MAOISTS AND DALITS: A CASE STUDY
IN A LOCALITY IN EASTERN NEPAL
Pustak Ghimire
In Khotang district, the Maoists, too few to become involved in the daily
administration, concentrated on tactical issues: removing the police force
and state officials, taming local notables and blockading Diktel, the
district administrative centre.1, 2 Though the moral transformation of
villagers was a priority,3 radical social and economic reforms were
postponed until the takeover in Kathmandu (Ghimire 2012: 111–112).
However, despite the Maoists’ limited ambitions in the district,
measures to end the discriminatory and vexatious treatment the
untouchables suffered at the hands of all the communities were of
particular import. While shaking up a totally unprepared society, the
Maoists emphasized that a “Dalit problem” did exist, which other
communities were not fully aware of. However, though limited and
isolated, their actions set into motion a process the effects of which have
continued beyond that period in time. Before examining them, it would be
worthwhile discussing the local situation of the untouchables and the very
nature of their problems and resentment.
1
2
3
This study is based on personal experience in Temma, a locality in the
Sapsukhola Valley. Information on the war years was collected during two
field trips (February–October 2007; October 2008–February 2009) and
updated over shorter stays in 2010 and 2011. All were funded by the ANR
program coordinated by Marie Lecomte-Tilouine. For their helpful comments
and corrections to the language, I would like to thank Marie LecomteTilouine, Anne de Sales and Bernadette Sellers (CNRS), Paris.
The modalities of the Màobàdãs’ control varied depending on the districts and
the circumstances, see de Sales (2007: 341–342, 2012: 159); Gellner (2007:
26); Lecomte-Tilouine (2010). On Maoist methods, see Sharma (2004: 51–
53), Onta (2004: 145–148). See also Lecomte-Tilouine (2009: 68–76) for the
Maoists’ conception of war and Pettigrew (2007: 308–309) on the Maoists use
of fear in a Gurung village.
On Maoist puritanism and moral order: Ramirez (1997: 62–64, 2006: 213–
215). Similar tactics were applied by the Naxalites of Bengal where they
carried out an attack on recalcitrant villagers before imposing the strict
puritanical moral code on the population and forming their own parallel state
with a fiscal system (Singh 1995: 4–12). On the influence of the revolutionary
struggle in India, see Boquérat (2009: 46–49).
Studies in Nepali History and Society 16(2): 319–348 December 2011
© Mandala Book Point
320 Pustak Ghimire
The Low Castes in the Villages: Improvement and Frustrations
It is generally assumed that the occupational castes settled in Khotang
between the sixteenth and the eighteenth centuries in the wake of
Brahmin-Chhetris and Magar migrants. Scattered around and about
remote hamlets, they are outnumbered in all the village development
committees (VDCs). They account for less than five percent of the
population of the district and for 15 percent at national level. In Temma,
the VDC we will focus on, the population (4,075 in 2001) is divided into
five main groups: the autochthonous Chamling Rais (48%), the Magars
(22%), the Chhetris (17%), the Dalits (9%) and the Brahmins (3%).4
In Temma, the Dalit group comprises three occupational castes. Of
Hindu persuasion, each caste has its own distinct religious worship with
its own religious specialists, purohits. They do not share festivals or have
any common celebrations. Between them, they maintain a strict hierarchy
and a culture of contempt which impregnates their relationships with the
other Dalit communities. Intermarriage is out of the question.
The upper caste of “blacksmiths” (Kàmã) does not accept food
prepared by “tailors” or “cobblers” who are not even allowed to enter
their homes. Villagers associate “blacksmiths” with their blackened faces
to the spirits of the dead, since they work in the furnace. The idea prevails
that to come across a Kàmã brings a traveller a bad luck.
“Cobblers” (Sàrkã) are despised because of the smell associated with
their craft: they are nicknamed “stinky people” or worse, “scavengers” by
those who imagine that they feed on the carcasses they collect.
“Tailors” (Damàã) occupy the lowest rung in the caste hierarchy.
Kàmãs and Sàrkãs refuse to enter their homes as they do not accept the
food they cook. However, the Damàã provoke mixed feelings. Though
their activities as tailors are scorned, their musical performances (which
are much sought after for propitiatory ceremonies) are greatly
appreciated; unlike “blacksmiths,” they are said to bring good luck to
those who meet them early in the morning.
Thus, geographically scattered over the village, occupational castes
form three separate, rather introverted communities. Each family of
craftsmen maintains a client relationship with the Brahmin-Chhetri or
Magar family that helped it to settle. A relationship of subordination
exists with the Chamling Rai notables of the neighboring villages.
Subservience to the other groups is profoundly interiorized by the Dalits.
4
CBS Census (2004), Kathmandu.
Maoists and Dalits: A Case Study in a Locality in Eastern Nepal 321
This does not imply that the Dalits find themselves in a miserable
economic situation. As a whole, these craftsmen occupy mid-position as
far as their fortune is concerned. The “cobblers,” who own rice fields in
the most fertile part of the valley, have always been part of the village
middle class, but without benefiting from the social consideration that any
well-off rice farmer normally enjoys on the part of his neighbors. It goes
without saying that artisans were excluded from the public office of
mukhiyà which was a source of prestige and income. They did not take
advantage of recruitment into the British Ghurkhas. The civil service and
the teaching profession in particular, was de facto closed to them.
However, they made a decent living year in year out from their craft
activities.
Since the 1980s, the crisis affecting their traditional activities, which
are threatened by Chinese and Indian manufactured products, has tested
the ability of the lower castes to adapt to new economic circumstances. In
the 1990s emigration to work on building sites in the Middle East offered
them new opportunities. Eight Damàãs out of a community of about 120
people, six Kàmãs out of 80, 21 Sàrkãs out of 129, ventured abroad: they
send money to their parents who build comfortable houses and buy land
that they sell mainly to Brahmins-Chhetris. Those who have remained in
Khotang turn out to be more open to innovation than other villagers: the
Dalits who were the first to install diesel-powered mills now earn more in
the village than those abroad; others have become well-known middlemen
involved in emigration networks.
All in all, over the last twenty years, the position of the occupational
castes has improved from an economic point of view. They have been
helped by their manual skills and a familiarity with exchange and trade
which have predisposed them to fending for themselves in a village now
integrated in the market economy. However, the education of their
children has never been a priority (unlike the Brahmins-Chhetris and the
Rais). They project an image of poorly educated communities, astute but
lacking any manners or scruples, who are severely ostracized by Nepal’s
caste society, a bias which is shared by the Chamling Rais.
For the autochthones that are deprived within their own community of
any stratification based on purity, the Hindu hierarchy does not pose any
problem as long as it applies to others. Their basic indifference to what
differs from them is only tempered by their ability to accommodate things
that do not bother them. Thus, for the Chamling Rais, at least till the
Janajati nationalist movement began to question the caste system in the
1990s, the internal hierarchy of Indo-Nepali groups has been regarded as
322 Pustak Ghimire
normal and natural since the Indo-Nepaleses view it that way. This
conformist appropriation of the values of others certainly does not clash
with their own conceptions based on unequal rights between autochthones
and “outsiders.” One might object that the Rai conception does not
convey the culture of contempt in keeping with in the Hindu caste system.
Yet, since the Dalits themselves have internalized the contempt they are
the object of, the Rais also maintain this type of relationship with them.
