Reframing the Narrative of Illiteracy

With thanks to Dr Manjiri Nimbkar and Mr Kishore Darak for first bringing this text to my notice and their comments on the discrepancies between the original text and its adaptation for the Balbharati text book.

Introduction

Illustration: Datta Ahiwale

Throughout the years, the Maharashtra State Bureau of Textbook Production and Research — popularly known as Balbharati – has made efforts to present a range of social and personal diversity in its books. In its 1994 edition of the Marathi textbook for standard six, it included a chapter from Taral Antaral, the autobiography of Shankarrao Kharat (1921-2001), one of the earliest and most distinguished of Dalit writers and academics in Maharashtra. A law graduate, Kharat was a close associate of Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar, and a convert to Buddhism. These facts about the author’s eminence are omitted.

Legend

Grey highlighted areas have been deleted from the original text
Yellow highlighted areas my direct commentary

This chapter is told from the standpoint of Shankar, who at this time was a school going child, as yet unable to read or write.

It is very instructive to look closely at the way the Balbharati editors have presented this chapter.  In order to look at this text and the changes in detail I began by paraphrasing the original but then shifted to presenting a direct translation.

Part I: The Letter/ The Illiterate

From the title itself the Balbharati editor shifts the focus of the narrative.

In the original text the title is “Patra”—“The Letter.” Here it is “Adani”. Older Marathi-English dictionaries translate adani as ‘crude, inexpert, clumsy,’ but today it is commonly used in the sense ‘ignorant, uneducated, illiterate.

The introductory note closes with a summary of the theme of the story: “a heart-wrenching account of the sufferings of an illiterate man.”

When the story begins it is nightfall in the Kharat home. Unexpectedly Genubuva Taral comes to the door. He takes a letter out of the pocket of his half-shirt, and hands to Rama Mahar, Shankar’s father, telling him that this letter has come for him. Rama is dumbfounded. As one of the village Mahars, he has often delivered letters to others, but he has never received a letter himself. Sharing a pipe, Rama and Genubuva speculate on who the letter must be from, and what news it contains. They are further confused by the fact that it seems to have only a couple of lines. They agree that Rama will have to go tomorrow to have somebody read the letter to him. The only possibilities are the village clerk and the schoolmaster. Then they realize that the clerk is out of town, so Rama will have to go to the schoolmaster.

The next morning Rama sets off for the schoolmaster’s house.

Note that in the Balbharati version the words “Brahman “and Mahar are consistently left out

Shankar tags along with his father, whom he calls Anna. When they arrive at the house, they see the yard freshly plastered with cow dung, and decorated with rangoli. Rama calls out, “Is Master at home?”  A voice from inside asks, “Who is there?”

“It’s me, Rama Mahar.”

Hearing Rama’s voice, the schoolmaster’s wife hurries out

The rangoli incident is completely left out— the child’s inadvertently stepping on the rangoli, and the master’s wife vehemently and coarsely attacking him verbally.

Immediately she looks at the boy’s feet. “You brat, look where you’re going. You’ve walked on the rangoli!”  Startled by the Brahman woman’s attack, the boy jumps backwards, as if he had been bitten by a scorpion. The woman yells again, “Damn you! You’re walking like you’re blind!”

Rama tries to pacify the woman, “He’s just a kid.” But she persists, “He’s old enough to eat, isn’t he?”

Without giving Rama a chance to explain why he has come, she calls out to her husband,

[FROM HERE ON, THE TEXT IS A DIRECT TRANSLATION…]

“Aaho, what are you doing inside? The Mahar has turned up right here at the door. It’s the rainy season. Get him to split some wood!  I don’t have any firewood to do the cooking!”

Then she turns to Rama and asks him to cut a few pieces of wood, since she is completely out, and besides, it’s the rainy season.

Rama falls silent. He doesn’t know what to do. He has to have Master read out the letter. Nobody else can do it. That’s why he has come.

