns into a monk.35
An evaluation of ADPK is difficult. Aside from his magazine, nothing of his
that was published during his lifetime was available from the time of his death
until the 1990s; yet the posthumous and continuing success of his works is remark-
able. Numerous booklets were reprinted, often in as many as five editions, up
until the 1960s. From 1993, his works have been exhumed and interest is again
focused on him from two complementary points of view: as the conscience of the
Tamil dalit and as a precursor of the neo-Buddhism of Ambedkar. In 1999, two
collections of his works have been published, one by the Dalit Sahitya Akademi,
Madras, and another by the folklore unit of St Xaviers College, Tirunelveli under
the titles Ayotti teap papjitar ciratc~n_aikcal and Aytti tacar cintanaikaJ respectively,
two volumes each so far. His struggle remained ineffective, however, since he
never really abandoned the ideological sphere for that of politics, notwithstanding
his contacts with that world and especially with two politicians, R. Srinivasan
-
(1860-1945) and M.C. Rajah (1883-1947) both members of the Madras Legis-
-
lative Council whose roles in the promotion of the untouchables are known
throughout India.
A general study by G. Al®yslus36 throws some light on the history of this Tamil
Buddhist movement between Madras and Kolar Gold Fields, and traces the link
with Ambedkar through a book by P. Lakshmi l~arasu, The Essence of Buddhism,
for the third edition of which Ambedkar wrote the Preface.37 Aloysius consistently
omits the name of R. Srinivasan, though he quotes from his short autobiography38
probably because of Srinivasans well-argued opposition to conversion to Buddh-
ism initiated by Olcott and ADKP and proposed, later, by Ambedkar. Although
well documented, Aloysius book loses itself in verbose ideology of programmatic
partnership between Tamil Buddhism and the Dravidian movement. The author
lacks the distance which alone could provide a pan-Indian perspective, as found
in an early article by Adele Fiske .39 That perspective is the only one by which
may be measured the incompatibilities between traditional, renunciatory Buddhist
organisations with roles for the clergy, Indian and otherwise, and the republican
trend. Much as these two groups may work together in, for instance, certain social
33
n carttira &amacr;r&amacr;ycci (The Enquiry of the Skull-Bearers Story), 3rd edn, KGF, 1932.
Kap&amacr;l&imacr;ca
14 &amacr;r&amacr;ycci (The Enquiry of the Holy Ash), 3rd edn, KGF, 1932.
Vip&umacr;ti
35
p
n oykal (Harishchandra Lies), 5th edn, KGF, 1950; Sr
Ariccantira &imacr; Murukakkatavul varal&amacr;
u
r
(The Birth of Monk Murugan), 3rd edn, KGF, 1930.
36
G. Aloysius, Religion as Emancipatory Identity: A Buddhist Movement Among the Tamils under
Colonialism, New Delhi, 1998.
37
Madras,1907; Ambedkar wrote a preface for the third edn, Bombay, 1948.
38 One of its undeniable practical points is the exhortation of the untouchables to stick to their
values in order to keep intact the privileges given by the colonial government.
39
A. Fiske, Scheduled Caste Buddhist Organisations in J. Michael Mahar, ed., The Untouchables
in Contemporary India, New Delhi, 1998.

33
welfare programmes, the republican viewpoint continues to see Buddhism as an

ideology, whether politically oriented or not, which may be effectively opposed
to Hinduism, in the form into which the latter has been welded by the upper
castes in their own interests. Moreover, in todays Tamil Nadu ADI~Ps vision has
become inadequate; the dalit Christians are no longer a model nor an object of
envy to others, and Buddhism is excluded since it too has become a stigma, not
forgetting that Sri Lankan Buddhism has its own caste system. The most recent
temptation has been Islam and conversions of dalit villages have been frequent,
from Meenakshipuram in 1981 to Kootharampakkam, 90 kilometers from Chennai,
very recently. In the light of the incidents in Coimbatore in 1998, fresh suspicion
is cast on any such conversions while it is debatable whether the Muslims are
really eager to join forces with the dalits.
Dalits today, however, still manifest a disrespect for, and questioning of, the
Hindu gods that was a hallmark of ADKP.40 We note the most sensational forms
of this in the ostentatious blasphemies of Periyar, who belongs to the same intel-
lectual family as those who edited ADKP after his death, and in the more subtle
form of the discreet negativism touched with the humour of Putumaippittan, the
grand master of modern Tamil in whom there is a resurgence of interest lately. To
credit the Kannada author Siddhalingayya with having introduced dialogues of
down-to-earth and rational intimacy with the supernatural world of gods and god-
desses, in his Avataragalu in 198 1, is to forget that at the meeting in Madras 40
years earlier, between God and Kandasami Pillai over two cups of coffee, in the
celebrated short story by Putumaippittan, the Creator was accused of total inability
to adapt himself to the world in which his host was struggling. Already, gods and
goddesses were having to fight for survival. The political tone is certainly different
but in the long term the like-minded draw together, and it may be that some type
of secular humanism will attract sympathy, especially outside India, from those
who support the fight against intolerance, but probably still without producing a
workable solution for the dalits.
A 1)etonator with a Long Fuse: The Massacre of I~ilvenrnani, 1968
In 1933 Henri Michaux believed that the caste system would not survive Indian
Independence; yet, 20 years on from 1947, in the east of Thanjavur (today Nagai
District), the revolt of the 90 per cent dalit farm workers against their mirasdar
took a violent turn at the approach of the monsoon: with strikes, reprisals with the
complicity of the police, and three murders of communist cadres CPI (M), the
Naxalite menace was seen descending from Bengal and Telengana onto the fertile
delta of Thanjavur. On the night of 25 December 1968, a punitive expedition was
40
See the theoretical works of Raj Gautaman, or his humourous piece ... p&amacr;v&amacr;tai avat&amacr;ram (Incar-
amani cutar, Special Issue on Dalit Literature, 31 December 1994, an amusing
nation as Pavatai), Ti
n
and original caricature of a popular heroic ballad but also an example of the artificial creation in-
spired by subaltern ideology.

34
sent out by a big landowner, the president of the association of rice farmer of the
district, Gopala Krishna Naidu, against Kilvenmani, a village of pallar and paraiycar
dalits. The men fled; 16 women, five old people and 23 children, terrified, shut
themselves in a hut. They were surrounded and burned alive, all 44 of them.
Twenty-three people were charged. In 1976 the Supreme Court of India upheld
eight convictions; only four were eventually effective. Gopala Krishna Naidu
was assassinated in December 1980. The progressive Dravidian government
and the press maintained discretion. The searching enquiry by the American anthro-
pologist Kathleen Gough was published in India 20 years later. 41 Incidents of this
nature still happen; skirmishes on a lesser scale are frequent enough to hold the
attention of the more sober sections of the press.42 The extent of the deliberate
massacre of Kilvenmani is an example the memory of which is still in evidence:
a memorial on the site; a theme for reflection and motivation for leftist militants3
and, lastly, a literary theme whose treatment is of direct interest because of the
perspective it provides on the preoccupations of Tamil writers at the time when

the Dalit Panthers of Maharashtra were springing up and making their literature
happen.
What is most striking is the absence of immediate reaction to the massacre at
the very moment when all extreme forms of Nlarxist-Leninist-li~aoists were vying
with each other vociferously in intellectual circles, and when the image of the
angry young man, personified by the Hindi film actor Amitabh Bachchan was
bursting onto the Hindi cinema screen. Numerous communist poets versified on
the class struggle; others, more refined, disputed over poetry (cf. the eight numbers
of the literary journal Nafai). It was left to a Brahmin, Gnanakkuttan (bom 1938),
living in Madras, deeply rooted in his Vaishnavite cultural tradition as well as in
the metre_ of formal poetry, yet disturbed by innovation and critical to the point of
sarcasm of the heavy sentimentality of progressive Dravidian politics, to write a
short poem in 1969,&dquo; in 13 edgy lines which build towards a calculated effect in
41
Kathleen Gough, Rural Change in South-East India: 1950s to 1980s, New Delhi, 1989, pp.
186-89, 446-62; and idem, Rural Society in Southeast Asia, New Delhi, 1981.
42
Sandhya Rao, S. Viswanathan, T. S. Subramanian, Dalits and the Politics of Caste, 2 parts.
Frontline, 1 December 1995, pp. 106-11, and 15 December 1995, pp. 75-80, a detailed enquiry
which concludes that ... it would take more than a stringent law such as the Protection of Civil
Rights Act to alter attitudes nurtured over centuries ... casteism and prejudice against Dalits were
not just alive but practically rule everyday life. The memory of Kilvenmani is evoked by one of
the interviewees, the local secretary of the CPI(M). It was reawakened by the massacre of dalits by
the police on the banks of the river Tamraparani in Tirunelveli in July 1999, and which was equated
by the public and the press with the infamous massacre at Jallianwala Bagh; cf., S. Viswanathan,
Police in the Dock, Frontline, 24 September 1999. Kilvenmani is again used as a plot in the docu-
mentary novel by Solai Suntara Perumal, Cennel (Red Paddy), Tiruvarur, 1999, written in the
Thanjavur (Tamil) dialect and from the classic Marxist perspective of class struggle rather than
from a dalit point view.
43
W. R. Varadharajan, Venmani, Madras, 1978, 3rd edn, Madras, 1989.
44
Reprinted in unr v&emacr;
A u Ki
r amai (That was Another Day), Sivagangai, 1976, and in M&imacr;ntum
l
avarkal (Them Again), Madras, 1994, p. 6.

35
the last one. It airily skims over an anonymous area without apparent emotion
and with a feigned detachment; only the title gives the key to understand, and an
impetus to become indignant, to whomsoever might take the trouble. Is this then
simply a mechanical and dispassionate stylistic exercise?
Kilvenmani
Huts of plaited palm leaves,
Which seemed to be the pregnant womb
Of the supine earth,
Were turned into a forest of ashes.
When the dawn came in smoke,

The people of the village came and gathered,
They said: these were sparrows. -
They said: these were children.

They said: were these women?
And these were the cows of the herd.
Of all that burned that night

They found the remains,
Except of one thing: civilisation.
(our translation)
Nobody any longer feels like being grateful to a Brahmin for having looked beyond
his agraharam or the office where he works in Madras. Even the choice of the
Tamil term nkarikam (civilisation), which expresses not so much fundamental
humanity as cultural refinement, was seen here as a contrived understatement
inappropriate to the situation. Nowadays, people are less aware of the mastery of
the author than they are of his apparent coldness. A rather constrained poet,
Gnanakkuttan did not have the necessary gift of communication.
Where was the event to find its Zola? In 1975, while the guilty verdict quashed
by the Madras High Court was in abeyance in the Supreme Court, there appeared
a novel, Kurutippunal (Streams of Blood), by Indra Parthasarathy, the pen name
of Ranganathan Parthasarathi, again a Brahmin, who had been writing for 15

years and was a lecturer in Tamil at the University of Delhi. He was known in
progressive literary circles for short stories and novels severe towards the hypocrisy
of the bourgeoisie, Tamil and otherwise, who reigned in Delhi, and also for his
mastery of the art of tracing, through tortuous and introspective dialogues, the
intimate innermost secrets of his protagonists. In 1977, one year after the Supreme
Court decision, the novel was honoured by the Sahitya Akademi. A seventh edition
came out in 1992. Kilvenmani is not named, but the story is the same:
Gopal, born in Delhi of an inter-caste marriage, his father a Naidu and his mother a Brahmin,
teaches sociology in Delhi. Frustrated hy the atmosphere in the capital, he goes back to his an-
cestral village near Thanjavur. A friend, Shiva, a man of science, comes to spend his leave with
him. The two intellectuals-in-exile lodge with a communist school-teacher Ramaiyya and have
their meals in the eating house of Vativelu. Vativelu is the illegitimate child of a concubine of
the father of Kannaiya Naidu, the big landowner who wants to knock down the eating house, a