The rules that reflect the subordinate position of the untouchables
should not be unduly singled out. Accepting water or a cooked meal only
from an equal (or someone of an upper caste) is routine, and does not set
apart the low castes. Similarly, the rule that limits access to some parts of
the house (fireside, kitchen and places of worship) to members of the
household, as well as endogamy, is valid for all communities. These two
aspects, whatever the primary cause, are now components of the Rai
culture, just as they are of Hinduism.5 Ultimately, sexual prejudice
matters more than everything: the mere thought of a sexual relationship
with a Dalit is repulsive since it leads to exclusion from the group of
origin.
Let us not forget that the disdain the untouchables suffer, expressed
through a binding code, is aimed at the caste not at the individual. As part
of the clientele relationship handed down from generation to generation,
personal relationships may be congenial and even cordial insofar as the
strict caste protocol allows for it, especially when families and houses are
some distance away from each other. Indeed, the Brahmin-Chhetris and
the Chamling Rais living at the valley bottom get on better with the
“tailors” and “blacksmiths” living in the lek (Highlands) than with their
neighbors, the “cobblers,” with whom they compete for land. On the other
hand, the relationships between, on one hand, the Damàãs and the Kàmãs
and, on the other hand, the Rais and the Magars in the lek, who share the
same territory, quickly turn sour. It is primarily a question of territory, not
of caste.
Occupational castes generally refrain from getting involved in any
disputes between Brahmin-Chhetris and Chamling Rais (except in 1951,
after the fall of the Rana regime, when they sided with the Rai chieftains
and the Magars to intimidate the higher castes) and from challenging local
5
The origins and development of the caste system in eastern Nepal are still a
topic of much debate, since the Janajati leaders are of the opinion that this
aspect of “Hinduization” was “imported” at a late stage by Brahmin-Chhetri
settlers and “imposed” by the Gurkha monarchy.
Maoists and Dalits: A Case Study in a Locality in Eastern Nepal 323
hierarchies. However, along with the Rais and the Magars, the Dalits are
not the last to mock the higher castes. At the same time, they are forever
complaining to the Brahmin-Chhetris about the Rais and Magars’ harsh
manners. The reputation of gossipmonger that has stuck to the Dalits only
makes things more complicated: every time a Brahmin-Chhetri or a
Chamling Rai borrows money from them, they shout it on the rooftops, so
people say; and when rumors spread concerning prohibited sexual
relationships, they never deny them. The fear of blackmail which gives
the Dalits a potential capacity to harm, combined with the traditional
biases against them, has led the other groups to keep them at a safe
distance.
Despite these ambivalent attitudes and the mutual backbiting,
mainstream communities had long maintained with the small Dalit groups
in the village relations which could be described as distant, globally fair,
and above all marked by indifference. However, the political turmoil
since 2001 has brought to light a “suffering from being untouchable”
which had gone unnoticed, hidden by the traditional social codes.
Insulting expressions and humiliating gestures of avoidance were one
aspect of the problem but such cases are increasingly rare. Another aspect
was the utter lack of interest on the part of other communities towards the
untouchables’ difficulties, sensitivity, and self-esteem. Whereas the
Brahmin-Chhetris, the Rais and even the Magars are forever engaged in
mutual comparison and appreciation, in terms of respect the untouchables
are “invisible.” Their condition condemns them to worthlessness, “zerovalue” in the village hierarchy, “nobodies” who do not count socially,
with no hope of promotion or redemption. No enriched untouchable could
expect to enjoy the social consideration that comes with good fortune and
makes a rich man a local notable. Since the beginning of the 2000s, this
has been the core of the problem.
Maoists and the Dalit Issue
The Dalit issue, though raised decades before, has become increasingly
important at national level in the context of identity claims which
intensified with the “democratic revolution” in the 1990s.6 Whereas the
Muluki Ain of 1854 had carefully regulated and systematized caste status,
the interim constitution of 1951 and the constitution of 1959 and 1962
banned any discrimination based on caste and religion (Caplan 1972: 92–
6
For an historical development of the Nepali Dalit social movement, especially
since 1947, see Kisan (2005: 81–114).
324 Pustak Ghimire
93). On the one hand, the idea of equality between individuals which is
endorsed by law and disseminated through education and media spread
everywhere; the policies in India aimed at promoting disadvantaged castes
became a reference for the Nepali Dalit movement. On the other hand,
changes in everyday behavior were painfully slow and discriminations,
gradually erased from civil law and penalized in 1992, were still
legitimized by religious traditions. In addition, the backwardness which
penalized Dalits in the fields of education and health, primarily an urban
concern, exacerbated their resentment.7
The democratization process, starting from 1990, led to the almost
complete exclusion of Dalits from political life. Whereas under the
Panchayat regime, the monarchy had always sought to ensure the latter’s
symbolic representation in central government, voters rejected the
untouchable candidates in the 1994 and 1999 elections (Hachhetu 2003:
240). During the democratic parliamentary system from 1990 to 2002, no
Dalit personality emerged from the political parties or became Minister.
Demands regarding positive discrimination in the realms of politics,
education, employment, inspired by what has been achieved in India, fell
on deaf ears, and the few projects to improve the condition of low castes
have been shelved (Kisan 2005: 62–75).
The Dalit movement is split into many different organizations, which
are politically divided between progressives and conservatives, and
diffident about the issue of Hinduism (Kisan 2005: 135–155). But, in the
mountain villages of Khotang that were unaffected by the debate taking
place in Kathmandu and in the towns of the Tarai plain, this was hardly a
subject of conversation. Whilst in the cities and at national level the Dalit
NGO federation played a crucial role in raising public awareness about
the disadvantaged castes’ situation, nobody in the village, including the
untouchables themselves, had apparently heard about it. In the 1990s,
none of the occupational castes in Temma had ever envisaged speaking in
one voice to defend a common agenda based on Dalits claims. Though
most of them sympathized with the Communist Party (United-MarxistLeninist [UML]), which was deemed to be more favorable to their
interests, the more conservative Nepali Congress and the Royalist Party
captured a substantial part of their votes. The local untouchable elders
who had considerable influence over their communities were largely
moderate in their outlook, and they certainly remained unaffected by the
Dalit rhetoric which had spread to the cities. It is significant that no “Dalit
7
For an overview see, Bhattachan et al. (2009).
Maoists and Dalits: A Case Study in a Locality in Eastern Nepal 325
section” existed at village level in the three main parties: when they were
politically active, the untouchables mixed with the other communities
(which of course provided the local leaders) and they described
themselves as communist or Congress sympathizers, but certainly not as
Dalits.