And now the master’s wife is after him to split wood.

Then the master comes out.

“What is it, Rama? What brings you here so early in the morning?”

“Yes, I have some work with you.”

Before he could get in another word, the master’s wife burst out, “The Mahar has turned up at our doorstep! Have him split some wood! He’s come just at the right time!”

“Okay, okay, Rama isn’t going to refuse to split a few pieces of wood!’ Anna nodded in assent.

Then the master immediately asked him, “What is it you want, Rama?”

“Nothing much,” he said, taking the letter out of the pocket of his half-shirt and extending his hand to give it to the schoolmaster. “I’ve gotten this letter, and I want you to read it out to me.”

Before Rama could put the letter in his hand, the master immediately reminded Rama of the job he wanted him to do, “Aare, Rama! Our cooking is completely held up because we are out of firewood! Cut a few sticks of wood!”

Anna agreed, “Did I say no?”  Then he said straight out, “Give me an axe, I’ll cut a few pieces of wood for you.”  There was no other go. He had to get that letter read.

As soon as Rama mentioned the axe, the master went inside the house and called out to his wife, “Aaga, where is that axe of ours?  I’ll have Rama split enough wood for today.” At once her reply came back, “Aaho, what are you saying – just enough for today? Have that Mahar (him) split enough wood to last us at least a week! We’ve got him just in time! And it’s the rainy season!”

Anna overheard what the master’s wife had said. Completely fed up, he muttered to himself, “I’m not your old man’s Mahar. servant. You caught me just at the right time!”

BB accurately reports that Rama hears what the woman has said, and that he is completely fed up. But the words he then mutters to himself have been just slightly changed, and their sharpness dulled. The full import of what he says is almost impossible to capture in English. His words are, “mi tujya ‘ba’ cya gharca mahar navha ka !”  A rough translation would be, “ I’m not your father’s family Mahar.” But there are a couple of sharp points packed in that short sentence. To begin with, Rama addresses the woman (only in his mind), in the familiar, rather than in the respectful. Then he increases the insult by bringing in a reference to her father. This is verbal abuse, and the BB editor recognized it as such, and softened it to, “mi tujya gharca nokar navhe ka” (‘I’m not your family servant.’) There is no reference either to ‘your father’ or ‘Mahar.’

The following substantial paragraph describing Rama’s state of mind has been deleted from the BB text.

Anna had every reason to be fed up. But there was nothing he could do. Although he had never had a letter to be read before, he had now and then split wood for the schoolmaster. Besides, if the schoolmaster had asked him to split wood, Rama had never refused. Now today he wanted something. He wanted to have his letter read. There was no question that he would happily split the wood. But he was angry about what the schoolmaster’s wife had said. That’s why he was grumbling under his breath. Still, there was no way out. He wanted to have the letter read. He himself had gone to the schoolmaster. He had to split the wood the master’s wife needed to cook their meal. What a mess it would be if the master’s wife couldn’t cook their meal because there was no firewood in the house! Especially when the Mahar who could split it had come to their door. . .

We have two eyes. But the master because he is educated, has four.

The editor has retained the narrator’s comments on how the master’s being literate puts him in a position of power.

Some time or other, Rama would again have to go to the master’s doorstep and ask for help to read a letter. Besides he was the local schoolmaster. It all fit together.

The master went to the door and called his wife, “Aaga, I’ll have him split the wood, but where is our axe? Tell me!” To that came his wife’s reply, “It’s right there, on that shelf in the wall of the cupboard!” Hearing this…

The master came out after some time carrying a heavy axe. He dropped it on the ground, and said to Rama,

“Rama, hurry up and split enough wood  for four days!” At that moment Anna handed him the letter. “Master, at least read the letter to me first!”

The master glanced at the letter in his hand. Then he said to my father,

“Rama, I’ll go take my bath and be right back. The water will get cold. Then I’ll read your letter, bara ka!”