36
haunt of communists of bad reputation. The confrontation between the feudal oppression of the
Naidu and the Harijans who are fighting for their dues forms the core of the conversations
between the two men. They involve themselves in the struggle to the extent of talking to the
appropriate officials and to a minister; they are shocked by the apathy of these people. Gopal
attempts to intervene with the Naidu on behalf of Vativelu, but the interview turns into an
exchange of insults on their respective births. Gopal is found beaten unconscious behind the
hut of a pallcar prostitute called Pappatti; it is a frame-up, guaranteed to lose him his reputation.
He complains in vain to the police. The eating house is demolished and Vativelu and Pappatti
disappear. Further complaints are ineffective; even the minister, titillated by the story of Pappatti,
will do nothing. The Naidu makes an accusation: a communist plot, masterminded from outside,
has incited these day labourer riff-raff against him, a good citizen. It emerges, however, that the
Naidu is an impotent voyeur who is forcing Vativelu and Pappatti to couple while he watches.
In the action mounted to free them, a guard is killed and the police arrest the schoolteacher. His
friends try to take charge of the agricultural workers cause but Naidu breaks the strike. lets
Pappatti be savagely killed by his henchmen and accuses Gopal of the murder (a recurring
theme in morality scandals: men of higher castes are always supposed to be fascinated by women
of lower castes). Shiva is arrested as an accomplice when Gopal and Vativelu flee to Nagappat-
tinam. They return too late to circumvent the plans of the Naidu who has already attacked the
village. But they are in time to see his men throwing back into the filames the women and chil-
dren who have taken refuge in a hut then set on fire by the Naidus men under the indifferent
eyes of the police. Gopal, laughed at triumphantly and contemptuously by the Naidu, vomits
into the canal whose clear waters enchanted him when he had arrived and in which, today, he
sees a stream of blood reflected, wide enough to swallow the whole village....
The massacre occupies one page out of 231: the streams of blood, designated in
more popular terms by iratta vejJam (flood of blood perhaps not literary enough
to serve as a title but certainly direct) which swallow up the village are themselves
drowned in the waves of intellectual rhetoric on the subject of class struggle and
the role of the Communist Party. The actual protagonists are host the bonded agri-
cultural workers wanting to break their chains but, first, the boss who oppresses
them to compensate (on a Freudian model, quite derisory and devoid of social
dimension) for his physiological impotence, and then the idealists who attempt to
organise the workers and in so doing discover them, as they discover the
aesthetic charms of the village after the sophistication of Delhi (without, however,
sharing their language, their labours or their limitations). Every subtlety of sub-
jective analysis is given to these intellectuals. Cut off from the rural world, they
lose their illusions because they happen to be there at that time. Though they
receive a number of blows, they remain strangers to the reality over which they
pore searchingly while it remains impenetrable to them. This point of view, that
of the outside observer, subtle, sympathetic, doctrinaire and ultimately passive, is
without a doubt the most common stereotype and persistent curse in contemporary
imaginative Tamil fiction, issuing mostly from the urbanised middle-class with
which it shares its language, ideas and myopic vision.
Legitimate emotion and revolt can be felt to vibrate in quite another register.
77kkuJiyal (The Firebath ) is an anonymous ballad in the form of the Tamil heroic
poetry of the sixteenth nineteenth centuries, which has the untouchables as
to
protagonists. The language is modern, the style sentimental and romantic and the

37
declamation geared to moving the listening public to tears and to putting across a
direct revolutionary message, as this brief excerpt shows:
On that day, the enslaved people were crammed together, crunched up in corners and clad in the
cold wind. On that night the earth was like an immense burning ground, the mountains towered
like funeral pyres, the electric and telegraph poles stood like crosses. The sky, which had taken
from her forehead the beneficient sign of the moon, was as empty as the heart of a widow. The
trucks of the bosses, crueller than Yama (the god of death) and their henchmen, charging like a
herd of buffalo, were advancing as if the darkness had legs; the bicycle chains were like the
lasso of death around this abandoned hamlet, helpless and without hope. Beneath the hooves of
these crazed buffaloes, the population of Venmani, precious and dear as the pupils of our eyes,
scattered like grains of rice and ran and crammed themselves into a hut, full to the brim like a
sack of jute. The dwelling, gigantic and demonic, opened its mouth, offered its lips and sat
there, indistinguishable from the shadows that rejoiced at having swallowed their prey. Petrol
came down in a heavy rain and the hut was plunged into a sea of gas. The henchmen all around
like a wall of flesh, firebrands everywhere, were there to dance their cruel dance of ghouls. On
the look-out round the hut, the brands hissed in their poisonous fury and threw themselves upon
it, beating at it. Then the snake bit the hut with his tongues of flame and the roof took fire and
crackled. Masters, bosses, mad dogs, you who chop up the body of Venmani like firewood, who
build a pyre and set light to it, in years to come, if indeed the years continue to roll on, this fire
will bum and will become the pyre you have yourselves built for your own funerals.
This song has been circulated for 10 years or so among extremist groups, in
favour of an armed revolution, in order to help sensitise their recruits to the in-
justices and cruelties of the system. It was published in 1985 as a simple pamphlet
of 18 pages of text and 20 pages of an introduction signed by Eritalal (The Fire-
brand),45 telling the story of the agricultural workers of Thanjavur and calling
for vengeance for the massacre of Kilvenmani. It is not by chance that this sole,
authentically dalit, inspirational text is also the one most directly modelled, and
not without talent, upon a genuine popular tradition with all the power of its
images, refrains and rhythms.
Unidentified Dalits: Explorers and Marginal Figures
The literary failure to rise to the challenge of Kilvenmani, even more striking
today since the memory and the symbolic weight of the episode has been made so
immediate, emphasises the political immaturity of middle-class literature, con-
ditioned by the limitations of its public and those of a cultural heritage that excludes
the dalits. At the same time, however, good writers are opening up avenues, their
talent or their sensitivity inciting them to explore new subjects without their ever
dreaming of claiming the label of dalit. An example is Pumani (mentioned earlier),
who belongs to the group of regional authors from the extreme south of Tamil
Nadu called karical after its black soil. Without romanticism,or tragedy, Pumani
has described the confrontation of the poor with their poor soil due solely to the
45
Recently reprinted under the authorship of Navakavi, Venmani (Venmani), Sivagangai, December
1993, for the 25th anniversary of the Kilvenmani massacre.

38
existence of a countryside without recourse or hope: dry land, haunted by poverty

and scarcity, a land of cotton and millet, of herds without pasture, of fallow lands
without shade, denied irrigation, progress or education for the young. Prose as
arid as the soil is used as a scalpel, starting with such titles as It Hurts and The
Order of Things. A first collection of short stories, Vayi[uka! (Ihe Stomachs),46
bypasses the Marxist formula of oppressors and oppressed with humour in which
there is, however, little leniency. A first novel, Pa~-caku (L,ater On),47 describes
with clinical precision and without pretension the life of a family of cobblers, the
lowest of untouchables. The implacable rigidity of the system is suggested only
through the austere quest for a little love and humanity on the part of the outcasts
whose protest limits them to living the inevitable without complaint while remain-
ing unresigned. A second novel, Vekkai (VVaves of Heat),48 tells of the inner con-
flict of an adolescent in a family of small farmers, progressively driven to the
brink of violence when his elder brother is killed in the course of a long drawn
out confrontation with the big landowners who want to take away the familys
land. The limits of Pumanis narrative technique are apparent: mechanical plot

links substituted for real plotting, description, automatic and without individuality.
The suffocating dryness of the observation quenches the passions and engenders
monotony. A dry author who writes very little, Pumani is unlikely to gain wide
popularity, but he has been able to create his own style even at the risk of becoming
trapped in it. Free of all political allegiance and resistant to any affiliation, he
would have been insistently wooed by the dalits had not a third novel, in 1985,
asserted his position as an independent writer. Naiv8jam (Ritual Offerings9
describes the degeneration and the sufferings of a Brahmin who survives in a
poor agraharam by leasing his land to low-caste farmers who mercilessly exploit
.
and despise him. This novel is the height of treason from a dalit point of view.
Pumani however eschews self-criticism; his third collection of short stories
(1V®rurikcal, Crushed ),5 and his recent works reaffirms his direction: with a little
humanity and much disrespect, his peasants remain genuine and so does their
language.
G. Nagarajan (1929-81) was the most marginal of contemporary writers. He
was a Brahmin and an atheist, a militant Marxist who broke with the Communist
Party, a sensitive and brilliant professor of English (he left an unpublished novel
in that language), an adulterer, smoker of ganja and other drugs, alcoholic and
bohemian. He chose to live apart from his peers, whom he never ceased to defy,
in order to be closer to the teeming crowds in city streets and slums, the migrants
from villages in search of work, those untouchables, whether genuine or not, who,
as prostitutes and pimps, are constantly harassed by the police and who are without
scope or future. His ghost still seduces authors whose short stories make of him a
46
Pumani, ukal, Sivagangai,
r
Vayi 1975.
47
Pi
a
r
Pumani, ku, Sivagangai, 1979.
48
Vekkai, Madras, 1982.
Pumani,
49
Naiv&emacr;tyam, Madras, 1985.
Pumani,
50
unkal, Madras, 1990.
Pumani, No
r

39
mythic figure of rebellion and catharsis in their imagined aspirations towards

revolution.51 The theoreticians for their part compete in prattling about him
according to a borrowed intellectual schema, non-linear and post-modem, and of
untenable analogies between the man and his legend (as for instance, with Jean
Gen6t), but continue to ignore his works which, rare and somewhat inaccessible,
deserve better. A recent reprint has not changed the situation in any noticeable
way.52 He published several short stories in his lifetime but only one collection,
Kantatum kittatum (Seen and 1-leard), two short novels Kurattirreutukku and N!ai
marrum oru nale ( Tomorrow is Another l~ay ),53 which the author presents like
this:
It is the life of an ordinary man. The base acts you would have committed had you dared, the
boldness you would have shown had you been forced to it, the sicknesses you would have
caught had you been tempted and the infamy that would have marked you had you fallen: these
are what his life is made up of. You need not know what tomorrow will be like for him. For, for
him as for most of us, tomorrow is another day.
For the first time a troubling reality enters Tamil literature: a marginal society
which is so close to the establishment that it sticks to its skin in an unsettling way.
The two societies are linked by many synaesthetic correspondences and reflect
each other at deep levels of Tamil culture and tradition but are unable to help each
other. Nagarajan is there, listening for these liminal voices which speak of them-
selves and dream among themselves, surviving on the edge of the abyss. He neither
narrates nor judges; invisible, he lends them his language, the language of Madurai,
and his style which is direct, lucid, responsible and aware of bearing the derision
of the world. That insubstantial branch of humanity, dwelling on the edges without
hope, consecrated to death and nothingness, throws in the face of established
order, through the fraternal engagement of the writer and his revealing presence,
a question which that order can no longer hide from.
Indian literature is full of the glamour of palaces and temples. It takes a strong
character to introduce therein the excitement of the fringes and the powerful images
required to rivet attention on the distress of the humbled. Coming, like Pumani,
from the black earth of Kovilpatti, Pa. Ceyappirakacam (who also writes under
the name of Suriyatipan), has succeeded in drawing from everyday local customs
a telling image of discrimination: pallar women are not allowed to wear flowers
51
Asokamittiran, Viral in Mu aippen (finger in Mu
r aippen a kinship term for prospective or
r —
potential bride/fiancé), Madas, 1984; Dilip Kumar, Aintu rupayum alukku cattaikk&amacr;rarum (Five
Rupees and a Man with a Soiled Shirt), in M&umacr;nkil kuruttu (Bamboo Shoot), Madras, 1985; Konanki,
Mañcal &umacr;rru (Yellow Spring), in Pommaikal utaipatum nakaram (Town Where Dolls Break),
Sivagangai, 1992; Pirapancan, Orunal (One Day) in Nacukkam (Crushing), Madras, 1993. The
last was selected by Ilakkiya Cintanai, a literary forum, as the best collection of short stories for the
year 1992.
52
G. Nagarjan, G. N&amacr;kar&amacr;can pataippukal (Collected works of G. Nagarajun), Nagarkovil, 1997.
53 G. Nagarjan, Kantataum k emacr; (That which is seen and heard), Madurai, 1971; idem,
&ttatum
attimutukku (Kurattimutukku), Madurai, 1963, 2 reprints in 1994; idem, N&amacr;lai ma
r
Ku um oru
rr
n&amacr;l&emacr;, (Tomorrow is Just Another Day), Madurai,1974, 2nd edn, 1983.

40
in their hair, as is otherwise the custom throughout south India, including among
the women of the local landowning reddiyar castes. The pallar wear the flowers
suspended from the marriage jewel, the tali, worn as a necklace. This makes
them, if anything, more desirable, and one story begins with the arrival in the
village of a young bride and the animated evocation of a dance:
The ululation of the pallar women with flowers in their ttili rose up. The flowers, fastened to the
end of the tali, danced on their chests and seemed to draw their perfume directly from their
breasts. No women, except the reddiyar women, were allowed to wear flowers in their hair; the
simple fact of wearing them on the tali identified these women as low caste women....~4
As a very beautiful young bride, Taili comes to live in her husbands village and
discovers a world of oppression quite new to her. First, there is the most consistent
theme of village life: the higher caste men are obsessed by the physical attractions
of the untouchable women whom they invariably perceive as desirable and easy,
so they harass them unceasingly until they yield. Thus Taili is followed and accosted
everywhere, from the lake to the grocery shop. The reddiyar come and fool around
in front of her house the better to watch her. Her husband, furious but unable to
confront them, turns his impotent rage upon his wife. Taking advantage of the
difficult season when agricultural work is over and day labourers have no jobs, a
rich, married reddiyar offers Taili work in his house where she can earn the grain
she needs. She accepts, and he persecutes her with his advances at the same time
as she finds herself up against all the caste restrictions which the jealous reddiyar
women throw at her. One day she dares to ask his permission to go directly along
the village streets to bring water to his house. He hesitates, then is overcome by
passion and agrees. The next day brings scandal: an untouchable is walking along
the village street and even more scandalous
-
she is wearing sandals. She