The Maoists, a splinter group resulting from a scission of the radical
wing of the Communist Party of Nepal (UML), aspired to a national
regeneration, wanted to reconstruct the State and radically recast society
by revolutionary coercion (Lecomte-Tilouine 2012: 203–205). Wavering
between ideology and pragmatism, their leaders, often Brahmin-Chhetris
or Newars, claim that they might temporarily tolerate the caste system,
purged of its unequal and discriminatory character. For them, the Dalits’
sufferance is a by-product and a vile aspect of the “capitalist feudal caste
system” they want to get rid of. However, the “Dalit question” is not
central to their political thinking. Although the leading voice and the
armed wing of the most underprivileged layers of society (which include
the low castes), the Maoist Communist Party considers itself primarily as
the “party of the whole people,” not as the tool or the vehicle for the
demands of one particular group, however humiliated it may be. Since the
Maoists oppose any discrimination, the affirmative-action policy the Dalit
social movement cherishes is not in keeping with their ideological
heritage. They do not reject it as a principle but they seem to be afraid that
specific actions singularizing the Dalits perpetuate the castes distinction
they want abolish as soon as possible.8 More generally, they know they
would gain nothing by being denounced by their enemy as the Dalits’
golden hope. They prefer to promote themselves as those who were
effective in putting an end to vexatious treatment in daily life,9 where
8
9
Point 67 of the Common Minimum Policy and Program of United
Revolutionary People’s Council adopted in September 2001: “Since the Dalits
are oppressed on a caste basis for long, and are generally weak and
backward economically‚ socially, culturally and otherwise, the state shall
make provisions for special rights to them until they turn practically equal to
others‚ and this shall be governed by rules.” The transitory nature of the
special treatment granted to the Dalits can be deduced from the careful
wording which contrasts with the Maoist inflammatory rhetoric.
All non-Dalits have to use a very formal language when they address the
Dalits. The less polite form of you (tÐ) was no longer tolerated. Dalits had to
be addressed as “brother,” “sister,” “uncle” or “aunt” followed by the
patronymic name and in their turn, Dalits had to abstain from calling the
notables of the other communities Mukhiyà/Mukhinã or Biùña/Biùñinã
(master/mistress), as was expected in the past.
326 Pustak Ghimire
others (meaning the Communists [UML]…) have failed. However, the
“Dalit question” was expected to go away of its own accord, since there is
no room for castes and classes in a communist society.
Wherever they have been able to enforce their program, the Màobàdãs
acted with their well-known brutality. In Deurali, they ordered that
temples be opened to Dalits and in many localities they implemented a
systematic policy to force other castes to open the doors of their houses to
untouchables. They even forced high-caste people to marry Dalits
(Lecomte-Tilouine 2010: 124). Cows were slaughtered and the meat was
cooked by untouchables and shared at community meals where
participants were sometimes invited by force (Boquérat 2009: 54).
However, while the Dalits, initially a small minority in their rank, became
more visible, they were not privileged by the “revolutionary governments
of the village” (Gà-Ja-Sa) which replaced the former local authorities in
the areas they controlled. Moreover, the economic and social policy of the
Maoists was aimed not so much at addressing the specific problems of
Dalits as preparing the ground for a revolutionary order.10
Generally speaking, beyond the application of measures intended to
make clear to everybody that discrimination towards untouchables was no
longer tolerable and their anti-Brahminist stance, the Maoists did little to
back the Dalit movement’s identity claims that were doomed to dissolve
in a new order from which the archaisms and the injustices of the past
would be banished. This belittled the resistance and resilience of the
Nepali socio-religious organization, and specially the propensity of the
Dalits themselves to conceive their problems in the framework of the
caste system, as the example of Khotang illustrates.
How the Maoists Gained the Sympathy of the Dalits
The first generation of Maoist combatants, who were decimated in battles
between 2001 and 2006, counted in their ranks a substantial number of
Brahmins and Chhetris, and some Kirantis and Magars, but few
untouchables. In eastern Nepal where their position was initially weak,
the primary goal of these guerrillas was survival and livelihood.11 They
10
11
Lecomte-Tilouine (2010: 122–123 ), who emphasizes that the Maoist selected
chiefs of Gà-Ja-Sa among isolated “powerless” individuals of the smallest
groups does not give any specific example of a promotion of a Dalit in Deurali
and Dullu, though these localities were showcases for the Maoist order.
For an overview on the Maoists in Khotang, see Ghimire (2012).
Maoists and Dalits: A Case Study in a Locality in Eastern Nepal 327
worked hard to gain the sympathy of Dalits without alienating the
notables of other communities.12
The Màobàdãs were constantly forced to find new shelter. Contacts
with Dalit families in hamlets in the highlands, on the edge of the forests
where they found refuge, initially served their reputation among low
castes. A “blacksmith” woman remembers that a group of Màobàdãs
turned up at her house when her husband was very sick. She needed help
in transplanting finger millet, a tiresome task. As soon as they arrived, the
Maoists took up spades, prepared the ground and transplanted the finger
millet, working ten hours a day for five days. This woman announced that
she was “proud” to have prepared and served meals for these young
people who had been born into upper castes and had no prejudice in
matters of commensality. The Màobàdãs’ solicitude was a self-conscious
subversion of the social and religious order. Thus it was perceived and
appreciated by low castes. It did not cause any ripples in other
communities which, besides, had nothing to say.
The sympathy the Dalits gained became apparent every time the
Maoists summoned the population to attend sessions of the People’s
Court (Jana Adàlat), their own controversial system of justice that
symbolized and implemented their new order (Ghimire 2008–2009: 126–
127). I reported the defamatory treatment of an elderly paõóit who
persisted in ignoring the new regulations enacted in religious matters.
Some Chamling Rai chieftains and Chhetris landowners were also
mistreated, at least as far as their economic interests were concerned when
the Maoists confiscated the rice stored in their attics and distributed it free
of charge to a hesitant population. Whatever the case, it was reported that
the Dalits, obviously summoned by the Màobàdãs, came in large numbers
and were the privileged spectators of the humiliation inflicted on the
“paper tigers” that the former “big men” had become.
I intentionally use the word “spectators.” The Maoists, while
capitalizing on the resentment of the Dalits do not seem to have regarded
the latter as actors of a social revolution, at this stage reduced to a symbol,
which they alone intended to control. Instead, the Dalits constituted a
more or less willing “claque” of the “street theatre” performed by the
Maoists.
12
To know how the Maoists tried to humanize their controversial reputation in
order to gain the sympathy of the villagers in Dolakha, see Shneiderman and
Turin (2004: 90–91).
328 Pustak Ghimire
The humiliation inflicted on the notables, whatever the complex
feelings it might inspire, did not actually guarantee a special place for the
Dalits in the new order. The ostensible sympathy of the new masters, the
hope of improving their fate, and more concretely, the will to gain
consideration that society refused them—especially in the case of young
girls who had virtually no opportunity of expatriation—and perhaps a
deliberate strategy to lend weight to the decisions taken by the local
Màobàdãs as my informants suggested, led many young untouchables to
join the Maoist ranks in order to replace the “martyrs.” However, it was
only during the siege of Diktel in 2004–2006 that villagers started
noticing the presence of untouchables in the Maoist ranks.
Maoist Abruptness
The question of untouchables accessing Hindu sanctuaries, a sensitive
issue in western Nepal, did not arise with any acuity in Khotang which
only has three temples, two of them in areas under army control. No
forced marriage with an untouchable was reported. Other than
consideration for local feelings, this restraint might be explained by the
indirect and intermittent control the Maoists exerted on Khotang from a
distance (Ghimire 2012: 128–130). Yet it would be wrong to believe that
the question of sexual relations was totally overlooked. A case involving a
Chamling Rai, a former mayor elected under the Communist Party UML
banner, will serve to illustrate this point.
Like any local politician, he had enemies among his constituents.