Anna replied at once, “Well, show me the wood. What do you want split?”

The master pointed at the wood standing in a corner in front of them.

“Aare, that’s it – split that wood over there in the corner.”

I thought to myself, “Now when will our cooking get done? And when will we eat?  And when will I go to school?”

The master jabbered something to himself, like a voice on a phonograph record, then turning to Anna, said, “Rama, split all the wood in that corner!”

“But, Master, I’ll have to sweat like crazy to split all that wood!”

“Then sweat, for today. What does it matter? Split it, split it today itself!”

There was nothing Anna could do. He said to the master,

“I’ll split your wood. But first, read my letter!”

With a strange look on his face, the master said,

“I already told you, as soon as I finish my bath I’ll read your letter. The wood will be split by that time.”  Then he put the letter on the wall adjoining the pillar of the veranda. As he went inside, the master said again,

“As soon as the wood is split, I’ll read your letter, Rama. Hurry up and split the wood!”

In this passage, the master shows Rama a staggering amount of wood he has to split. Then tossing the letter on the veranda parapet, he goes for his bath, saying that he will come and read the letter when the wood is split – a complete reversal of what he had promised moments before. The author comments that the master says these words with a strange look on his face, a clear indication that the man is completely aware of what he is doing.

To get his letter read, Anna – my pa— had to split all that wood. At least today he had to     do it for the schoolmaster. In return for that he was going to have his letter read. There was nothing special about that.

This detailed  description  given below  of  Rama’s splitting of the wood  is omitted:  the way he takes off his turban and shirt, tuck up his dhoti, the way he stands poised over the log, raising the axe over his head, the way his half-starved but still powerful body responds to the exertion bringing down blow after blow on the log, the way his whole body is drenched with sweat.

Anna took off his turban .and put it aside. He took off his shirt and tucked up his dhoti. He picked up the axe. He stood in front of the pile of wood. He rested the axe on the wood. He spits on his palm to moisten it. He rubbed his palms together. He gripped the handle of the axe tightly. Holding his body in position he raised the axe and began bringing it down over and over on the wood in front of him. Split logs, chips and shavings began to fall away. Anna kept pushing the split wood over to one side.

When Anna raised his arms to bring down the axe, the half-starved muscles in his pinched belly stood out sharply.  His deep breaths made his rib cage and belly rise and fall as the axe hit the wood. The sweat from his brow streamed down to his chest, drenching his body. From time to time he used his arm to wipe away the stream on his face.

The remaining wood continued to fall under the axe. The piles of split logs and shavings grew. Then Anna stopped. He put the axe aside. He pulled down his dhoti. With the end of his dhoti he wiped his sweaty face. He wiped the sweat from his body. He put on his half-shirt. He put on his turban. He went and sat on the step of the veranda. I also came and sat with him. Then Anna called inside,

“Master, aaho, Master!” Then the master came out of the house. He asked at once,

“Well, Rama, have you finished?”

“Just look at that pile of wood!”

The master looked at the pile and applauded Anna for his work.,

“Vaa, vaa, you’ve done a good job! Now there’s enough firewood for four days.

When Rama finally finishes splitting the wood, he calls the master, who applauds his work. But the BB text omits what the master says next: “This wood will be enough for four days. The next time you come, split enough for eight days !”

The next time you come, split enough wood to last us for eight days!”

“Sure, don’t worry about that,” Anna said, “Now at least read that letter.”  Then the master took the letter lying next to the veranda pillar. He glanced at it and then said in astonishment,

“Why, this is only half a letter! What happened…?”

Anna was taken aback. Then Master read the letter carefully and asked Anna,

“Aare, Rama, did you have a sister in Mumbai ?”

“Yes, I did! My cousin sister Dhondabai! She was like my own sister!”

“Aare, she died last Tuesday, ten days ago!”

Anna was shaken with grief !