-
proudly claims to have her employers permission, but in vain. The village assemb-
ly meets, the reddiyar wriggles out of it and refuses to back her up: she is con-
demned to drive the village cows and buffaloes to pasture outside the village each
day and all alone.
A last pathetic image contrasts violently with the first: the solitary, fragile figure
of a woman seen from behind, hair unbound, leaving the village at dawn with the
herds. Once again, it is only by recourse to popular imagination, heavy with sym-
bols and affectivity, that the laborious dreary poverty of sexual oppression and
servitude is transcended. A writer who is not a dalit paves the way, perhaps acci-
dentally, for a dalit literature whose expression takes up a more imaginative element
from dalit folklore. Unfortunately this remains to be rediscovered before it can be
exploited.&dquo;
54
Pa. Ceyappirakacam, T&amacr;liyil p&umacr;cc&umacr;tiyavarkal (Those Who Wear Flowers in the Tali) in idem,
Oru kir&amacr;mattu r&amacr;ttirikal (Nights of a Village), Madras, 1978, pp. 38-39.
55
The academic study of folklore of the school of N. Vanamamalai has fixed its subject under the
twofold theoretical rigidity of Marxism and structuralism; aesthetic perception comes later, spon-
taneously exploited by Sujata and, more systematically, by K. Rajanarayanan who was himself

41
A little-known writer, Ekbert Sachchidanandan born in Madurai and for 20

years a teacher in a public secondary school in Kanchipuram, in 15 stories written
between 1986 and 1999 and as yet uncollected, also puts a style and language at
the service of a micro-community, a Protestant sect within the Christian minority
which, in terms of dalit politics, has a real importance. Set apart and having neither
literary relationships nor involvement in social activism, Sachchidanandan, with
disillusioned but effective irony, denounces feudalism as it is maintained by the
religious system to which he belongs and in which he believes. His Christian
values are in contradiction to the Christian intrigues he describes. His sympathies
are with those n,-,mbers of a religious hierarchy who are oppressed, moulded by
bureaucracy and by the spirit of caste. The force and originality of his irony depends
upon his using the language of the executioner to speak of the victims, leaving to
biblical vocabulary and the phraseology of Christian charity, which always seem
foreign and strange in Tamil, the job of denouncing, on his behalf, the travesty
that has been made of an ethic and the cold hypocrisy associated with it. The
writer conceals himself behind his borrowed words and behind a certain narrative
skill which gives the impression, quite falsely, that nothing matters, even if inad-
missible things are happening in the story. The misleading impression of confidence
and serenity creates both distance and contention, even though the author consist-
ently maintains the constrained reserve and dignity of his heroes. The sacristan is
treated as the lowest of domestic servants by everyone from the pastor, his family
and the church administration to the schoolmasters in the private school system,
who are exploited and tyrannised by the corrupt and easily influenced administra-
tion which is imposed upon them. In terms of experience and narrative technique,
the world of Sachchidanandan is very much defined and limited and the author
does not seem to be moving forward: 1 1 stories out of 15 have the same theme,
yet, in the Tamil and pan-Indian dalit configuration of today, he represents a very
active and significant world. He is on the side of the oppressed and it is not im-
possible that he will one day turn his irony against the noisy, clamorous forms of
Christian militantism: the theology of liberation and the socio-religious
consciousness-raising which tend to be in the forefront and which give more im-
portance to words than to acts. We should also bear in mind that the essential part
of his message is certainly that the Christian idiolect, a markedly Tamil type,
proves to be a formidable instrument of irony, ultimately against the church itself.
To the extent that the diffused existence of a dalit consciousness gives place to
a social vision or to organised politics, we see a reduction of the distance that sep-
arates an independent writer and an aligned one. On the borderline between works
of literature and political writings, a Sri Lankan Tamil novelist in the 1960s played
the role of a significant catalyst despite being, then as now, a controversial figure.
K. Daniel (1927-86) belongs to a family of varcoaur, launderers, who along with
made aware of the values of popular traditions by the great critic and essayist Ti. Ke. Sitamparanata
Mudaliyar (1882-1954).

42
pallar, paraiyar, ampatfar (barbers) and nafavar (toddy-tappers) make up the

five groups of Tamil untouchables on the peninsula of Jaffna known as pancamcar.
A political activist, won over to the Maoist faction of the Communist Party, he
fought the discrimination against untouchables very actively in the 7-intiimai olippu
vekujana iyakkam (Popular Movement for the Eradication of Untouchability).
Dominic Jeeva (b. 1927), an orthodox Marxist writer of essays and short stories
(he also publishes the journal Mallikai, formerly from Jaffna and now from Col-
ombo), published the first volume of his autobiography in which he clearly reveals
himself as a dalit writer, being an ampajjan (barber) by caste, and claims that all
his past writings have, in fact, been dalit literature.56 He also tells of his early days
when both he and his friend and colleague K. Daniel faced caste discrimination
as writers and struggled against it. Such an image of two young Marxists, a barber
and a launderer, both still carrying out their traditional caste activities (as Jeeva
continued to do for sometime) while playing an active role in politics and literature,
was quite new and unexpected in Tamil Nadu, where they were valued as progres-
sivists and not identified as dalits.11 K. Daniel found himself isolated in an untenable
position declaring, in the face of the Tamil struggle for a separate state, that such
a state would make no sense if the rights of the untouchables were not guaranteed
first. He emphasised, in a manner pertinent but unpopular, that the call for a homo-
genous Tamil identity and the fight for a separate state were occluding the funda-
mental reality of the power of the dominant Tamil classes on the peninsula of
Jaffna; he never yielded to pressure on this point. For reasons of health and safety
he spent the final years of his life at Thanjavur in Tamil Nadu. His last works were
published in India and it is there that they are currently, reissued. He remains
ostracised by Sri Lankan Tamils because of what they call his bias towards caste,
but they are, nevertheless, constrained to recognise his value as a writer. ~ancarnar
remains his most important novel, but a series of five others completes a picture
which is still faithful to the struggle of the untouchables in the Tamil society of
the island.5x The language alternates between the paficamar dialect and standard
56
Dominic Jeeva, E utappat&amacr;ta kavitaikku varaiyappat&amacr;ta cittiram (An Undrawn Painting for an
l
Unwritten Poem), Colombo, 1999.
57
Cf., Dominic J&imacr;va Ci
ukataikal, Colombo, 1996. Similarly, Mu. Talaiya Cinkam (1935-73), who
r
was introduced by Sundara Ramasami in Tamil Nadu (cf., Talaiya cinkattin pirapañca yatarttam
[Universal Reality of Talaiyacinkam]), in Cuntara Ramasami Katturaikal (Essays by Cuntara

Ramasami), Madras, 1984, as a vague philosopher like himself in search of some spiritual truth
played, in fact, an active role against untouchability in Sri Lanka and was even assaulted and
arrested by the police when, in 1971, an attempt was made by untouchables to take water from the
temple well of Kannaki Amman on Ponkutu Island, but he has yet to be considered in that perspective.
Cf., Ravikumars interview with Va. I. Ca. Jayabalan in E ucci talit m
l racu, Chennai, 1999.
u
According to the same source, Ponnudurai, an all-rounder of some sophistication and considered
as an important writer among Sri Lankan Tamils, has yet to identify himself as a dalit.
58
K. Daniel, Pañcamar, 1972, 2nd edn, Thanjavur, 1983, rpt 1994. In order, and up to the eve of his
death in 1986, K&omacr;vinta
, Atimaikal (Slaves), K&amacr;
n al (Mirage), Pañcuk&omacr;nankal (Five Perspec-
n
tives), and Tann&imacr;r(Water), the last with an Introduction which emphasises the books ethnograph-
ical excellence, by the Japanese anthropologist Yasumasa Sekine.

43
Sri Lankan Tamil with an overabundance of dialect words in the narration and
descriptions. This work may be seen as marking the beginning of documentary
and ethnographic literature in Tamil dalit literary history. And it is there that the
limitations of K. Daniel lie: his stories and novels are essentially documentary
and they lack real characters and evocative power. He does not deviate from a
schematic formula in which characters embody his ideas and progress logically
according to the reasoning of the author who purposely leaves the appropriate
literary preoccupations to the Art for Arts sake school (Na~okku ilakkiyam). His
chronicles are, however, an honestly rendered account and are the, perhaps some-
what unnolished, vehicle of an ideology which still has its echoes today. Their
reissue in the 1990s came about as a result of the impetus given by a group of
writers and critics dedicated to the dalit cause, and in Cuddalore an organisation
called Kuralkaj (Voices) even created a prize for dalit literature in his name.
With K. Daniel we enter into mainstream Tamil literature and find, with regret,
perhaps less originality than is to be found on its fringes and among its precursors.
Organised I)alitse Documents for a History

The Power of Words
In Tamil, paficamar is now outdated; it is the term adi-dravida (not piirvatamilar,
i.e., original Tamilians, coined long ago) which today designates the Harijan in
official vocabulary. From 1990, however, the word Dalit has been used in more
and more significant ways; today it is breaking in everywhere and its expansion
reflects a concomitant transformation in those who employ it, whether to refer to
themselves or to others. The infiltration has been slow however. It seems that the
first usages came in the 1980s. In 1982, the Tamil literary magazine Pa!ikaf, pub-
lished in Bangalore, posed an entirely rhetorical question: is there a place for dalit
literature in Tamil? This was not, as was thought, an isolated occurrence. 59 Another
Bangalore publication, in 1983, was providing an answer. The bi-monthly Dalit
Voice,60 published in English, carried an insert for its Tamil version, Dalit Kural,
based in Madras. This same magazine reported the repercussions of the inaugur-
ation at Madurai of a Tamil Nadu Unit of the Dalit Panthers by the secretary of
the all-India movement, Ramdas Athavale, in the presence of Mrs Ambedkar. On
that day a huge procession frightened the shopkeepers, who closed their shops;
the orthodox Hindus of the RSS and the dominant castes, natar and tevar, have
not felt at ease ever since.
After much hesitation the term Dalit has become the standard one to designate
the core of the three castes: pallar (agricultural workers and small farmers),
paraiyar (originally players of the drum [parai] at funerals etc., and agricultural
workers) and cakkiliyar (leather workers associated with the butchering of animals,
59
Nirappirikai, No. 2, Special Issue of Dalit Literature, November 1994, p. 116; contrast with
Vity&amacr;cam, No.1, 1994, p. 14.
60
February, 1983. The Tamil version, Dalit Kural, appears from the
Dalit Voice, Vol. 2, No. 3, 1-15
same academy (Dalit Sahitya Akademi, Bangalore) although it is based in Madras.

44
as well as another two castes not strictly speaking untouchable,

the lowest of all);
vanniir (launderers and midwives) and ampattar (barbers and practitioners of
traditional medicine, bone-setters and mixers of herbal remedies) and, lastly, the
doubtful groups, communities socially assimilated into the dalits but more or
less repudiating the identification: totli (sewage-tank emptiers), vettiyr (specialists
in cremation) and sometimes elavar and cempatavar (fishing commtanities); at
the very bottom there are also the kujivatlpfr (launderers for other untouchables).
This list is neither exhaustive nor definitive, and the word Dalit does not yet
serve to bring together all those it applies to, but it makes constant progress and
succeeds in asserting itself as an identifying category.
Among negative reactions, we note the chauvinistic purism of the Young Dalit
Movement of Rajapalaiyam (near Madurai) which renamed itself, in contra-
distinction, as Tamilntu Paraiyar pravai grand Assembly of Paraiyar of Tamil
Nadu). In fact, their gesture was motivated by a provocative pride which had its
precedents. In 1930, the paraiyar Rettamalai Srinivasan, a member of the Legis-
lative Council of Madras, added his caste to the badge he wore at the Round Table
Conference in London and refused, as a self-described untouchable, to shake
hands with King George V. Recalling this anecdote, the Tamilaka Paraiyar Kural
(The Voice of Tamil Paraiyar) in 1993 invited its readers to add the title Paraiyar
to their names, as is the custom with higher castes.61
Caste pride is often expressed in a contrary manner. The vanniyar, a backward
caste f ercely hostile to the emancipation of the dalits, recently awarded themselves
the degree of nobility, qualifying as Agni kula ksatriya, Royal descendants of
Agni. Today, the Pallar prefer to be tev8ntira kula 1,8jfjar , Landed gentry of
the race of Indra, the god of cultivated land according to ancient Tamil literary
tradition. They (the Pallar) justify - by all possible quotations from Tamilclassical
literature and folk-songs a new historical perspective: that they are the true
-
agriculturists of Tamil Nadu, the heroes of numerous pallu poems which since
the eighteenth century extol these activities, equating them, as ulavar (agri-
culturists), with the non-Brahmin group of Tamilians most prominent throughout
history, the Vilala. Moreover, as the word pallar gained currency only after the
sixteenth century, it is considered to be a substitute for mallar, the warrior-
agriculturists of the ancient Sangam age. This convenient phonetic shift upgrades
the Pallar even more, putting them at par with their most violent opponents, the
tvar.62
61
This is a monthly publication edited by S. Samuvel Paraiyar from Madras; cf., Vol. 1, No. 1,
September 1993.
62
ntira kula V&emacr;l&amacr;lar (atippataic
For example, Kurusami Cittan, Tamil ilakkiyattil Pallar (mallar) T&emacr;v
&emacr;
ukal) (Pallar [mallar] Teventira kula velalar in Tamil literature [Basic Evidences]), Coimbatore,
nr
c&amacr;
1993. See also A. Tirunakalingam, Pallar inakkulu varal&amacr;
u (History of the Pallar Community),
r
unpublished paper presented at a seminar entitled Canankalum Varalarum (People and History),
Pondicherry Institute of Linguistics and Culture (hereafter PILC), 23-24 September 1999. The
author provides profuse literary and cultural references but sticks to a Marxist vision of caste and
class.