Villagers claim that the latter sought to influence a schoolgirl of sixteen,
born into a “blacksmith” family and of an unknown father, with an
uncanny resemblance to the mayor. When the girl, manipulated by them,
solemnly asked her putative father for compensation and a share of her
heritage, she was sorely rebuked. Revolted and abused, she joined the
ranks of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) to fight injustice and more
especially to inform her new friends of the wrong she had suffered.
Several months later, the PLA stormed the village and invited the
former mayor to recognize his failings and his child. To help him
remember, he was beaten up in front of his wife and neighbors. The man
confessed what they wanted to hear. The girl now has a father whose
name she bears. She has inherited a rice field worth 400,000 rupees.
A dispute of greater importance arose in connection with untouchables
accessing the houses of the other communities.
Each house is primarily a sanctuary for domestic worship. The sacred
hearth and the altar of the household deities are located in the main room.
Its access is restricted to members of the clan. That is why, in all
Maoists and Dalits: A Case Study in a Locality in Eastern Nepal 329
communities, the veranda, yard and garden are a privileged space for
sociability and conviviality. The rule is strictly enforced by Chamling
Rais whose ancestors physically reside in three locations: the three sacred
stones of the hearth (distinct from the fireplace where they cook), the
main pillar and the jar of sacred liquor (Mochàmà).
During the People’s War, villagers had to shelter Maoist fugitives. For
security reasons, they hid for several days on the first floor of the house
without emerging except at night, subject to their hosts’ good will. In this
special context, when everybody was equally afraid of a sudden army raid
which could lead to dire consequences for all, villagers and Màobàdãs
played their part to make things easy. The former were reluctant to
overlook the rules, but they learned to adjust to an unpleasant situation.
The courtesy shown at that time by the Màobàdãs helped: as they now all
say, “the first generation of Maoists were all deferential, modest and very
polite.” These words conceal another reality: these Màobàdãs of the
period 2001–2004 were Brahmin-Chhetris and Newars, or Chamling
Rais, thus naturally respectful of the autochthones and Hindus’ sacred
places, and of the protocol that governs access to buildings and gestures.
By contrast, the Dalits who joined the revolutionary ranks in 2004–2006
under a concealed identity revealed who they were by their manifest
ignorance of this protocol. Over the months, a climate of suspicion arose
between the hosts and their guests.
When the Maoists tightened their hold over Khotang, certain “fauxpas,” first occasional and involuntary, became wilful and vexatious. A
policy of systematic intrusion into private homes, intended to breach the
social prejudices against the Dalits, left its victims stunned and helpless. I
was once told the misadventures of a Brahmin family, more amazed than
indignant, as they struggled with a Damàã girl of Solukhumbu who
invaded the most sacred spaces of their house (Ghimire 2008–2009).
High-caste people, concerned exclusively with their neighbors’
opinion, were fatalistic because, as they would say, everyone was in the
same boat. As a Chhetri confessed, “there is not one house in Khatrãgƒu
where untouchables have not entered. So today, everyone is pure or
everyone is impure.” This Chhetri, who managed to dissociate himself
from this obsession with purity, skilfully observed that, whereas Dalit
intrusions into the homes of Brahmin-Chhetris had exasperated them, the
Chamling Rais had felt downright violated for two reasons: “first of all,
the Rai deem that this is their home, that they are the masters of the land
and their houses are not hostels for any person to enter as they please.
Secondly, a Rai house does not belong so much to its occupants as to their
330 Pustak Ghimire
ancestors, who are perpetually present, living and invisible at the same
time; it is their temple, their sanctuary, and it is out of the question for an
untouchable (achåt) to put one foot inside …” Rai neighbors confirmed
this view: “We, the Rais, do not believe that all men are equal. On one
side there are the divinities of the house, our ancestors and ourselves, and
on the other side there are all the others. Those others, even the Brahmins,
are all “untouchables” in the eyes of the divinities of the house. Our house
belongs to our divinities, who do not accept strangers in our home, as
long as it remains ours.”
These are words of suffering, rather than exasperation, I heard from a
Rai whose home has been desecrated. This Chamling notable was taken
aback to find his house invaded by strangers who had already emptied the
jar of sacred liquor (Mochàmà) placed near the fireplace (where the
ancestors dwell) and were grilling maize in the sacred hearth (målculhà).
They were all untouchables merrily riding roughshod over forbidden
places. After getting them to leave in return for a considerable
revolutionary donation, the unfortunate owner started suffering from sleep
disorders and nightmares. His health deteriorated at an alarming rate. All
the Shamans explained that the house’s divinities were agitated, in
turmoil, because untouchables had polluted the sacred places. The Rai
notable, struck by the ancestors’ wrath, was desperate: “If the gods of the
house turn away from me, it’s the end of my family.”
Tensions between Chhetris and Cobblers
In the previously reported cases, villagers were pitched head-to-head with
unwelcome Màobàdã guests of unknown origin, not with their
untouchable neighbors. While low castes were initially keen to keep a low
profile, the hope that they would obtain unambiguous support from the
Maoists encouraged some local Dalits to speak out, and even to confront
other communities. These occasional tensions were limited to the villages
of the byàsã (valley bottom) where the “cobblers,” the most well-off
among the low castes, have competed for decades with other communities
for land ownership.
As mentioned earlier, since the Chhetris resettled the “cobblers” at the
bottom of the valley, where their activities are less of a disturbance to
their neighbors, the “cobblers” have given up their craft to become rice
growers whose prosperity matches that of the average Brahmin-Chhetri or
Chamling Rai. However, some of them have remained crippled by debts
inherited from their grandparents. The following story, which was
narrated by a 36-year-old cobbler and was confirmed by other villagers, is
Maoists and Dalits: A Case Study in a Locality in Eastern Nepal 331
an example of how in the past illiterate and guileless Dalits could end up
being abused by unscrupulous neighbors.
More than fifty years ago, the former Chhetri jimmàwàl (tax collector and
leading figure in his community) in Khatrigaun made a loan to a
“cobbler.” Since then, the borrower’s family has had to work for the
loaner’s progeny. The Maoist upsurge prompted the grandson to ask his
creditor (who, of course, sent him about his business) how much grain his
grandfather had been given, and why it had not yet been repaid. The “big
men” of Temma, whether Chamling Rais, Brahmins, Chhetris or Magars,
mocked him and asked: “How long has it taken a stinky boy (the
nickname for Sàrkãs) to become smart (Kahile dekhi gandhe bàñho
bhayo)?” He then learned that his grandfather had borrowed 80 kilos of
finger millet and maize two generations ago, that the interests had accrued
and that he was far from having settled his debt. His parents and
grandparents had never dared to ask any questions: they had assumed that
Sàrkãs had to put up with such things.
When the Maoists took over Khotang, the Sàrkãs were among the few
to take the slogan “land to the tiller” (Jasko jot usko pot) literally. The
landowners became alarmed. To guard themselves against any claim,
some of them decided to break all the farm tenancies in February 2004
and leave their land fallow. However, their Sàrkã tenants cried foul and
turned a deaf ear when called to give back the farmland. Faced with their
unwillingness, a Chhetri notable called upon local Maoist leaders for
help, since one of them was related to him. A Maoist militia suddenly
raided Sàrkãgƒu, the Màobàdãs pointed their guns at the chest of the
unruly tenants and warned them to pay more respect in the future to the
inviolable and sacred right to property. Terrified, the Sàrkãs quickly
understood that they would never measure up to a landowner who had
connections among the Màobàdãs. Sickened by this affair, some youths
decided to join the ranks of the People’s Army to gain inside influence,
just as the Chhetri had managed to do. Indeed, as their relatives told me
later, for these young disappointed Sàrkãs, the Màobàdãs who were
supposed to be the “natural righters of wrongs” arbitrated in favor of the
local “big men” just because they were misinformed or misguided. They
could not apparently imagine that the Maoist political direction had its
own tactical priorities where the Dalits’ interests were not, at least in that
case, of prime importance. In taking up the Maoist cause, the “cobblers”
thought they could effectively defend their community interests from the
inside, as the Chhetris did, to become agents of their own emancipation:
they decided to side with the potential winners in the hope they would not
betray the Dalits’ interest when the time of a peace agreement came.
