The journey of life unfolds and reveals many a memorable incident and experience which stand out any time one tries to recall any of them. Memories of childhood are more incisively etched and are easily brought back in a flash back.. One such experience of early fifties of last Century relates to my childhood spent at Allahabad when, at the age of eight or nine, I was on my way back from school, I felt almost giddy in the scorching heat of early October Sun after rainy season was over. My head and feet which especially absorbed the sun rays prompted me to stop somewhere for rest awhile.
Unexpectedly, as if literally out of the blue, I spotted the sweepress, fondly called ‘Jamadarni Mai’ by us having inherited the Sanskar of addressing, with respect, the elderly ones in the society. Before I could accost her, she endearingly called out ‘Bachchi’ my nick name and asked me to come in to have a little rest in the shade of her thatched hut and so-called house. Having realized that I needed some instant respite, she while I was trying to make myself at ease in the shade, promptly brought out a wooden ‘patta’ ( or ‘Peedha’ as it was called in Allahabad language ) for me to sit. But for a moment she hesitated a little as her anxious looks revealed before she again lovingly prompted to me to sit.
Having ingrained centuries of discrimination in her blood against Dalits ( or Shudras as per the Hindu religious tradition ) and being an untouchable i.e. the lowliest of the lowly, she could not muster courage to overcome the social stigma. But ‘Nature’s over-powering impact of the sunlight and heat swept away all barriers in a momentary flash of emotional outburst and she insistently spoke her mind, “Bachwa baithja ‘Peedha Par. Hum tohar amma jaisal hai – Baitha – Baithja. Mat Sharma’.(Son, come and sit on this wood –piece.I am just like your mother, come, sit; don't feel shy). Not only did I sit down instantly but I also accepted a glass of cool water in a clean metal tumbler offered by her. Thus all barriers created by a ritualistic Hindu mind set were broken down in an instant.
In an instant, I could recall even as a child, the forms of discrimination practised by my mother against her. Water was thrown from a distance by my mother to enable Jamadarin Mai to clean up our dry lavatory and the drains. Whenever an occasion like Makar Sankaranti, Suryagrahana or Chandragrahana (Hindu Festivals like solar and lunar eclipse) demanded, she was given ‘daan’ (charity) in the shape of foodgrains, dry vegetables and clothes etc. dropped in the bag or her arms from a distance. Even her monthly wages in coins were dropped on her hands. A Hindu’s mindset made an untouchable literally so and if such a person came across one’s way was shunned or avoided by the passersby.
But apart from the much needed rest under the midday sun, which forced me to sit on the Patta what probably worked in my subconscious mind and finally clicked when I accepted a glass of water from her hands was the fine example already set by my eldest brother, Vishnu Chandra. While my father ( who, in his youth, had reached Bardoli near Dandi in Gujarat to join Mahatma Gandhi’s Salt Satyagraha movement and was prevented, finally from doing so on receiving a false telegram sent by a relation ) was a Gandhian intellectually, my eldest brother, Vishnu had translated into action Gandhiji’s clarion call to give up untouchability. Much against our mother’s wishes, outburst and warnings, Vishnu who had taken a pledge in this regard after attending immersion rites of Mahatma Gandhi's ashes at Sangam at Allahabad in February, 1948, sat with Jamadarin’s son on Oct2, Mahatma’s birthday and shared food with him seated on Patta on the ground in the verandah where our mother was forced to serve food on Pattals ( leaf – plates ) to them through youngsters like us.
Jamadarin had her share of Pattal in her arms for she respected the religious sentiment of my mother without any qualms or ill will. Social harmony and cohesion demanded such acquiescence through the ages. Of course, at that age, I was neither expected nor required by my brother to join him in this occasional ritual of breaking the barrier of untouchability. People of Mohalla (locality) however, watched with curiosity and a little animosity too at my brother’s open defiance of social norm of practising untouchability but nobody could sway his well thought out action.
This unforgettable incident of instant collapse of untouchability barrier,in later years symbolized for me the bursting of a dam. In fact, I had written, a short story with title ‘Tootata Baandh’ in Hindi on this emotional encounter with Jamadarin, which strengthened my belief and mental make-up against all forms of discrimination. As children we had inculcated in our minds, the social-cum-religious norm of conduct in paying obeisance to all holy places, scriptures, saints belonging to various religions and respect for elderly persons of all castes, creeds and classes in society. We have cherished and nurtured these social norms and secular values with millions of like-minded persons.