45
The cakkiliyar go further and give us a unique opportunity to illustrate the

recent developments of an etiological myth in the making. In 1994 they claimed
as their ancestors the sage Vasistha and his virtuous wife Arundhati (who became
a star in the constellation of the Great Bear); then, in 1998 they relegated Vasistha
to the Hindu pantheon in order to keep Arundhati by herself as the symbol of the
(Tamil Sangam) chaste woman, thus asserting their high Tamil origin and dist-
ancing themselves from their Kannada and Telugu ethnic past. While they have
already succeeded in imposing the usage of the word Aruntatiyar as a dignified
substitute for the infamous cakkiliyar denomination, they now also insist on being
called mitiyax mftaiyar and pakatai in the dialects of southern Tamil Nadu. The
first nomination, read as mil (great) plus atiyar (the foremost, the king,) links
them with Atiyaman, prince of Takatur, an historical character celebrated in Sangam
literature; the second term links them to his son Pokuttu Elini, which had to be
altered to Pakatai, another term for grandeur found also in the folk ballad Muttu-
pattan katai. 63 This grand artificial edifice comforts a proud and powerful con-
sciousness whose assimilation or equation with a dominant non-Brahmin group
is always consistent, supported as it is by a pseudo-erudite literature and based on
historical and mythological quotations after the style of Ayotti Das Pantitar.
Remaining bookish and being, in any case, constructed by the urban intellectuals
of the caste, it is in very sharp contrast to the traditional folk tales and songs of the
group which normally acknowledge a subordination to the immediately superior
. groups; in such stories, as in all traditional myths about the origins of the paraiyar,
we are always told why the paraiyar have become the losers and under what cir-
cumstances their karma deteriorated, an approach leading to acceptance rather

than rebellion.&dquo; Projection of higher lineages remains entirely cultural without
there being any question of rocking the boat when it comes to economic status
and the reservation policies established by successive governments. If the term
Dalit, which is not, as Harijan was in past times, bestowed on them as a political
euphemism but rather implies free choice and commitment, is made banal in
Tamil, being applied both tardily and carelessly, it is because it comes at an oppor-
tune moment to express a new dimension in the social and political conflict inherent
in local history.
63
u (History of Aruntatiyar), Madras, 1995, a booklet which
Elil Ilankovan, Aruntatiyar varal&amacr;
r
tripled in its size to become Aruntatiyar varal
u vum
r
&amacr; &amacr; vilakkamum (History of Aruntatiyar,
n
vi
Questions and Answers), Mumbai, 1998, as a question-and-answer catechism for the caste. Also,
Marku, Aruntatiyar Torrakkataikal (Origin Myths of Aruntatiyar), also presented at the PILC
seminar (n. 62 above) collected seven myths from the Virudhunagar area, all of which account for
the fall of the aruntatiyar from their status of Kampalattu Nayakar. A faint trace of a migration
lingers in these myths; other evidence suggests that they came from Andhra during the Nayaka
period (seventeenth century). Details of another group of aruntatiyar are found in Arul Dass et al.,
&amacr; &omacr;r a
Kotaimalai tariy&amacr;r
m imukam (Kotaimalai matariyar: An Introduction), Madurai, 1996. Yet
r
another aruntatiyar group from Coimbatore publishes the journal Dalit Urimai kural.
64
See Robert Deliège, Les Intouchables en Inde, Des castes dexclus, Paris, 1995, chap. 4. Les
mythes dorigine des intouchables, pp. 115-40.

46
The Density of Associated Network

Social relationships in India are invariably of a particular density, the importance
of which, at the level of daily life, may be surprising to outsiders. In order to em-
phasise the extent to which the dalit universe is criss-crossed by multiple networks
which give it muscle and make it more sensitive to fresh perceptions, we present,
as very brief examples seven different types which often interpenetrate one
another.
Local Private Associations ,
These function within a street or area, a ceri or alan (colony). Interchangeable

and numerous, these constitute the indispensable connective tissue in all political
culture and are potentially available to support any cause. They are usually in the
hands of young dalits, often those ineligible for the fan clubs of film stars. They
deal with problems of comfort and hygiene in the area, with water and electricity
and with education; they manage correspondence and various petitions, conduct
temple festivals and arrange film-showings and sports meetings. Their identity is
confirmed by their names, often featuring the name of Ambedkar, whether or not
associated with the epithet Dalit and the name of the locality.
Associations based on Caste

Flattering to the caste pride already mentioned, these associations depend, at the
local level, upon groups from the majority castes of the dalit world and betray
wider political affiliations (at the regional level), the greater part of their mem-
bership having no hesitation in entering into double allegiance to their own -
caste at the local level, and to the dominant one at the level of regional politics.
Whilst occupying themselves with general problems and with political publicity
(booklets and meetings), they are used in electoral manipulations and tend to be
rather lethargic once elections are over. The pallar, who refuse the stigma of un-
touchability, have a large number of such associations throughout Tamil Nadu,
notably around Madurai and Tirunelveli. It was their association at Coimbatore,
led by Dr Kurusamy Cittan and Dr Gnanasekharan, which published work vin-
dicating their identity as Teventira Kula Vojijar.66 Perhaps the most important
one of these associations, known throughout Tamil Nadu. is the Tyagi Emmanuel
Peravai, named after a leader, a retired soldier who fought prodigiously against
65
akattil talit Iyakkankal (Dalit Movements in Tamil Nadu), &Amacr;yvarankam,
See Unjai Rajan, Tami
l
September-October 1994, pp. 5-13. The author runs a small dalit magazine, Ma ucanka, which
n
appears irregularly.
66
This group is still very active, publishing a journal called Mallar malar, other tracts, and also
commissioning novels and other writings about their caste. To mention only a few: Kurusami
Cittan and G. Gnanasekaran, eds, Tami u (History of Tamil Culture), 2 vols,
ar panp&amacr;ttu varal&amacr;
l r
Coimbatore, 1996, 1999; Cu. Venkataraman, Pallu Ilakkiyankalil mallar marapukal (Mallar Trad-
itions in Pallu Literature), Coimbatore, 1998; A. Arivunampi. Kampar k&amacr;ttum mallar m&amacr;npu (Excel-
lence of Mallars shown by Kampan), Coimbatore, 1999; J. Gnanasekaran, Talit cinta ai viv&amacr;tam
n
(Dalit Thoughts and Debate), Coimbatore, 1999; Surya Kantan, Noyy&amacr;la
&emacr; (On the
ankarayinil
rr
banks of Noyyal), Coimbatore, 1998; Vinoda, Vacanta mullai, Coimbatore, 1998.

47
untouchability in the 1960s and was assassinated by a tevar. In contrast, the

caklciliyar, much less well orgat~ised, lack political influence. Although spread
throughout Tamil Nadu (Coimbatore, Salem, Tirunelveli, Kovilpatti), they mostly
have their origins in Andhra Pradesh; the Tamil dalits, far from encouraging their
integration, would like to send them back home.
Associations connected with Political Movement
These are riding a wave, proliferating and functioning as political pseudo-parties
without actually having any direct influenced in the corridors of power. Even though
they usually present themselves as pan-Indian movements, they are built on the
cult of a local personality who brings together the voices of his caste and represents
a crucial electoral force. They are essentially at the service of their leaders and
have no autonomous political programme, associating themselves with better or-

ganised parties as a convenient logistic for mass demonstrations. They are certainly
effective in the job market and in the trade unions. Seen as providers of employ-
ment, they are often in the hands of those dalits who, through the policy of reser-
vations, have been able to gain access to education, become officers and acquire
power. A good example is the /~ya manita urimai katci (Indian Party for Human
Rights) which, despite its name, has nothing to do with any association for human
rights. This is a paraiyar association, very strong in south Arcot and influential in
the Thanjavur region, led by Ilaiya Perumal,67 who was the president of the local
Congress party and the author of an official report on Types of Untouchability in
India and the Means of Eradicating Them (early 1970s). His report had no impact
but it served as a platform for his organisation after he left the Congress. Since
then he has rallied to any party whatsoever in the interests of opportunism; upon
their election as members of legislative assemblies (MLA) his candidates very
spontaneously attached themselves to the AIADMK, the party in power at that
time.
Christian Non-governmental Organisations (NGOs)

The caste problem has been present in the Church from the latters introduction
into India, that is from the time of St Thomas Christians up to the disputes over
the Malabar rites, and to the recent liberation theology and enculturation .61 Chris-
tian organisations, strongly structured and without internal democracy, are protean
and effective in the short run, directing their efforts towards consciousness-raising
on the subjects of education, hygiene, health and environment. Although their
policies, whose objectives are immediate, force them to overlook the longer term
67
His (presumably taped) oral life history has been published as a booklet entitled Cittirai neruppu.
L. Ilaiya Perum u (Summer Fire: Oral History Recorded by
l pativu ceyyuum v&amacr;y moli varal&amacr;
&amacr; r
L. Ilaiya Perumal), Neyveli, 1998.
68
The reference here is to the Italian Jesuit Robert de Nobili. Cf., Joseph Thekkedath, History of
Christianity in India, Vol 2: From the Middle of the Sixteenth to the End of the Seventeenth Century
1542-1700) Bangalore, 1982; E. R. Hambye, History of Christianity in India, Vol
(
, . 3: The Eighteenth
Century, Bangalore, 1997.

48
aspirations of the population, they do concentrate upon the problem of dalit

participation in the organisation of the church. For the fundamental paradox
remains that, even though the dalits represent the great majority of any Christian
congregation, they occupy no influential position. In a restrictive hierarchy domin-
ated by upper-caste Christians, they are th- children of a lesser God; this leads
to an ever-increasing temptation to turn the debate on liberation into more belliger-
ent action.6g These ~dG®s, moreover, are often suspect because they are financed
from abroad. They are accused of trying to convert dalits, accusations which
develop into violent actions against missionaries and churches. In spite of their
protests, the dalit Christians have so far been excluded from the reservations which
benefit the Scheduled Castes (in Tamil Nadu they are included in the list of Back-
ward Castes) and they are currently trying to get this Hindu-inspired discrimination
abolished. Christian associations are numerous, mobile and of varying structures.
Founded in 1984, in Madurai, IDEAS (Institute of Development Education, Action
and Studies, Camiika Cintanai Ceyal dyvu Maiyam), a Christian NGO devoted to
dalit studies, has published texts by Pama and Marku and continues to bring out
texts of this kind.70 Since 1989, the Dalit Christian Liberation Movement has
branched out from Madurai all over Tamil Nadu, led by the Jesuit Anthony Raj
who now runs a Doctor Ambedkar Cultural Academy focusing on a dalit Solid-
arity Centre. Tamil Nadu Theological College in Madurai runs a documentation
and research centre for dalit studies, is active in bringing out publications (12 so
far) and organises dalit festivals every year. Henry Thyagaraj of Madras, who
runs the journal Manita urimai Nluracu (The Dra~m of Human Rights), is actively
involved, through a signature campaign, in the submission to the United Nations

of a memorandum highlighting the plight of Tamil Nadu dalits as indigenous
people. For some time his association was the patron of the dalit journal Ktaflki,
edited by Sivakami.
Leftist Associations
Stimulated by the centenary year of Ambedkar in 1991, the dalits, and especially
those most emancipated by virtue of their education and work, are finding a partisan
discipline, a militant ethic and a debate on ideas in the inherited structures of the
long-term presence of the Communist Party of India (CPI). These are decentral-
ised in comparison with the bureaucracy of the CPI but maintain unitary pre-
occupations and the critical concern to propose, in a more or less explicitly Marxist
context, a wide-ranging programme combining class struggle, ethnicity and caste
consciousness. These never-very-weighty groups spread and attract the young,
69
A good introduction to this problem is available in Felix Wilfred, From the Dusty Soil: Contextual
Reinterpretation of Christianity, Madras, 1995.
70
Mokan Larbeer, ed., Talit vitutulaikk
a Araciyal (Politics for Dalit Liberation), Madurai, 1998;
n
&amacr;
Fr Isaac Kathirvelu, ed., Talit rvaiyil
&amacr; Aruluraikal (Sermons from a Dalit Perspective), Madurai,
p
1998; Anppukkaraci and Mokan Larbeer, eds, Talit penniyam (Dalit Feminism), Madurai, 1997;
Marku, Kiristtavattil nt&amacr;mai
&imacr; (Untouchability in Christianity), Madurai, 1994; and Pani. Paul
T
Mike, T&amacr;ntavam, Madurai, 1999.