332 Pustak Ghimire
Whereas relations between Chhetris and Sàrkãs were already strained,
a serious incident opposed the two villages in 2005 during the festival of
Tihar.
According to Chhetri witnesses, that evening, two young Sàrkãs returned
home to Sàrkãgƒu. They had spent the night joking and drinking with their
young Chamling friends in the neighboring Rai village of Jyàmire. They
were drunk and out for a fight. Near Khatrãgƒu, they met a Chhetri who
was on his way home after receiving the Tãkà from a clan sister. Annoyed
by the two drunk guys who needed light to find their way home, the
Chhetri refused to lend them his torch, and saw them off with a
resounding “good night, Stinky boys!” A fight broke out. Alerted by the
screams, a septuagenarian Chhetri, a highly respected notable, known for
his progressive views, came down from his veranda and roused the
neighborhood. Unfortunately for him the two Sàrkãs flattened the old man,
tore off his trouser and grabbed his testicles, “just like when they castrate
cattle” an indignant witness told me. Awakened by the noise, about fifty
Chhetris, men, women and children, came out of their houses. The two
Sàrkãs had cleared off, but there was a strong feeling of indignation
among the Chhetris: not only was the victim a man who had done nothing
to deserve this degradation, but nobody could let someone wearing the
sacred thread be abused by two “cobblers” whose contact forever inspires
repulsion, as the Chhetri witnesses stressed.
The Chhetris, emotionally shocked, sought the path to Sàrkãgƒu in a
torchlight procession and demanded that the drowsy “cobblers” deliver the
culprits. Anticipating the worst, the Sàrkã purohit vainly strove to calm the
situation. As he told me later, he implored both the Sàrkãs and the Chhetris
to postpone a decision to the morning, when everybody recovers a clear
and cold mind: “Let us stop the uproar! It is night time, our boys are drunk
but they are not alone to have drunk. We all should control our emotion
and anger. I can certify the boys will stay in the village and we will meet
with the victim together tomorrow. I know, such things should not
happen. I humbly request all of you to go back home (mero bintã cha
sabai ghar gaidinuhos!).” Deaf to reason, some impatient young Chhetris
forced a door but the Sàrkãs overpowered their attackers by throwing
stones from the top of their verandas and the low walls surrounding their
fields. The cobblers’ village became a battlefield until the defeated
Chhetris retreated. Some people were slightly wounded. The whole village
was in turmoil.
At dawn, the Chhetris called upon the Maoists to render justice and
the latter (once again…) stormed Sàrkãgƒu, found the Sàrkã aggressors
guilty (“no mercy for drunkards” is a part of the Màobàdã doctrine…): one
of them had already fled to India; the second served the sentence that the
People’s Court imposed on him, three months’ forced labor in a Maoist
rehabilitation camp.
Though Màobàdã justice was generally regarded as fair, both sides
were left to lick their wounds after this affair. Though far from proud of
how their two boys had behaved and not too happy with Maoist
Maoists and Dalits: A Case Study in a Locality in Eastern Nepal 333
arbitration, the “cobblers” were astonished at their self-confidence, and
delighted at having thrashed the Chhetris. The Chhetris, who had hardly
distinguished themselves with their bravery during the night-time fight,
were well aware of their weaknesses. One of their notables told me that
“the Sàrkãs had grown bold. One day, they will overcome us, we, the
Chhetri cowards who were unable to defend ourselves. Since we let such
an honest old man be mistreated as we did, nobody is safe now.
As such, the importance of this incident should not be overrated. In no
way, it reflected the existence of tensions which should be singularized.
The drunkards’ quarrels are a part of the village life, and they do not
degenerate infrequently: sometimes dozens of youths of neighboring
villages come to fight, creating a short time emotion in the whole area;
umpires (usually retired Gurkhas) are chosen to settle an arrangement,
often based on mutual apologies and forgiveness of the offences,
sometimes on monetary compensation. What, first of all, chocked the
population of the valley (including the “cobblers” themselves, and
probably the Maoists) was the lack of respect of drunken boys for a
highly respectable elderly man: the form of offence was in itself a matter
of scandal since Sàrkãs are appointed for the castration of animals! For all
those (Sàrkãs, Chhetris, but also Rais and Magars) who told me the story,
the indignant treatment inflicted to the old man was one of the many
unfortunate examples of the collapse of the natural hierarchies which took
place between 2001 and 2006: an elderly notable was mistreated by
young scoundrels, a man reputed for his sobriety and the dignity of his
life was assaulted by drunkards, last but not least, a Chhetri, heir of the
Ksatryas, and even worse an entire Chhetri village were ridiculed by
“cobblers” who suddenly turned into “warriors.” With distance and
hindsight, when I talked with all the protagonists five years later, the
“Tihar night incident” was no more a matter of shame, glory, even
resentment, just an embarrassment. Overnight, the natural order of things
was upside down, as it happened so often during these years full of
unbelievable events. Tihar night was slowly forgotten but the memory
remains that the untouchables can stand up for themselves; this new
reality impressed not only the Chhetris and the Brahmins but also the
Magars and the Chamling Rais who, more than everyone, try to ensure
the balance between communities of the valley will remain, as far as
possible, unchanged in the future.
334 Pustak Ghimire
After the Insurrection
When the Maoist combatants left Khotang in 2006, intercommunal
relations calmed down. The system of municipalities was not restored and
the revolutionary “Gà-Ja-Sa” gave way to “triumvirates,” with one
member from each major party (Nepali Congress, UML and Maoist), all
Rais and Magars selected from among the former elected officials from
the 1980s and 1990s. As before, the Dalits were not in a position to act as
key figures in the VDCs where they were outweighed. Their notables
were perceived as lacking the authority and also the manners necessary to
settle disputes, and this task fell to the triumvirates. As for the “Gà-Ja-sa,”
the Maoists never tried to impose Dalits in local “high-visibility” posts in
Khotang. Some untouchables aired their opinion on the local Maoist party
committee, an authority that was indeed of some importance, but their
elderly notables preferred to keep a low profile. The few young Dalits
from the village who joined the Peoples’ Army have not returned and I
could get little information about their experience. The Dalits knew what
they owed the Maoists, and that they had nothing to expect from Nepali
Congress and the Communist Party (UML), both at national and local
levels: though most villagers were this time unusually unostentatious
about their political choices, it is generally admitted that most of the
Dalits voted for the Maoist Party in the April 2008 general elections. It is
certainly true for the younger generation who, in conversations, do not
conceal their preference.