“Aare, deva, you mean my Dhondibai is no more…?”

At last, the master reads the letter and informs Rama that his cousin sister in Mumbai died ten days ago.  The text leaves out, however, Rama’s request to the master to read out the letter word for word, and the fact that after doing so, he carelessly tosses the letter at Rama.

Then oddly enough, the BB text adds a line not in the original: “She kept remembering you.”

Stunned at the news, Anna again begged him, “Master, properly read the whole letter aloud!”

At that the master held the letter in front of him, and rapidly read,

“Rama Tatya Mahar, Humble greetings

Your sister Dhondabai passed away on Tuesday.

May you understand.”

After the master read the letter aloud, he tossed it at Anna.

Anna was speechless. With great difficulty, with head bent, he went down the stairs of the master’s house, and left the yard. As he got out on the road, he wiped his tears….

He walked ahead silently.

I walked silently behind him.

BB ends the story with Rama sorrowfully leaving the master’s house.

But Kharat’s story does not end here. In the original version Rama goes home, where his wife asks what was in the letter, and why it had taken him so long. The penultimate line is her bitter exclamation that if he had to split so much wood to get a letter read, how much he would have to cut for his cremation when the master dropped dead!

When we got home my mother asked him at once, “So, who was the letter from?”

“Aga, my sister Dhondabai – she’s dead!” Hearing this, my mother let out a cry of regret. Then after waiting a while, she asked,

“But it took so long to read the letter?”

“Aga, in return I had to split the master’s wood!”

Then my mother burst out angrily, “For that you had to split all that wood. Then tomorrow when the master drops dead how much wood will you have to split. .?”

She couldn’t stand it when we were treated like animals.

My mother hated this kind of thing!

The narrator has the last word: a triumphant appreciation of his mother’s hatred of the way the way they were treated.

Part II: In Conclusion: a Few Reflections

On one level this is a story of the Brahman schoolmaster’s duplicity, lack of empathy, and meanness in extracting the maximum of labor from Rama Mahar, a man who asks him to read aloud a two-line letter. On a deeper level, the story is a celebration of Rama Mahar, the author’s father – his decency, strength, beauty, and fineness of feeling… Rama is not servile; yet he is fully aware of the realities of the situation, and his limited options. He recognizes injustice, but accepts the inevitable.

To understand the nuances of this narrative, the reader has to understand the social background. At the time of this story, (the early part of the twentieth century), very few Untouchables – along with most of the rural poor – were enrolled in schools in Maharashtra. Illiteracy was the norm in this section of the population. But the forced servitude described here was the particularly the lot of the Mahars.

The injustice of what the schoolmaster does is the focus of the story. I have already observed earlier in this paper that BB has changed the title of this paper from “Patra” to “Adani” – that is, from “The Letter” to “Ignorant/Illiterate,” thus changing the whole meaning of the story. Thus what the BB story has done is turn the narrative on its head. In the original story, caste is the chief factor driving the interactions. In the BB story, the chief factor is illiteracy.

Kishore Darak observes that BB has a consistent policy to keep:” a thorough and convenient silence on caste”. As noted above, the word Mahar is not used in the BB text.[i]

So there it is. The story of caste exploitation has been turned upside down. The master’s caste status (and the literacy skill conferred by his caste) put him in a position of power that enables him to extract labor from the illiterate Rama. But in the exercises following the story, students are asked to write on the theme, “Illiteracy is a blot on society.”  There is no recognition that Rama and his caste fellows had been denied access to schooling.

One would like to know what goes on in the mind of the editor dealing with a story like this. Is he/she following explicit policy, or is there some tacit understanding that filters out all consideration of caste? Whatever may be the answers to these questions, the outcome is the same: a version that obfuscates the social reality the original text so vibrantly describes.

[i] Darak, K. (2012). “Prescribed Marginalization”. Seminar 638. October 2012, p. 67.