49
largely through their flexibility at the local level, which is linked with an ideological
content to which only the Christians can offer an equally structured equivalent.
As it would be natural to expect, an activist variant has recently turned into a pol-
itical party (see below). In Tamil Nadu, both the communist movement in the
1950s and the Naxalite Movement (Marxist-Leninist) in the 1970s, worked for
the cause of the untouchables but were brutally suppressed, later splitting into
factions; their roles in recent local social history is yet to be properly evaluated.
A confusion of literary labelling must be cleared up. There exists a general
trend to take for granted that anything written on a dalit subject from a leftist
point of view can be claimed as dalit writing, but this is definitely not the case:
works such as those of D. Selvaraj, Chinnappa Bharati or Melannmai Ponnucami,
all being members of the Tamil Nadu Progressive Writers Association (Tamilniitu
MuLp5kku Eluttdlar Cafikam) (affiliated to Communist Party of India-Marxist
CPI-M), as well as writers who belong to the Kalai Ilakkiyap Perumanram (af-
filiated to the CPI), cannot be called dalit works and have not been considered in
this article.&dquo;
Dalit Organisations as Political Parties

Throughout the period 1995-97, in the northern districts of Tamil Nadu there was
an attempt to turn the attention of the dalits towards the concept and practice of
double electorate,2 that is, a separate electorate a concept and practice that
-
was earlier argued over by Ambedkar and Gandhi and became the subject of the
Poona Pact. A number of conferences were held in various places, but the attempt
failed to gather momentum and lost out in the fast-moving social and political
developments. Out of the severe clashes between tevars and dalits in the southern
districts of Tamil Nadu,3 there arose the political party Putiya Tamilakam ( New
Tamilakam) led by Dr Krishnasamy and dominated by pallars of the southern
districts. In 1999 the Vitutalaic Ciruttaikal, (Liberation Panthers Association),
dominated by paralyars, inspired by the Tamil separatist movements of Sri Lanka
and led by Tirumavalavan (a powerful orator and, like Dr Krishnasamy, a controv-
ersial figure) also decided to take an active role in electoral politics. The elements
which lie behind the forming of these two dalit parties are, first, the development
of dalit votes into a single vote bank, separate from the Dravidian and Congress
parties and second, an attempt to escape from the arms of the state which works
to suppress them by casting them as a violent threat to law and order. What then
does the future hold for these two Tamil dalit parties? Will they go the way of
other such parties in different parts of India (BSP in UP, factions of the Republican
party in Maharashtra), getting lost in the all-devouring electoral process?
71
D. Selvaraj, Malarum carukum (Flowers and Dried Leaves), Madras, 1966; Chinappa Bharati,
Cankam, Sivagangai, 1985, Hindi trans Dalit Sangh.
72
a Tanittuvam (Uniqueness of being Dalit), Coimbatore, 1996.
Ravikumar, ed., Talit E
r
n
73
Broken People: Caste Violence Against Indias Untouchables, Human Rights Watch, New York,
March 1999.

50
z
Cultural Movement
The Hindu world does not recognise the cultural identity of the dalits, and they
themselves are hardly conscious of possessing an identity even though anthro-
pological observation makes it obvious that they do. Thus we see the birth of
short-lived organisations such as the Talit paf;pttup p8ravai (Forum for Dalits
Culture), who try to bring together, by way of cultural programmes progressive
in inspiration, intellectuals, artists and writers capable of projecting a popular
image of dalit values and of putting across a message. Paradoxically, the Tamilaka
otukkappatta rrcakkc~l munnani (Front for the Oppressed Tamil 1eople) of 11~.
Polilan unites dalit activists and the fanatics of pure Tamil. He publishes a monthly
magazine, and drew attention to himself at the time of the demolition of the mosque
at Ayodhya in 1992 by threatening to destroy the headquarters of the Shankara-
charya of Kanchipuram. Booklets and ephemeral magazines accompany these
activities.
Deployment of the Media

From Theory to Theatre
The dalits, originally without an ideology or a voice of their own, have naturally
been accommodated, according to a multiplicity of contradictory recipes, by all
the literary groups who, whether with horror or with sympathy, see them becoming
more important on the social scene. In parallel, a so-called intellectual literature
has been created by authors who, though eager for a wider public than for specialist
research, are more qualified for abstract discussion than sensitive literary creativity.
These intellectual creatures, nourished on ill-assimilated readings of western
writings, make an odd masquerade of the dalits, a carnival of repressed bodies
and their desires (Bakhtin), of anarchists and rebels (Artaud and Burroughs), of
denouncers of the inner circles of power (Foucault) and the dictatorship of dom-
inant signs (Eco), who set out, as their non-linear writings show, to break up the
structure of language. A modest echo of these fantasies can be found in the the-
oretical texts of a dalit who teaches Tamil at the Tagore Arts College ofPondicherry.
Raj Gautaman aims for unidimensional historical analyses of how ethics and power
were used by higher castes as attested to in Tamil literature&dquo; by way of a rigid
structure of binary opposites. Such writings, which may be called English in Tamil
garb, when uncritically evaluated and enriched with factual errors and socio-
anthropological jargon by professional interpreters such as M.S.S. Pandian75 are
put into a sort of disguise which blows out of all proportion their original genuine,
if slender, content. To cater to a foreign readership with no knowledge ot the
Tamil language, these interpreters offer the Tamil reality tailor-made, in English
74
Talit Panp&amacr;tu, Pondicherry, 1993; Talit p&amacr;rvaiyil tamil panp&amacr;tu (cankam period) (Tamil Culture
from a Dalit Perspective [cankam period]), Madurai, 1994; Poy + Appatam -> Unmai (Lie +
Absurdity -> Truth), Coimbatore, 1995; Aram Atik&amacr;ram (Ethics and Power), Coimbatore, 1997.
75
M. S. S. Pandian, Stepping Outside History? New Dalit Writings from Tamil Nadu in Partha
Chatterjee, ed., Wages of Freedom: Fifty Years of the Indian Nation-State, Delhi, 1998, pp. 292-
309 ; idem, On a Dalit Womans Testimonio, Seminar, No. 471, November 1998, pp. 53-56.

51
versions both over-reaching and out of focus which, viewed from inside, conjure
up non-existent configurations.
The numerous Marxist groups?6 are more sober and adopt a neutral attitude.
Rare are those who merge that ideology either with reflection on the heritage of
Ambedkar and E.V. Ramasami Nayakkar, or with a concrete involvement in the
defence of human rights and a dialogue with other minorities, or with genuine
literary projects. This was the ambition of Nirappirikai (I~iffraction); when
it operated from Pondicherry. Now, from Thanjavur, under the editorship of
A. Marx, it has adopted the ideology of subaltern studies, while its former co-
editor IZavikumar&dquo; has launched Dalit in 1997, a quarterly issued from Neyveli
focusing on dalit literature and politics. The high-circulation magazines, more
interested in circulation statistics than in ideas and run by brahmins or dominant
castes, speedily understand the interests of the market and are indistinguishable
in their wish to offend no one. The Madras monthly Cirukataik katir (which seems
to have disappeared) published till 1996 a series of Kilani collum kataikal (Stories
from Dalit Colonies) devoted to the dalit world. Two more literary magazines, a
monthly, Kayzaiyd_li (Madras) and a tri-monthly, Klaccuvatu (Nagarkovil), in
the hands of conservative Brahmins, are keen to keep at an equal distance both
the (post-) modernist intellectuals who massacre the language and the vulgar
casteism of the dalits which erodes true values. Behind their discourses on art
and good literature lies an affirmation of solid, traditional prejudice. They have,
nevertheless, been the first to come forward to welcome and promote good dalits
always, provided that their experience be more universal than disturbing to their
small world; they appear to be more liberal than the caivappi!!aimiir,78 fierce anti-
Brahmins, hostile to Sanskrit and condemned by that fact, in spite of a total lack
of affinity, to join the crowd in projecting an image of themselves as favourable
to the dalits whom everyone is talking about; this is ultimately the most effective
method of preventing those very dalits from speaking out.
The oral thus remains the dalits most reliable vector, and festivals flourish, for
instance the Talit Kalai iravu (l~light of Dalit Arts) in Madurai, Tiruvannamalai
and Pondicherry during the spring of 1995 alone, on the initiative of the groups
already mentioned. Imitating numerous temple festivals and political speeches
and processions, these shows are folkloric: songs, dances and percussion music
(paraiyiiUam, tappiittam), theatrical and visual (painting and craft). They do have
cultural content but are also socio-political, providing occasions for discourse
and for the launching of pamphlets and books. Without being provocative, they
create and spread awareness9 and assert the genuine new phenomenon: the dalits
76
See the journal ,l published from Coimbatore.
Nika
77
Kank&amacr;nippi araciyal (Watchdog Politics), Coimbatore, 1995.
n
78
Also responsible for journals like Kavit
&amacr; cara
n and i n
Mu
r l in Madras, of which the latter is
defunct.
79
For example, on the pañcami lands near Senkalpattu, earlier conceded by the British to the
harijans, and since usurped by the higher castes. The dalit agitation (December 1994-February
1995). then violent, was reawakened by the issuing (as part of a festival) of a documentary book on
the subject by Marku, &omacr; (Struggle for Pancami Land), Madurai, 1995.
Pañcami nilap r
p

52
are on the scene and from henceforth exist in the Tamil landscape despite, and as
a challenge to, all repressive policies.

The expectations of some kind of dalit theatre naturally arises, but is not fulfilled
even though a few attempts have been made by the Pondicherry University School
of Drama and Performing Arts: PaliCitukal (Sacrificial Goats), written and staged
by K.A. Kunasekaran and performed in several places in 1991-92; Viirttai Mirukam
(Word Animal), written by Ravikumar based on the recorded testimony of
Padmini and staged in Pondicherry and Madurai in 1995; and Tannar (Water) by
A. Ramasamy, presented in Pondichery in 1995, in Madurai in 1997 and in
Tirunelveli in 1998.
The most popular and much dramatised confrontation of a genuine Dalit with
the orthodox Brahmanical great tradition remains the story of Nantanar, the
only paraiyaa (actually pulaiyan) of the 63 Saivite Nayanmar. The legend is
narrated in the thirteenth century Periya pura.1.lam and received a tremendous
new impetus in a drama with songs and music (NantanC7r carittirak krttallai) by
Gopalakrishna Bharati (1811-81);8 it was so successful that it remains popular

through stage adaptations, flimsy recordings and Camatic music recitals.
Gopalakrishna Bharati with, as background, the paraiyar working as tillers in
the fields of the brahmins, introduces two new characters who challenge Nantanar.
One is an old man from the cri, faithful to the customs and duties of the paraiyar,
who resists the missionary attempts of Nantanar to convert to orthodox Hinduism,
and the other is an old Brahmin, the immediate landlord of Nantanar who, outraged
by his espousal of orthodox Hinduism and his determination to go to Chidambaram,
challenges him. Shiva himself responds to this challenge with a miracle: he sends
his bhiita gana to perform Nantanars duties in the fields in the true tradition of
Tiruvilaiytal Purufiarn and 1allu. So much for the socio-theological conflict which
remains as dramatic and burning as ever.
Coming back to modem times, Indra Parthasarathy, mentioned above in relation
to the Kilvenmani massacre, wrote a short play Nantan katai (published in 1978
in a collection of his plays).g2 Although relying heavily on Gopalakrishna Bharati,
he introduces an unimaginative love story between Nantan and Abhirami, a dev-
dasi, thus enabling the conflict between the proselytising role of Nantan and the
paraiyar whom he is trying to convert to take a new turn, both theatrical and cul-
tural, with the staging of a contest between Bharatanatyam as danced by Abhirami
and the paraiyattarrz performed by the paraiyars, with Bharatanatyam as the winner.
Shivas miracle is then played as a plot hatched by the Brahmins, the rnutaliyar
80
According to M. S. Ramaswamy Aiyar, Gopalakrishna Bharati: Author of Nantam Charitram,
Madras, 1932, with two editions in 1861-62 and 1862-63 (according to U. Ve. Saminataiyer, Cank&imacr;ta
mummanikal [Three Jewels of Music], Madras, 1936, rpt 1987).
81
&amacr;r (silent film), 1929; Nantanar (film), 1933, 1935, 1942; a satire against untouchability
n
Nanta
enacted as Kintanar by comedian N. S. Krishnan in the film Nalla Tampi, 1949.
82
Intira Partacarati, Aurankacip, Madras, 1976, 1993.

53
and utaiyiir to lure Nantan to Chidambaram where the pyre is waiting for him and
Abhirami. After the double autodaf the mutaliyr invites the pa-raiyafv gathered
there to come forward and become Brahmins through the same initiation; the
porcaiyars panic and run away, ending the play. Once again it is non-I3alit, and
even Brahmin, writers who have made dalit subjects into literature. In three per-
formances, directed by R. Rasu, the play took on nuances from the audience re-
action beyond the authors intentions and scope:
o Sponsored in Thanjavur in 1986 by the Sangeet Natak Akademi, it merely emphasised technical
aspects of staging, that is, adaptation of traditional arts to modern theatre, with accent on
neither Bharatanatyam nor par.aiytittam;
o
Staged in Vadalur in 1994 during a conference of Pattd,li Makkal Katci (a van niyar political
party), it provoked a very strong protest against the Brahman conspiracy, seen as a manipulation
of a backward caste by a higher one. The key there was obviously caste conflict;
At Neyveli on 3 March 1996 during the Night of Dalit Arts, the contest between the two
dances had the audience reacting overwhelmingly in favour of the paraiyattam, with dalit
consciousness raised against all higher caste conspiracies and moved to pity by Nantanars
vulnerability and innocence. The manner in which the dalits made this play their own bears
witness to a strong link with their roots and rhythms.R
Who was not a Dalit by 1995?