As time went by, people noticed that, when Maoist guerillas were
confined to camps under UN supervision, dozens of young people from
the Young Communist League (YCL) were seen wandering around
Khotang, most of them from unknown castes whose accent and general
behavior betrayed their origins. Nobody was keen to offer them
hospitality since they were suspected of being Dalits and of hiding their
identity, but the notables who wanted to get well in with the Maoists, and
the teachers who are not supposed to show any caste bias, felt obliged to
do so. These young people, both very polite and very inquisitive,
displayed a remarkable curiosity in the way villagers behaved with the
Dalits. Once the social values inculcated by the Màobàdãs had been
forgotten, they visited the offenders at home to teach them a moral lesson.
There were very few offenders indeed, and as long as the Maoists had
“eyes and ears” in the vicinity, everybody strove to be nice to the Dalits.
With time, this has become routine practice. Thanks to this pedagogy, the
most visible expressions of contempt have now disappeared, at least in
Maoists and Dalits: A Case Study in a Locality in Eastern Nepal 335
public conversations and attitudes. It has primarily left its mark on the
language.13
Twenty years ago, outside their own caste, no one greeted an
untouchable as “father,” “mother,” “uncle” or “aunt,” since it sounded
deferent or familiar. To an old and respectable Dalit, the older generation
said “eldest” (jeñhà) or “youngest” (kànchà). My generation greeted him
as “elder brother” (dàju), his wife as “sister-in-law” (bhàujå) or “elder
sister” (didã). It was not in itself a mark of contempt, since this salutation
is rather impersonal. However, it attributed to the Dalits a permanent
position of junior members within the village family. The inferiority of
the Dalits’ status was made more evident by the demonstrations of respect
required of them. When they addressed a married Brahmin-Chhetri, Rai
or Magar, they had to call them “master” or “mistress” (mukhiyà or
mukhinã), a salutation which is obsolete today in other communities. It
reminded the Dalits that they remained, at least formally, dependants and
clients. Moreover, whatever their age and social position, the Dalits were
compelled to use the formal and respectful “you,” tapàŒ, when talking
with members of other communities. In return, caste people, Rais, Newars
and Magars, called them by the most informal “you,” tÐ, which in this
case is more disdainful than affectionate. All in all, relations were like
those between an adult and a child. However, since the 1980s, the “you,”
timã, less contemptuous, has been gaining ground at the expense of tÐ.
Determined to root out all traces of inequality, the Maoists sought to
do away with the dual system of the formal “you” tapàŒ and informal
“you” tÐ, which is humiliating when used by a dominated person and
contemptuous when used by a dominant person. They tried replacing this
“vestige of the past” with the reciprocal use of tapàŒ or timã, both
egalitarian forms which they cherish. At the same time, the Dalits,
encouraged by the Màobàdãs, had abandoned the formal tapàŒ and had
begun to call the Brahmin-Chhetris, Magars and the Chamling Rais by the
informal timã. These transgressions occurred in a climate of widespread
suspicion: many Maoist fighters of Dalit stock, who hid their identity to
impersonate Brahmin-Chhetris, betrayed themselves with their
inappropriate familiarity, a baffling preference for the informal “you”
13
This aspect was discussed at an international symposium organized by Marie
Lecomte-Tilouine and Anne de Sales (Authoritative Speech in the Himalayan
Region, Paris, 25–26 November, 2011): Ghimire (Pustak): “Authority, Status
and Caste Markers in Everyday Village Conversations: The Example of
Eastern Nepal.”
336 Pustak Ghimire
timã, and their ignorance of the subtle protocol that governs other castes
and family communities. Felt as verbal aggression, the use of timã is now
associated with caste fraud and identity theft perpetrated by the Dalits and
with the intrusion of revolutionaries in the family’s privacy. The
reciprocal form of respect, tapàŒ, which tended to be the normal form in
inter-caste conversations, now prevails: equality is respected, courtesy is
impeccable but distance is maximal...14
Access to the most private areas of the house is a more crucial
question, especially for the Chamling Rais. I have already underlined the
trauma caused by the intrusion of Màobàdãs when they were of Dalit
origin.
After the Màobàdã fighters’ departure from Khotang over a three- or
four-year period, for no real reason but no doubt because they no longer
wanted to throw open their doors to strangers of undetermined caste, as
we will see, all the communities spread the word about transferring their
cooking area to the corner of the veranda, outside the house. The Rais
turned the sacred hearth where their ancestors reside into a place for
worship alone, enclosed by a low wall and to which strangers no longer
have access.
A Chamling Rai notable, in charge of his clan ancestral worship
explained to me:
When the pàrñãko mànche (Maoists) ruled, we were obliged to allow
strangers to enter our houses and come close to places forbidden to
anybody who does not belong to our clan. As you know, the sacred hearth
målculhà, the jar Mochàmà and the main pillar målkhambà are the places
where our ancestors live, the place where we perform the rituals of our
worship. We couldn’t do anything to oppose them and our heart was
broken. We saw our sacred spaces desecrated and our tradition blatantly
ignored by unwelcomed guests who were proud to ignore it! When the
Party left, we knew that things would never be as before. But we did not
want to close our doors to our friends, to members of other clans and
families because to give our visitors the best possible welcome is a
tradition we are all proud of, a part of our way of life. If we do not offer
them a bowl of fermented finger millet beer (ek óabakà kodoko jƒó), or a
cup of liqueur (ek kacaurà raksã), we would be regarded as inhospitable
and thrifty. So we made a compromise: visitors and guests shall be
welcome in the open-air kitchen. It is healthier because they are no longer
exposed to the smoke from the kitchen. And our ancestors pitri can live in
peace without being disturbed by unwelcome intruders.
14
On my last field trip, I noted that only very old and stubborn people still use tÐ
when they address a Dalit.
Maoists and Dalits: A Case Study in a Locality in Eastern Nepal 337
The Brahmins-Chhetris share the same concern. Caste people worship
their kulayàna (the deities of the clan) in a special place in the main room
diyoghar that only the members of the same clan (excluding the married
daughters) are allowed to approach. A Brahmin priest explained to me:
I located the kitchen on the other side of veranda, a place where nobody
has direct access since they have to go around the house. I put two
benches and in the middle a long low table for the meal. The guests are
invited here and here only. I have not yet sat on the same bench with an
untouchable but, should I do it, this arrangement will not make anybody
uncomfortable. Of course, my children do not care too much about sitting
with an untouchable, but for me it is different: I am 71, I was raised with
other ideas, and I no longer want to be embarrassed by all those who are
demanding equality and quite rightly so. It looks cleaner, more civilized
and less discriminatory. All in all, it is more convenient than ever.
These arrangements did not irk the untouchables in the village who
had never taken part in the sacrilegious intrusions led by the Màobàdãs,
chiefly to avoid any reprisals but also because they were utterly foreign to
the accepted rules governing village social life and they offended shared
religious values. More generally, the Dalits of Khotang have never tried
to force the door of those who will never say to them “make yourselves at
home!” but they would like at least to enjoy some distant courtesy which
is the normal pattern between members of different groups.15
One specific case of exclusion has fuelled the Dalits’ resentment.
Whereas, despite the specificity of each worship, a shared form of
sociability may emerge during celebrations such as Tihar or through
invitations between neighbors to attend family events (weddings,
funerals…), the Dalits are never welcome at these festivities, except for
the Damàã “tailors,” when they are only called upon to play music. The
Maoists banned this tradition of playing pan̂cai bàjà16 during wedding
ceremonies and other propitiatory occasions or lavish celebrations where
everybody from the villages could be invited, denouncing it as “feudal.”
