Longitude

India is an assault on the senses.

From the putrid aromas wafting from rivers of human effluence and fields of smoldering garbage to the cacophony of car horns, shrill screams and construction machinery to the serenely beautiful landscapes juxtaposed against crumbling, half-built infrastructure, there is seemingly enough to confound and delight one’s soul for eternity in India.

The greatest assault to the senses, however, would have to be on common sense. Rather, on a Western understanding of common sense. One of the truths we hold to be self-evident is that we are all equal…at least the theory is noble, while in practice we still have great strides to make towards this equality. By comparison then, India has yet to take any significant steps towards equality.

Sure, caste based discrimination has been constitutionally outlawed for years now. Yet, the act of higher castes practicing “Untouchability” towards the lower castes still persists despite its illegality. Caste based discrimination is deeply ingrained in all institutions and all aspects of Indian life, with particular holding strength in rural areas. It supersedes education, wealth and even religion. The first inquiry two people make upon meeting is of caste so they can determine how to interact, or not.

An oversimplification of the caste system sees most of humanity fit into a certain hierarchical level within a superimposed image of god. The higher castes represent god’s head, and the lower castes god’s feet. Then there are the Dalit, or former Untouchables, who do not fall into this schematic, nor are they even considered to fall within the shadow of god. They are the lowest of the low, below the feet of god, below the rest of the castes, and as such unworthy of all interaction, emotional or physical.

Pin drop silence is very hard to come by in India, Ravi told me one night. That was one of the things I longed for the most during my trip. After an average day in India, all I wanted was a few silent moments to collect my thoughts, alas that was not possible! One particular experience most grating to the senses had Ravi, his family and me returning from our survey of Gummallapadu Village by car. We were heading to the metropolis of Vijaywara and only had a few minutes left to travel, when all of the sudden the three lanes of inbound traffic, squeezed into one actual lane, burst over the dividing line and consumed the outbound lane as well, expanding to 9, sometimes 12, vehicles across all trying to head in the same direction. Oh, and the horns. One for every vehicle. One for every impatient driver.

On the other side of the epicenter were a dozen lanes of traffic heading towards us, with essentially no one moving anywhere but wider across the road into the ditches. Did we have a herd of goats or a meandering family of water buffalos in the road to thank for this traffic jam? Not at all. There was a rally for the son of a prominent politician, who was also a much adored film star. He was making his political debut, likely to take over the party and much of Indian politics on the sound and promising platform of looking good on the silver screen!

Maybe the guy was a good actor, maybe his father wasn’t just using his position to assure his own vain legacy, maybe the five ambulances I saw stuck in traffic with impotently wailing sirens actually saved a life, maybe four kilometers in four hours is reasonable. Who am I to judge? But, would you vote for someone who willingly inconvenienced thousands, and possibly killed a handful of people waiting for medical attention? The choice was made to hold the rally on the busiest road, not in a field nor  a convention center. The choice was made to flex the control and power this father-son duo wielded. If they could bring so many to a stand still, they must be awesome and inspiring men, right?

During the week I was in India, every major political party was campaigning in even the most remote rural areas to solidify their standings in the once-every-five-years election coming up. And by campaigning, I mean they were sending their henchmen in hired cars to outlaying villages with bags and bags of money to bribe votes their way. In one day alone, the police stopped and confiscated over US$500,000 from a couple political cars. And by confiscated, I mean the police kept the money for themselves! Millions of dollars were seized by the police from the political agents during the week I was surveying our meager projects. Millions and millions more made it just in time to buy a bunch of much needed votes.

I asked Ravi how many villages we could help, how many houses we could build, if we had the proceeds from only one day’s political activities, and he said “all of them.” Longitude and ARV have been making steady progress, but it has taken us more than three years to fund raise for the 45 homes we are building in Kothasatram/Indiranagar Village.

I asked Ravi if any of the political candidates were promising houses, education and food to the Dalit. None were. Was there any plan for a better future, for empowerment to effect change in their own lives or even a glimmer of hope for equality for the Dalit? Not within the current scheme of things. Those in power will do anything and everything to keep their power. At least India has that in common with the West.

As I sat in traffic, inhaling a lifetime of exhaust from the buses, vans, cargo trucks and motorcycles next to me, I realized something very, I thought was very profound. Who were driving and riding in the buses, vans, cargo trucks and motorcycles next to me? Were they Dalit? Or, were they from the higher castes? It occurred to me that the Dalit were no where around. Of course, if they could hardly afford to feed their families, and many could not, how could they afford a car payment, insurance, gasoline, and the free time away from struggling to support their families to be galavanting around the busy roads of Vijaywara in so many buses, vans, cargo trucks and motorcycles next to me?

The lesson I took from this experience, while definitely subjective, I believe can be applied to our greater concern for India. The higher castes have built their power and authority on the subjugation of the lower castes, especially the Dalit. Who does the menial labor necessary for higher caste life to exist? The Dalit. Who cleans up the rivers of human effluence with bare hands so the higher castes do not have to? The Dalit. Who lives in the fields of smoldering garbage so the higher castes can have pristine gardens to enjoy at leisure? The Dalit. Who farms the fields and labors to fill the bellies of the higher castes, while rarely being able to provide their families with a handful of rice a day? The Dalit.

(To be continued…)

Rick Mickelson