A very thick issue of lVirappirikcai (November 1994); the special edition of Tdn_a-
manicutcar for 31 December 1994; a new quarterly, I~ota~iki for January-March
1995; in April a special 40-page section in the annual literary edition of 1995 of
the Tamil India Today:84 Tamil dalit literature is officially consecrated. Its pre-
sentation by Raj Gautaman reveals all the compromises: there is a suppressed
dalit inside every non-dalit (except of course for Brahmins) and it is to that dalit
that the literature is addressed. The literature, should not aim at realism, which is
essentially capitalist and already appropriated by the higher castes, rather it is
post-modem and unites all those who are for the abolishment of the caste system.
Jeyakantan, the very popular novelist and short story writer, hailed and adulated,
had already understood this: We speak today of dalit literature: everything I have
written has been dalit literature! I am absolutely unconcerned with differences of
caste. I have gone beyond all that.85 A little later, an elderly, orthodox Marxist
83A. Ramasami, Putiya Arankam&amacr;? Marru Arankam&amacr;? (New Theatre or Alternative Theatre?),
Nirappirikai, No. 1, January 1994, pp. 18-22; idem, Etir Arankattiliruntu Talit Aranki
ku kaliy&amacr;t-
r —
tam&amacr;ka p&omacr;rrattamaka oru pirati (From Anti-theatre to Dalit Theatre A text as a carnival and
—
struggle), Ütakam, No. 2, April-May 1994, pp. 40-44; idem, Navina Natakamum Talit N atakamum
(Modern Theatre and Dalit Theatre), in Talit Kalia Ilakkiyam Araciyal (Dalit Art, Literature and
Politics), Neyveli, 1996, pp. 70-83; idem, Nantan kataiyum Nanum (Nantans Story and I), in
il a
l
Tami n N&amacr;takam (Modern Theatre in Tamil), Chennai. 1996, pp. 223--30. See also K. A.
&imacr;
Nav
Kunasekaran, Talit Arankiyal (Concepts of Dalit Theatre), Chennai, 1995.
84
We thank Mrs Vasanti, the then Brahmin Associate Editor of this issue, for her help.
85
Extract from a lecture published in Cent&umacr;ram, March-May 1994, p. 17.

54
critic made the great Tamil poet Subrahmanya Bharati (1882-1921), into the
founding father of dalit literature.~6 Tolstoys Resurrection would then be the
ultimate dalit novel, and the first dalit novel would be Bernardin de Saint-Pierres
La chaumire indienne, presented and republished by officially recognised dalits
in a new translation .87 It is about time we turn back to a more specific assessment.
Towards a Literary Assessment

Poetry
The first poet to emerge out of a hotch-potch of proclamations and empty rages iss
not dalit but pataiyacci-van_niyar Palamalai, a teacher from Viluppurarn was born
in 1943. He managed to infuse a genuinely rural and oral tone into his poems
which are midway between narrative and folk ballad. His four collections&dquo; between
1989 and 1998 have, in poetic form, something of that thrill of folklore that Ki.
Rajanarayanan brought to the short story and the novel, but they evince a growing
tendency to reduce poetry to mere reporting of facts and news. Further, he iden-
tifies, ideologically, more and more with his caste and its manifestations.
Exploiting the current trend, several collections use the word dalit to market
themselves. Samples of self-proclaimed dalit poetry can be picked up from
Kavignar Tamilanpan P. Muthusamys ®tukkap~attor urimaik kural which, under
the pretext of voicing the rights of the oppressed as the title has it, puts together
heterogeneous translations from all over the world and the authors poems; or
from Raja Murku Pandiyans Cila talit kavatafkc~lum in fact only five out of
-
thirty are dalit introduced, not surprisingly, by Mira, an elderly writer of doubt-
-
fully engaged, sentimental Marxist poetry as well as love poems.&dquo; However, a

notable flow of first collections by poets in their early thirties clearly shows that
passions and imagery are very much present though their poetry remains somehow
elementary, along the lines of Erpu, (Acceptance), by Nagai Madhavan (first
published in Cirruli and republished in Putiya Pdrvai, February 1998):
Tear the flesh
Leak the blood
If it is sweet, tell us .
Well accept you as higher caste
86
Ti. Ka. Sivasankaran, Ilakku, August-December 1994, p. 49.
87
Iravanan, Oru Kuticayiliruntu...! (From a Hut), Madurai, 1994, does not mention the version
translated from French by Ira. Tecikap Pillai, Intiyak kuticai (An Indian Hut), Madras, 1968, but
was obviously inspired by it.
88
a
n Ca katai (Story of the People), Kumbakonam, 1989; Krotonkal&omacr;tu koñca n&emacr;ram (A
nkali
While with Crotons), Tirumutukunram, 1991; Ivarkal v&amacr;lntatu (Lives These People Lived), Madras,
1994; nr
I
u mE um (Now and Forever), Madras, 1998. The text which heads this article provides
r
n
a good example of the tone of these ballads.
89
P. Muthusamy. Otukkappatt&omacr;r urimak kural (Voice of the Rights of the Oppressed), Salem,
1995; Raja Murku Pandiyan, Cila Talit kavitaikalum (A Few Dalit Poems), Sivagangai, 1994.

55
Two poets from southern Tamil Nadu make the maximum use of orality and their
own dialects in their verse: N.T. Rajkumar, a kanivin (more an untouchable tribe
than a caste, and having the traditional occupations of sorcery, medicine, perform-
ing arts and martial arts) writes poetry full of anger and romanticism, enriched by
the imagery and cultural details he brings to it from his background; and Nata.
Sivakumar, a washerman from Kanyakumari district who shares the same charac-
teristics while being more restrained and sharp in his works. Two other collections
originating from the northern districts (Virutthacalam area) are by A. Vincent
Raj, a more subdued and even dull poet (~alipkka~, introduced by Sundara Rama-
sami) and Arivalakan with poems full of anger merged with folklore he also --
writes songs -
but sometimes reduced to punch lines or slogans. Two dalit

activists, Talaiyari, a Dalit Panther, and Jeeva also write a poetry of anger with
elements of imagery but which is yet to be considered as really fully fledged.&dquo;
Ka. Cuppaiya is likewise a genuine dalit, but his poems are less striking than
his songs which have been given their full value in the musical interpretation of
K.A. Kunasekaran. It is, in fact, with the support of folk music and the parai
drum that the dalits most effectively express their anger and their anguish. The
repertoire of Kunasekaran,9~ acting head of the Sri Sankaradas Swamigal School
of Performing Arts at the University of Pondichery, at present commercially
oriented towards dalit cultural programmes, was initially that of a communist en-
gaged in class struggle, but he identifies himself as a dalit artist with his third
audio cassette ~l~lahuccarikata-Talit~atalkal which includes a ballad by Ravikumar
on the murder of four dalits at Kurincakulam (Cankarankovil district) by naidus
in 1992 -
a good example of the link between the popular oral tradition and
militant poetry. This is a field where dalits could attempt a really original break-
through, linked to theatre, thus giving to a deficient contemporary Tamil poetry
the popular contact it has lacked since Bharati and the songs of Kannadasan.
Short Stories and Novels

We now introduce nine authors (along with one in a footnote); five are dalits, two
are not, and another two could not be labelled. This is a fairly comprehensive
sample among overabundant and dispersed sources. Yet it remains easy to get
bogged down because the authors never cease to riffle, with the frozen fingers of
90 N. T. Rajkumar, Te i (Abuse), Nagarkovil, 1997; idem, Otakku (Tangle), Tiruvannamalai,

r
1999: N. Sivakumar, Uvar man (Fullers Earth), Nagarkovil, 1997; A. Vincent Raj, n ip&omacr;kka
l
Va
(Traveller), Virutachalam, 1996: Arivalakan, Karuppu mo l
i (Black Language), Virutachalam,
&emacr; ematu mukam? (Where are Our Faces?), Pondicherry, 1996; D. Jeeva, Ümacci
1996; Talaiyari, Enk
(Deaf-Mute Woman), Tiruvallur. 1998.
91
Born in 1955 in the east of Ramnad, singer, actor and theoretician: see also Kunasekaran,
isvarankal (Notes of Fire). Palaiyankottai, 4th edn, 1993; idem, Nakarc&amacr;r n&amacr;ttuppu
n
Ak app&amacr;talkal
r
(Urban Folk Songs), Sivagangai, 1987; idem, N&amacr;ttuppura a
a
nat
n nkalum p&amacr;talkalum (Folk Dances
and Songs). Madras, 1992, among others.

56
passive observers, through an eternal dossier of conventional sorrows. This refers

to the first three authors, the first of which is Vili. Pa. Itaya Ventan,92 a state govern-
ment official, from a family of sewage workers, who is involved in a number of
social and political movements in his hometown of Viluppuram. Apimani, also a
dalit, employed in the port at Tuticorin, is most lively and colourful on the op-
pression of the dalits by the castes immediately above them (Backward and
Most Backward);93 but in spite of having recourse to dialects, his language does
not reach as high as his outrage. His second collection, however, reveals a sense
of style and form. Unjai Rajan, a dalit activist and editor of the dalit j®urnal Manu-
caitka, has also published a short story collection which describes the plight of
the dalits with a note of protest. 94
Devi Bharati, from the region of Coimbatore, is not a dalit but has made himself
noticed through the subject which gave its name to a single collection of short
storles.95
A young Brahmin woman who has been reduced to prostitution one day receives
as a client a young man from the family which, for generations, has cleaned the
latrines in her own household. He recognises her and possesses her, brutally and
at length, recalling anew with each assault the sufferings of his ancestors under
the haughty contempt of the high castes. She has only one response: I am a
prostitute.
Instead of dramatic, intimate dialogues, however, the author gives us two degrees
of voyeurism, interposing first of all a third-person narrator and, in addition, a
running commentary on how the reading is to be used. Finding it convenient to
emphasise the sensational side of his plot, he thereby reduces it to a puppet-play
worked by a thick-headed showman, a failure to rise to possibility. Although his
later works deal with quite different topics, his sensationalism remains.96 Here
again the general trend of producing literature with fashionable dalit themes
continues with anything on dalit subjects marketing itself under the dalit label, to
the confusion of genuinely inmrestcd readers.97 Such weeds flourish because there
9
Vili~ Pa. Itaya Ventan, Nantanar teru (Nantanar Street), Vilupurarn, 1991; idenx, Vatai patum
valvu (Tortured Life), Vilupurarn, 1994; idem, Tay man (Motherland), Coimbatore, 1996; idem,
CinPkita~e (Friend), Chennai, 1999.
93
~nimani, Nokkatu (Pain), Madras, 1993; the title story describes the shame of an old woman-
sweeper, ill and ignominiously thrown out by a status-conscious shrew, hardly superior to her,
from a latrine which illness has forced her to use in an emergency whilst working in a backward-
caste enclave. His second collection, Punui muni (Godly Spirit of the Palm Tree), was published
in Madras, 1998.
94
Unjai Rajan, Ekiru, Tulit cirukataikul (Ekiru, Dalit Short Stories), Madras, 1996.
95
Devi Bharati, Pali (Sacrifice/ Sacrificial Victim), Erode, 1993.
~
Devi Bharati, Kanvilitta marunal (The Day After Awakening), Sivagiri, 1994; idem, Mun_ravatu
uila elumpum vilutukatarra lamaramum (The Third Rib and the Banyan Tree without Aerial
Roots), Sivagiri, 1996.
97
A good example of this fashion is Nanaparatiyin- Talit Ci_rukatalkal (Dalit Short Stories of
Nanaparati), Madras, 1996, a cheap collection of noisy portrayals of dalit struggle and protest,
published with the blessings of half a dozen figures popular in politics and literature.

57
is still the same incapacity to draw anything really original from observations
which cannot be detached from their purely documentary interest and are stuck in
dry, flat ideological polemics.
This severe verdict does not spare Pablo Arivukkuyil, a young agent of the Life
Insurance Corporation, from a village in Tirucci district, even though his second
short novel, Poti (Bundle of Linen on the Washermans I7onkey in Iutiya prvai,
December 1994), was awarded first prize by a literary jury in 1994 and his first,
Kirmam nakaram (Village Town, in I~anaiydli, November 1993), telling the
tribulations of a young dalit who has fled his village to find work in Pondicherry,
expresses with some subtlety a young boys view of urban life while the boys
memory is still completely rural. The few short stories published along with these
two novellas as his first volume Kilukki do not come up to expectations.&dquo;
The exploration of the world through the eyes of an adolescent has been, since
Dickens, a stereotype which has been overemployed as much by the progressivists
as by the realists. This is again the plot of two novels by Perumal Murukan, an
author from the Coimbatore region. The first, Eruveyil describes, in language
which borrows freely from the Kongunadu dialect, a sorrowful process of urban-
isation : a young peasant of the Gounder family leaves the countryside with his
dependents for a semi-urban suburb where he suffers while watching his family
disintegrate as a result of the migration. The second, Nilal murram is a realistic
picture of the fight of a small group of adolescent vendors in a cinema, who camp
there as well, to survive from day-to-day in poverty and amidst easy temptations.
In the same vein he has also published a short story collection
The use of dialect to increase realism also characterises Co. Taruman, a writer
who comes, like Pumani, from the Karical region of Kovilpatti and whose short
story Nacukkam was selected in 1992-93 for the Katha selection of best Indian
short fiction of that year. He has produced two short-story collections (Iram,
Wetness, Ckava!1.am, Forest of Sorrow) and a novel (Trvai, Sediment),
and it was only after that that he reportedly hinted at a dalit identity. 100
The novels of Arivalakan are without special merit, and this inspector for the
Health Services was not bom a dalit. His first novel, Kalicatai almost literally,
smells unbearably. It concerns the life of a municipal sewage worker, described
in terms of sewers and gutters, latrines and stenches, with an insistence on the
routine of the sordid and the abject which violates the feelings of readers by forc-
ing them to perceive physically that this is the filthy, day-to-day lot of the prot-
agonist. He soliloquises in rough and straightforward Tamil which rings true.
This makes it all the more regrettable that the narration does not maintain this
98
Pablo Arivukkuyil, Kilukki, Coimbatore, 1995.
99
Perumal Murukan, &Emacr;
uveyil (Mounting Heat), Madras, 1991; idem, Ni
r al mu
l am (Courtyard
rr
of Shadows), Madras, 1993; idem, Tiruccenk&omacr;tu, Chennai, 1994.
100
Co. Taruman, Nacukkam (Crushing), Madras, 1993; idem, &Imacr;ram (Wetness), Madras, 1994;
am (Forest of Sorrow), Madras, 1999; idem, T&umacr;rvai (Sediment), Sivagangai, 1996.
idem, C&omacr;kava
n
101
icatai (Refuse), Madras, 1992.
Arivalakan, Ka
l