As long as they had direct control over the country, no problems arose
because nobody felt like having fun at festivals. When they left Khotang
in 2006, a step backwards was unimaginable. The untouchables timidly
and hesitantly suggested they would like to be invited to festivities as
guests, not as employees. Their request caused considerable
embarrassment. For communal and religious celebrations, the local
provisional authorities, who had to report back to the Maoists, felt obliged
15
16
Same attitude in Deurali: Lecomte-Tilouine ( 2010: 124)
The five traditional musical instrument played by the tailors (Damàã).
338 Pustak Ghimire
to make adjustments. Whereas the respected Dalit elders restricted
themselves to a much appreciated discretion, more audacious youths
caused some unease. As a Kàmã explained: “I want to eat with Brahmins
no matter what, because in sharing their meals I myself become a
Brahmin, or they become a Dalit like me: it is at the same table and under
the same roof that we are really equal, that we all become similar….” The
result was not long in coming and today Damàã musicians are no longer
called upon for fear that their congeners might imagine that they too are
invited. Stereo music is played instead! Even neighbors are invited less
often to avoid giving the impression of excluding the untouchables: the
major celebrations of the past tend to have become family parties held in
the strictest privacy. To explain these restrictions, breaking with the
tradition of sometimes extravagant ceremonies of the past, saving money
can always be used as a valid excuse.
The new protocol that governs commensality between the Dalits and
other communities is still ambivalent, floundering, and uncertain.
Offending attitudes are gradually disappearing, mainly because the
Màobàdãs may return one day, but the discomfort is palpable; nobody
knows how to behave and everyone fears a witness’s deprecatory glance.
The untouchables, formerly objects of scorn, are now an embarrassment:
the more “touchable” they are, the more “undesirable” they become.
Though the issues regarding commensality are of primary importance
for everybody, not all villagers are stubborn conservatives. Rural society
has become a complex mixture of poorly educated farmers, teachers,
unemployed former students, shopkeepers and expatriates who have
returned from abroad. Younger people who have taken advantage of
school care less about stereotypes and what people say. They all have
different experiences and different points of view.
The debate that has been brought out into the open is in itself a
significant development. Note that virtually nobody tries to justify the
discriminations the Dalits have been suffering as being a matter of
principle. Most villagers agree that caste bias is an unpleasant legacy of
the past which will be difficult to get rid of.
In 2011, when I asked some teachers in Temma, now the leading
group in the villages and the one which sets the tone for the debate,
whether society has changed its stand vis-à-vis the Dalits, they admitted:
We do not know how to bridge the gap. The traditional religious thinking,
social practices, culture, lack of education and the fixed social rules of
each clan combine to maintain the status quo. We should have
philosophical debates and talk more about castes and humanity. We
Maoists and Dalits: A Case Study in a Locality in Eastern Nepal 339
should educate the people, but not as the Maoists did. They said they
wanted to rehabilitate the Dalits, but in fact they merely pursued shortterm objectives: to earn their support and make them a showcase for a
rupture in social relations. They acted quickly, swiftly, abruptly… and
they failed. Moreover, the Maoists did not make it clear whether they
wanted to introduce caste equality or to abolish the caste system
altogether: to ban discriminations is one thing, to eradicate culture and
religion by melting down the Brahmins, Chhetris, Dalits, Rais and Magars
in the same communist pot is another!
That said, the teachers I talked with were unable to agree on clear-cut
solutions. Some of them who are associated with the “progressive wing”
in the village (i.e. sympathizers of the Maoist and of the Communist Party
UML) question both the “Brahmanist ideology” and the Kiranti religious
tradition which tend to legitimate the discriminations. However, beyond
an anticlerical (and probably anti-religious…) stance equally shared by
some high caste and Chamling Rai teachers, they admit that they have
little to propose in practical terms. When the new Constitution formally
declares Nepal a secular State, will it change human relationships in the
villages significantly? What is the point in forever blaming the Brahmins
for having invented and legitimized the castes system when the Kirantis
and the Magars were certainly not the last to assimilate the Brahmin
ideology and, at least at local level, to maximize the benefits they could
reap from it? Who were first to humiliate the Dalits, the Brahmin priests
obsessed with purity, or the feudal “mukhiyàs,” Chhetris, Chamling Rais
and Magars, who together wanted to exploit a cheap source of labor on
their farms? The debate I attended was lively. Though each individual
opinion revealed community and caste belonging, it was also tempered by
the ideological preferences and party membership. Thus, among those
who think that things shall change, there were as many opinions as
speakers… Their “conservative” opponents had no shortage of arguments
(not one of them is new…) in the heated village discussions. They said
that it is a waste of time and a lost struggle to oppose religion. No
improvement can be envisaged as long as the Dalits are associated with
activities that are perceived by the other castes as repulsive: the
“cobblers” manipulate rotten flesh of dead cows, the “blacksmiths” are
associated with the forge and the furnace, the “tailors” extend their hand
for money, with their sanài flutes, a gesture more or less consciously
associated with the begging tradition. A teacher at Mattim High School
urged the Dalits to give up their traditional crafts to become rice growers
in order to obtain respectability. But he was told that craftsmen who
moved ahead to become successful farmers (like the “cobblers” in Mattim
340 Pustak Ghimire
and Temma two generations ago) reaped jealousy, not the respect of their
neighbors…
In short, the debate is flagging because the noble intentions of the
speaker, by all means a willing soul, are hampered by “the others”: the
Brahmins, who invented the caste system, the silently disapproving
neighbors who discourage closer ties with the untouchables, or the Dalits
themselves who, at least for some villagers, never do enough to break
away from their image.
From an outside point of view, such debates, even when well inspired,
are hardly conclusive. It turns out that people of all castes and
communities are not fully aware that the treatment reserved for the Dalits,
a treatment nobody tries to justify, is not an aspect of the caste system
which could be isolated and abolished on humanitarian grounds. That it is
the most visible feature of a way of life, of a way of thinking which
conveys multi-faceted biases, social preferences and social prejudices, all
linked and melted in a general tendency towards inequality shared by all
groups. In Nepal, and certainly in the villages, nobody (except maybe
Maoist ideologues and former expatriates who have lived for a long time
abroad) can simply imagine what a system without castes could be like
and how it could work. The perception of the world, society, relations
with the other are governed by tacit references to a caste and community
system which impregnates everyone’s “self” because a villager perceives
himself first as a member of a group, then as an individual. In the
meantime, progress and improvements rely on permanent mutual, often
minor, adjustments. For Dalits and non-Dalits, this is an uncomfortable
situation indeed.