58
tone but tends to sink into artificiality because of the contrast in the device. The
sympathy the effort that has gone into this writing might have inspired is cut off
and the impact of this murky irruption into our libraries is muffled.
A young dalit, bom in 1967 and living in Neyveli, Sudhakar Ghathak, had
already published, in several small journals, seven short stories in different styles
adapted to those journals, when his short story Varaivu appeared in the second
issue of Dalit in July 1997. This particular story portrays the condition of a young
dalit woman who, finding herself abandoned in the urban world, resigns herself
to posing in the nude for artists. The style of minute, impressionistic reflection
may betray the influences of the quality Tamil writers Mauni and Vannadasan,
but we nevertheless see here for the first time a fusion of literary sensibility and
dalit identity. Varaivu has been selected and translated into English as The Sketch
for the Katha annual collection of the best short fiction in Indian languages of
1997-98.2 .
Women Speaking
Womens writing in India has a dalit division, of some weight. Thanks to patronage,
Marathi offers, apart from narratives recorded for social research, 103 the biographies
of school-teachers who become principals at the end of their careers. In this cat-
egory, in Tamil, there is the autobiography of Annai Virammal who was born into
a dalit family in 1924.104 After struggling through a career in All India Radio and
an unhappy marriage, she founded, and still runs, a network of social work organis-
ations based on the Gandhian ideas. The autobiography is in the third person and
is very pedantic in style.
Sivakami is the mouthpiece of dalit aspirations for men as well as women -
-
in the media and in academic circles. A dalit from the arid lands of Tiruchi who
became a member of the IAS (Indian Administrative Service), she owes her pos-
ition to her career as much as to her works, which consist of novels and collections
of short stories and, increasingly, of articles in privately circulated magazines as
well as those with wide circulations, including Knta~aki and Putiya Ktnki, edited
by her. Her success lies in her life and in the clear, readable style of her fiction
which follows closely everyday reality: the precarious life of the dalits (Palaiyana
Kalitalum); and the oppression of women by omnipresent male dictators, fathers,
husbands and heads of families (Ana~tayi).5 In her more recent works, two short
story collections (Nilum totarum; Kataici ~a~ntar), and two novels (Pa ka ku;
Kur-ukkuvettu) she obscures what is happening by psychologising it with a patina
102
The Sketch, Katha Prize Stories, Vol. 8, New Delhi, 1998, pp. 159-68.
103
Sumitra Bhave, Pan on Fire: Eight Dalit Women tell their Stories, trans. Gauri Deshpande, New
Delhi, 1998. This is part of a militant feminist programme which nevertheless claims for itself a
literary ear.
104
kkaik katai (This is the Story of My Life), Tiruchi, 1996.
Annai Virammal, Itu en V&amacr;
l
105
Sivakami, n aiya Kalitalum (The Old Fades Away), Madras, 1991; idem, &Amacr;
l
Pa
a ant&amacr;yi
n
(Anantayi), Madras, 1994.

59
of urban sophistic~tion.o~, In her writing she passes smoothly from spoken dialogue
to a more sustained hut natural descriptive language; to the triumph of standard
Tamil she adds the reassuring vision of the eternal dalit woman, strongly rooted
in her land and resistant to change. It is, thus, a sure-fire and unsurprising way to
bring the dalit world into the best company and to liven up university seminars.
Two other authors have a less brilliant game plan: secularised nuns, they both
emphasise the limitations to the Christian solution to the dalit condition what -
is offered in place of education and employment is submission to the conventional

and prevalent system of castes and of tenacious prejudice against the bad poor.
Strong personalities are broken by this or they leave the orders. Faustina, who is
the sister of the dalit academic writer and theoretician Raj Gautaman, was bom in
1958 near Srivillipputtur. She was educated exclusively by nuns through boarding
school and college up to B.Sc and B.Ed. and, by a natural progression, became an
assistant teacher, and then a junior teacher in a convent. In 1985, she took the veil
and then spent six years in a convent before giving up her vows to return to teach-
ing. Under the name of Pama, she has written two autobiographical novels which
proudly vindicate the name of dalit, Karukku (1992)107 in which she settles her
account with the church, even though her six years of convent life take up only
six out of a hundred pages, and Cafikati which goes further back into her child-
hood.108 Karukku was hailed as the first Tamil dalit autobiography and scored a
succs destime. Written entirely in standard spoken Tamil mixed with the dialect
of Madurai region, the first-person story frequently sacrifices the ingenuity of
memory to the adult voice of an educated and angry dalit who substitutes criticism
and rebellion for the stuff of real experience. Although the dangers of vindication
and of propaganda are not avoided, the documentary interest is evident and the
justifiable reproaches uttered in opposition to the hypocrisy of a corrupted church
give a polemical and documentary dimension to the text which, nevertheless,
does not have the style of her recent short stories. 109
A more brilliant figure, Mary Stella, a dalit, was born in 1947 and went to
Rome to gain a bachelors degree in theology; she taught for 10 years in Madras
and then entered an order which sent her back to Rome as an envoy. After being
promoted from the rank of Novice Mistress to that of Assistant Superior General,
she left and later, with her Hindu husband, founded her own organisation for
social development on behalf of dalits near Tambaram (Chengai district). Under
the name of Vitivelli, she published a testimony, Kalakkal.11o This first attempt in
106
Sivakami, Nalum totarum (It Goes on Day by Day), Madras, 1993; idem, Kataici m&amacr;ntar (The
Last), Madras, 1997; idem, Pa ka &amacr; ku (This is an acronym of her other novels), Madras, 1997;
idem, Kurukku vettu (Cross-section), Madras, 1999.
107
Karukku (Palmyra leaves, with serrated edges on both sides), English trans. Lakshmi Holmström,
Chennai, 2000.
108
Pama (Faustina), Cankati (Happening), Madurai, 1994.
109
n (The Joker), Madurai, 1996.
Pama (Faustina), Kicumpukk&amacr;ra
110
Vitivelli (Mary Stella), Kalakkal (The Muddle), Madurai, 1994.

60
her mother-tongue is direct and courageous. It accuses the church especially of

alienating those who sincerely want to serve the oppressed by giving them the
comforts and pleasures of the middle class. She denounces the artificial side of
monastic life, dealing freely with hetero- and homosexual exploitation. These
two equally negative eye-witness accounts, whether literary or not, cast light upon
the controversial place of the church in the political and cultural life of Tamil
dalits.
Two more women witnesses pose the question from another point of view. The
first testimony is known only through the French version by Josiane and Jean-
Luc Racine, now available in English translation. It is the autobiography of Vir-
amma, III a pariah woman for whom even a diffused revolt is absent, perhaps
because rebellion has tended to implode into daily life for too long. If she has an
ideology, she is a Hindu, and even her son has no enthusiasm for the dalit cause.
Does this then mean that such enthusiasm is essentially urban, that is to say, an
intellectual utopia without autonomous rural roots? It is rare in Tamil literature
with a dalit viewpoint to come across the elements which constitute the theme of
Viramma: here is real sensitivity to objects and beings, a wanton sensuality along
with folklore, healers formulae and the songs and legends of professional story-
tellers. All this provides a framework for a particular life full of fears and of
spirits to be avoided. In brief, we find a consistency and density, the absence of
which makes previous literary efforts look feeble in comparison. Worse still, the
laughter of Viramma makes nonsense of the revolutionary and militant pathos
deployed up till now with little result. The second testimony adds meaning at just
this point despite its fragility and discreet distribution. This is the transcription of
I 12
a cassette tape, the story of Pad mini, a woman of the t5tti ~~y~kk~zr caste (sweep-
ers, wage-workers of Andhra origin) who was molested and suffered multiple
rape at the Annamalainagar police station, (near the University and next to the
temple of Chidambaram), in front of her husband who was suspected of having
stolen an electric fan and for that was beaten and tortured to death by the police.
111
Viramma, Josiane and Jean-Luc Racine, Une vie paria, Le rire des asservis, Paris, 1995, trans,
Will Hobson, Viramma: Life of an Untouchable, London, 1997. Two reviews of this book François
—
Gros, BEFEO, 1996, pp. 385-89 and M. Kannan, Ni appirikai, No. 8, May 1996, pp. 65-78, ex-
r —
press reservations about the soothing vision of Viramma as the smiling, wise paria, which they
believe is a fusion of the Tamil story-telling tradition with French literary anthropology as flowing
from Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, La Chaumière indiene (The Indian Thatched Cottage), Paris,
1790, to Jean Malaurie, Les Derniers Rois de Thulé (The Last Kings of Thule), Paris, 1955, 5th
rev. and enlarged edn, Paris, 1989. Malauries book has been translated into English several times
under the title The Last Kings of Thule, London, 1956, to idem, New York, 1982. To quote from an
English translation is not quite relevant for a book which has been translated into more than 20
languages, and continuously enlarged, from about 500 pages to 854 pages (with 190 drawings, 65
photographs, 25 maps, and triple index).
112
Federation of Human Rights pamphlet, Ann&amacr;malainakar n iyi v&amacr;kkum
Patmi lam (Testimony of
&umacr;
Padmini of Annamalainakar), Pondicherry, 1992. The judgement in Padminis case was delivered
at Cuddalore District and Sessions Court on 4 September 1997; of the 11 policemen accused, five
were released and the other six were sentenced to three or 10 years imprisonment and fined. Their
appeal is still pending in Chennai High Court.

61
It is almost unbearable to read and put more literary stories, with their quest for a
moving effect, in the shade. The Tamil dalits, however, did not mobilise and neither
was there any reaction from the policewomen involved nor, incidentally, from
Sivagami, the recognised messenger of dalit women. Such an incident would

never fit into the repertoire of Virammas songs; and any young dalit from her
own village who had unlikely as that would be succeeded in entering the
- -
police force could well have been one of Padminis torturers. In the face of such
an impenetrable situation, human rights associations and over-urbanised dalit
intellectuals recover their effectiveness, and the literary mumblings in favour of

greater social justice may at least serve to highlight the silences and timid euphem-
isms of others.
At Stake: Dalit Literature
We end this overview of Tamil dalit literary production with two examples which
stand at opposite extremes from one another and which ideally illustrate what is,
for us, the ultimate question. The first, because it deliberately holds dalit writing
above literature, and questions the very possibility of a dalit literature. With the
second, by contrast, it is a laborious aesthetic vision of literature which undermines
the essence of dalit identity. To turn an experience into fiction successfully and to
integrate into that fiction a hard and burning ideological message without the
imagination losing its wings to the force of conviction: this is the challenge faced
by all engaged literature. It has not been met as far as the Tamil dalits are concerned,
but our two examples demonstrate that it is indeed the major challenge.
There are three factors that challenge the very idea of dalit literature. The first
is the ideological, anthropological or political, trap which keeps literature out of
most dalit writing. We may also seem to have been on the brink, several times, of
political or anthropological commentary in this article. Because it is, in fact, the
marginal and non-dalit writers who have given us the best of that literature, while
the mass of actual dalit writing, in terms of authors or subjects, has only gratified
us with such occasional rays of hope as Sudhakar Ghatak.
The second factor is exemplified by Laxman Gaikwad, author of a dalit auto-

biography, which won an award in 1988 and was translated into English in the
same year and which is not without its merits. Gaikwad introduces himself in the
Preface thus: These are the reflections of a non-Matric social worker. Let there
be a sociological evaluation rather than a literary one of this work. This is my
humble expectations If this request does not detract from the intrinsic qualities
of that autobiographical novel, it does challenge the very legitimacy of the present
article by refusing, reasonably or not, to figure in a literary framework. It is certainly
literature, but the inadequate term subaltern lurks as a value judgement which
weighs heavily on the fate of the work as literature.
113
Gaikwad, Uchalya, p. ix.

62
The third factor is represented by our first example, a novel presented in the
name of a cause and with didacticism and militant zeal which purposely decon-
structs plot and makes an attempt at anti-literature into a process of counter-
literature. Marku, a priest, very much committed to action on behalf of the dalits,
is also a writer. His fourth novel, Yttirai, deals with a confrontation between the
dalit Christians and the reddiyar minority who control the church at Piccur. 114 The
story comes to a head with a proposal for a march of dalits against the church.
The novel then stops abruptly and the author offers six possible outcomes in a
sort of postscript:
(1) The march reaches the village and there is a bloody confrontation. Disgusted and troubled,
the two parties stop fighting and enter the church together, thereby inaugurating an era of
equality and fraternity.
(2) The dalits circumvent the ambush prepared by the reddiyar and victoriously enter the church:
the march towards liberation has begun.
(3) Realising that confrontation leads nowhere, the dalits give up the march and build their
own church.
(4) At the edge of the village the front line of dalits
are massacred and the rest flee, pursued by
the reddiyar. Will the dalits ever join together for a fresh fight?
(5) The bishop decides to lead the dalit procession. At the sight of him the reddiyar willy-nilly
join the procession: the whole crowd goes back together into the church which claims them
all equally.
(6) The reddiyar seek the help of the police who attack the dalits, killing and imprisoning
them. The dalits go on with their march from the police station to the hospital and to the
court. &dquo;I
The author thus invites his readers to choose between three ideological options:
(1) Dalits must be patient and opposition will disappear over time: this is the
position of the bishopric. (2) Discrimination will never end for it is of another
order, and religion and the caste system should never be linked: this is the position
of upper-caste Christians. (3) Victims of discrimination must fight to free the
church from the caste system and from untouchability: this is the dalit position.
From the readers point of view, the process used here is less original than didactic,
but the aim is to force people to think; literature, if it still exists, becomes anti-
literature a simple tool in the service of a weighty, well thought out ideological
-
commitment, leaving almost no room for aesthetic exploration.

Our second example is exactly the reverse of the first. The author, Imaiyam, is
a dalit born in 1966 into a family of farm workers in a small village in south
Arcot. He works in a school run by the Adi Dravidar Welfare Department of the
Tamil Nadu government. His brother was elected as a Member of Parliament
from Chidambaram, a reserved constituency for dalits. His literary ambitions,
perhaps stronger than his political convictions, have been well served by his
publisher (cre-A). His first novel is called (K®ve~-aa Kalutaikafl [ &dquo;The I~ules ] mules
carry the washermans bundles of laundry but are also royal mounts). Painstakingly
114
Marku, Y&amacr;ttirai (The March), Madurai, 1993.
115
Ibid., pp. 258-64.

63
written and carefully edited, it is now included in the digitalisation project of the
University of Chicago and Columbia University, the first Tamil novel to be made
available via the Internet, at least at that address. The English translation has been
completed and awaits publication, while his second novel is being published.&dquo;6
His first novel has won him enthusiastic appreciation in Brahmin literary circles
otherwise not very favourable to dalits but here enchanted to have found one they
can raise above the crowd in the name of both literature and humanism (it received
the 1995 AGNI award given, as we mentioned at the beginning of this article, to
Pumani in 1994), while the dalits accused him of betraying his paraiyar caste by
depicting it, for a change, as inhuman and oppressive. &dquo; The popular weekly,
Ananda Vikatall (31 October 1999 ) called it the best dalit novel and the Tamil
India Today (3 November 1999) said it was one of the best books to make an
impact in this decade, the first of which judgements may not please the author
and his publisher, whereas the second probably will. In fact, neither author nor
publisher ever once use the word dalit. Such an omission cannot be mere chance
and, indeed, is perpetuated in the second novel and in its afterword by Sivaraman
in a panegyric on how realism becomes art, life literature, otc., conveniently for-
getting earlier works which could better have served the theory, for example those
of G. Nagarajan (reissued in 1983 by the same publisher and in 1997 by Sundara
Ramasami, Imaiyam most enthusiastic critic). This then is a case of art for arts
sake and for the sake of the happy few, far above the vanity and the hopes of en-
gaged literature. This minor, local, Arundhati Roy-like operation calls for closer
scrutiny because if it is well-founded then a climax is being reached. But what a
sad disappointment if it is not?
K5viru Kalutaikafl is the realistic chronicle of a family of pa_raiyavannan_
launderers who wash the clothes of other untouchables, receiving grain and other
food in return. But, in fact, the family is exploited by mean and insensitive people
who refuse to give them their due payment and who molest them to the point of
raping their daughter. The dramatic mainspring is the tragic absurdity of the
survival of such an outdated economy. The hunger, anguish and powerlessness,
the systematic exploitation of the most deprived, are repeated at all levels of society.
These accumulated oppressions are expressed in long soliloquies, lamentations,
and in questioning to which there are never answers; and, finally in the mothers
litanies of despair and the supplications of her daughter after she has been raped,
all are hurled at a world where they strike no echo. This method is interesting at
first, but when it turns into an idiomatic repertoire it ends up anaesthetising the
reader who lets the words run on whilst the tortured faces of the mother and
daughter heavily imprint themselves. It is all very laboured and borrows from the
techniques of the popular Tamil cinema (for example that of Bharatiraja and Mani-
ratnam), even including the songs obligatory in the cinematic medium.
116
Imaiyam, &K
v
u
r
omacr;
emacr; utaikal (The Mules), Madras, 1994; idem, &Amacr;
l
Ka umukam (Arumukam),
r
Madras, 1999.
117
For appreciation from Brahmins, see Sundara Ramasami, K&amacr;laccuvatu, No. 9, December 1994;
for the dalit perspective see Raj Gautaman, Ütakam, No, 4, September 1995.

64
The first novels weakest point, the ever-present influence of cheap cinema, is
even more to the fore in the second one where it arises from the plot itself which
concerns the experience of a young boy, Arumukam, among prostitutes, pimps,
rickshaw-pullers and homosexuals in urban slums. Arumukam runs away from

his mother when he finds out about her affair vith a Dutchman and, at the end,
comes across her by chance and by the light of a match, working as a prostitute,
and he himself her client. She then commits suicide, leaving him to his lamen-
tations. This reflects exactly the populist realism of the Indian cinema: brother
finds sister, (or father/daughter, husband/wife) as a prostitute. Along with the
scenario and chapter breaks, the dialogue too creates the feeling of a written account
of a film without there being any real understanding of the movement and visual
style of cinema. All this leads to a sort of voyeurism suffused with derision and
moralism. It is striking to see the urban elite, who shun popular cinema, appre-
ciating this projection as literature. Ihis theme and the style exemplify the way in
which the deracinated Tamil urban middle class surrenders itself before the visual
media. Disappointing as art, the novel also falls down in its realism, unlike the
first novel which gets away with it because the time frame and geography are left
vague and because of its language, a measured dose of standard Tamil with the
dialect of south Arcot. In Arumukam, the precise locations filled with real place
names Pondicherry, Auroville, Cekkumetu
-
clash with contradictory and

-
anachronistic time markers, not to speak of the inauthenticity of the language of

various characters. We are constrained to go into this detail by the implied realism
of an actual place which develops leaks due to discrepancies in time-markers and
idioms. Objectively speaking, this novel is over-rated; more descriptive than
denunciatory, more populist than realistic, the novel fails to turn life into art.
Successful, such a metamorphosis would have given this article its crowning point.
Aborted, it is nothing but a counter-example to the novel of Marku. Marku has
rejected literary aesthetics in favour of a more urgent need, the dalit cause, which,
for him, is the most important struggle of our time. With Imaiyam, the quest for a
style dilutes dalit reality and through his stylistic devices dalit sensitivity is numbed.
To see in his novel a reconciliation between dalit reality and literature, in which
the first is erased by the triumph of the second, is not just an error of taste but is
also a blindness, voluntary or not here Pierre Bourdieus approach to the literary
-
milieu would help&dquo; into which plunges the author, his publisher and the
-
118
Cf., Venkat Swaminathan, Indian Literature, section entitled Facets of Dalit Life in Recent
Tamil Writings, September-October 1999, pp. 15-30. The specificity of the dalit phenomenon has
been submerged in the general caste struggle throughout Indian history, and in the broader current
of south Indian literature from Shankara and the Periya Pur&amacr;nam to Putumaipittan, which covers
half the article. The critic appraises both dalit and non-dalit writers for their literary merits rather
than for the criteria of the dalit ideologues who are supposed to decide wrongly on a purely pol-
itical basis. All his arguments blindly ignore the crucial point raised by Pierre Bourdieu on the
transformation of the relations between the intellectual sphere and the sphere of power: Lorsquun
nouveau groupe littéraire ou artistique simpose dans le champ, tout lespace des positions et
lespace des possibles correspondants, donc toute la problématique, sen trouvent transformés;
avec son accés à lexistence, cest à dire à la différence, cest lunivers des positions possibles qui

65
readership who have walled themselves up in fiction, seen as an end in itself, and
remain immune to the most ineluctable changes. Once more, it is the long tradition
of middle-class Tamil writers, usually Brahmins, looking down as passive observers
rather than as militants, which prevails.
In patronising Imaiyam in the name of pure literature, the traditionalist elite
obscures the very immediate and shocking density of history behind the conven-
tionally accepted universality of genuine experience and the intrinsic value of
art. Such tautological essentialism, painstaking in the afterword of Sivaraman,
sterilises all efforts to create new norms or new myths, stifles every scream of de-
fiance and, in brief, puts the dalits back in the ranks.
Tamil dalit literature indeed remains at stake. When are dalit aspirations going
to find their identity or explore a genuine subjectivity? As long as it remains
clouded by representations such as those of M.S.S. Pandian and Imaiyam, and of
Virammas interpreters, the real may go unrecognised. Tamil dalits in quest of a
literature may be seen in terms of the Meidosem the imaginary beings created by
Henri Michaux, who share with the dalits both the horrifying fragility of floating
ectoplasms inscribed in the barbed wire polygon of a dead-end Present and their
extraordinary obstinacy, Yes, they will go far, bound to their weakness, therefore
strong in a way and even almost invincible.... For what could show them more
clearly the traps attached to established literature and to alternative literature (not
that there is any real counter-literature) than this text which vanished after it was
published, evaporating as if in startled modesty:
Hes trusting you, paper like gossamer, wall of silk, a peeling off of others. He cries, Get me
out of here. Get me out of here, he cries incessantly. But what one hears is, vaguely, lowers
flowers or perhaps love. But hes only crying, Get me out of here, get me out of here.
Shaky wall which inscribes without listening, which listens without guessing, which guesses
without believing, which betrays him who implores saying, A little person would like a little
freedom. I9
se trouve modifié, les positions jusque là dominantes pouvant, par exemple, étre renvoyées au
statut de produit déclassé ou classique. Cf. Pierre Bourdieu, Les règles de lart. Genèse et structure
du champ littéraire, Paris, 1992, p. 326; English trans. Susan Emanuel, The Rules of Art: Genesis
and Structure of the Literary Field, Stanford, 1995, p. 234: When a new literary or artistic group
imposes itself on the field, the whole space of positions and the space of corresponding possibilities.
hence the whole problematic, find themselves transformed because of it: with its accession to
existence, that is, to difference, the universe of possible options finds itself modified, with formerly
dominant productions, for example, being downgraded to the status of an outmoded or classical
product.
119
Meidosems, text facing lithograph #4 in the original edition with 13 lithographs, Le Point du
Jour, 1948. This passage was not reprinted in La vie dans les plis, Gallimard, 1949, rev edn 1972,
but was retained in the English version by Elizabeth R. Jackson (Meidosems), California, 1992.
pp. 28, 44, 46. The translation here is revised by the authors.

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South Asia Research

Tamil Dalits in Search of a Literature

The online version of this article can be found at:

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Kannan M. and Fran&ccedil;ois Gros

However many gather to pull it, ParaiyarI

Dalits in and out of Tamil Nadu

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implies consciousness of participating in a movement that concerns India as a

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What an amount of knowledge! Knowledge...where can one buy that...? replies

variations, a veritable cacophony: tatalittu, the dalits on themselves; atalittu,

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In Dravidian languages, writers in Kannada seem to be the most prolific, with

point for the dalit movement in Andhra Pradesh.

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and a great deal of receptivity to dialect. Any development in the situation in

The Lure of the Dravidian Movement

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Indus seals.2 The myth will, nevertheless, function as long as Sanskritisation

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InQuest of Ancestors: Ayotti Das Kaviraja Pantitar,

The dalit is without influence and is defined by his nakedness, standing as he

Pfaffenberger, Caste in Tamil Culture: The Religious Foundations of Sudra Domination in

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ADKP, a paiicamar, was born in 1845 in a village in Coimbatore district and

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Downloaded from sar.sagepub.com at UNIVERSITY OF HYDERABAD on June 28, 2010

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welfare programmes, the republican viewpoint continues to see Buddhism as an

A 1)etonator with a Long Fuse: The Massacre of I~ilvenrnani, 1968

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perspective it provides on the preoccupations of Tamil writers at the time when

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When the dawn came in smoke,

They said: these were children.

Of all that burned that night

of Ranganathan Parthasarathi, again a Brahmin, who had been writing for 15

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existence of a countryside without recourse or hope: dry land, haunted by poverty

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mythic figure of rebellion and catharsis in their imagined aspirations towards

him as for most of us, tomorrow is another day.

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she is wearing sandals. She

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A little-known writer, Ekbert Sachchidanandan born in Madurai and for 20

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pallar, paraiyar, ampatfar (barbers) and nafavar (toddy-tappers) make up the

[Universal Reality of Talaiyacinkam]), in Cuntara Ramasami Katturaikal (Essays by Cuntara

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Organised I)alitse Documents for a History

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as well as another two castes not strictly speaking untouchable,

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The cakkiliyar go further and give us a unique opportunity to illustrate the

cumstances their karma deteriorated, an approach leading to acceptance rather

Kannan M. and François Gros