The Wavering Aspirations of the Low Castes
The low castes, which have little to expect from other communities, place
more hope in the reforms that will be decided on in Kathmandu. Today,
49 Dalits have seats in the Constitutional Assembly (CA), 21 of them in
the Maoist group. The “Caste-based Discrimination and Untouchability
Act” passed in May 2011 which criminalizes discrimination both in
public and private spheres was credited to the Maoists. While their elders
keep a low profile, the young Dalits of Temma have recently recovered
their voices, which had remained silent since 2006, as a leading local
figure of the Maoist party reported with great satisfaction in 2011: they
are outspoken and deliver clearly argued political speeches. But this
politicized young generation does not fully identify with the Maoists: they
are Dalits first and foremost. As a Damàã explained me: “We side with
Maoists and Dalits: A Case Study in a Locality in Eastern Nepal 341
the Maoists because they side with us. We know we will stand to gain in
the future more with them than with the other parties. But it is give and
take on both sides!” This realism draws on the lessons of the past. In the
1990s, the Communists UML were full of good intentions which became
tangled up in the capital’s political wrangling. “We shall take advantage
of the fear instilled by the Maoists, but we must first rely on our own
resources,” the young Damàã concluded.
Over the last ten years, as I have already underlined, the Dalits have
turned out to be one of the most dynamic segments of village society.
Only two blacksmiths, one cobbler, and three tailors were still involved in
artisanal activities in their traditional form. The other tailors no longer
go around to their customers’ houses, with their sewing machine on their
shoulders. They work at home, waiting for cash payment for their
services. In the new market economy, a client-supplier monetary
relationship has replaced the former paternalistic links. Because they have
not overinvested in their children’s education and the purchase of
agricultural land, they have been able to rapidly convert to the most
profitable activities: trade, rural services, and above all emigration. While
the other communities wear themselves out competing over land and
prestige, both relics of the past, the more astute Dalits head toward the
future.
Outward-looking Dalits think that money is the key to the caste
problem, but they are few in number. The most enterprising ones leave
the village, they migrate abroad or settle in the cities: one successful
middleman who promotes the emigration of Dalits to the Middle East
shares his time between the Gulf countries, Kathmandu where he owns an
agency, a house and the place where his children go to the best schools,
and the village where he recruits candidates for expatriation. But the rest
stay behind: the less economically innovative they are, the more
conservative their aspirations. Those who cannot imagine their life
outside the familiar surroundings of their home village still look for
recognition in a society which does not open its door easily.
New forms of religiosity, deriving from a syncretistic and mystical
form of Hinduism, which appeared in 1995, have proliferated since 2003
in and around Temma. The “Bhagawotãs,” a phenomenon that consists in
girls and women claiming to be possessed by the Great Goddess øakti,
have multiplied. Initially, this was to be found among the Chamling Rais
before spreading to the Magars. At this stage, it seemed to reveal a desire
to purify the indigenous worship of its now controversial aspects, such as
blood sacrifices and alcohol consumption. In the context of Maoist
342 Pustak Ghimire
insurgency, it might also be regarded as a women’s protest against male
violence (alcoholism, domestic abuse, war...). These Bhagawotãs
welcome to their oratories devotees of all origins, with no discrimination.
Dalit women attended the rituals in the beginning as onlookers, then as
active devotees. For the first time, worship was not confined to the
narrow family, clan or community circles but opened to all believers,
irrespective of sex, caste and origin. It was a break with an essential
feature of village life, perhaps as decisive as the innovations the Maoists
force upon them. The Màobàdã cadres, who observed that the
Bhagawotãs, unlike the Brahmins-Chhetris and the traditionalist Rais,
welcomed the Dalits into their chapels as they dispensed with caste
hierarchies, treated these new cults with benign indifference (Ghimire
2008–2009: 126–127).
The recent extension of the phenomenon to the untouchable castes
displays distinctive features.
It all started in 2007 with a “blacksmith” Bhagawotã, followed by
another in 2008 and then four “tailor” Bhagawotã. Up until 2007 the
goddesses were grouped together in the highlands. But eight of the last
eleven deities who appeared between October 2007 and October 2008
were Sàrkã girls living at the bottom of the valley. As far as the standards
of ritual purity are concerned, all “goddesses” can compete with the most
scrupulous Brahmins. They abhor blood sacrifices and alcohol; their
families are ostensibly vegetarian and teetotallers. One Damàã Bhagawotã
was even more radical. She regarded herself as being cleaner and purer
than all the high-caste women from whom she refused cooked food. For
her, the touchable had become untouchable: “Bhagawotã who dwells in
me does not allow me to eat out of my family circle, I eat only at home
because only my children and my husband can cook for me,” she
explained to me.
In 2008, I went to give my regards to the last born of the Bhagawotãs,
a “blacksmith” mother of a large family that nothing predisposed to
embody the divine breath, as her jocular neighbors suggested. The
goddess performs healing and divinatory activities for Rai, Magar and
Chhetri female customers. After the last rites, while commensality
prohibits accepting anything from an untouchable, the goddess’s husband,
well aware of breaching a social principle, furtively put the vermilion tãkà
on the foreheads of the attendants. It did not cause a scandal because the
devotees, taken by surprise, were afraid of his formidable wife. When tea
was served (a new transgression of the rules, since no drink can be
accepted from an untouchable) everybody was on their guard and terribly
Maoists and Dalits: A Case Study in a Locality in Eastern Nepal 343
embarrassed, but only a couple of elderly Magars dared turn down the
offer of tea. “Who are you to refuse what the great goddess Bhagawotã
offers!” growled the incarnate deity who was on the alert for the slightest
blunder. The Magars, terrified by the wrath of the goddess, fell over
themselves apologizing and hastily swallowed their tea.
As I was the first Brahmin to ever visit her, the goddess honored me
with a private audience. I was rewarded with a long diatribe against those
who despise the Dalits: “the Chhetris are hypocrites: they look down on
us but they come to our village to drink alcohol secretly. The Rais are also
contemptuous but I should admit I was recently invited to the communal
meal of Jyàmire and allowed to sit beside the former mayor. The worst
are the Magars of Kahule who never invite us to the communal meal or,
worse, which relegate us to the sidelines, separated from the rest of
society. They are really primitive (asavya), you know!” Angry at her
neighbors, Bhagawotã did not have to complain about the Brahmins
whom she had only ever met fleetingly.
When I was walking back, a Chamling Rai, a leading figure in the
Highlands, called me over. He was enraged and terrified. The news that I
had accepted a drink and a Tãkà from the blacksmiths had, within half an
hour, been all round the villages. “You have no idea of what you have
done! Everything this so-called Bhagawotã does tends to break the rules.
She is manipulative and you fell into the trap. Hardly will you have
turned your back and her family will be advertising the fact that a very
educated Brahmin came for lunch. Of course, it is not your problem, in a
few weeks you will be abroad. We will have to endure that woman until
the end of our days. You are irresponsible!”
This reaction made me more cautious. The Sàrkãs, flattered by my
interest in their goddesses, underlined the additional honor that these
repeated epiphanies had earned their community. This has yet to be
checked. Some Bhagawotãs opt for provocative if not transgressive
behavior: a young Damàã goddess, upset at some joke, flared up and
provoked a terrible scandal insulting a Chamling Rai shaman with some
very foul language, which was unanimously considered to be unworthy of
a divinity. The Chhetris remain unmoved by the religious efflorescence
among their Sàrkã neighbors: “the Sàrkãs harp on at us about having to
venerate their Bhagawotã. Do you honestly believe that a goddess can
become incarnate among scavengers?”
It is worth noting that the forever increasing number of Bhagawotãs of
low castes do not question the castes system as such. When I returned to
Temma in 2011, I was told that the Kàmã “goddess,” who had honored me
344 Pustak Ghimire
with a private audience, had kicked out one of her daughters who had
wanted to marry the Damàã boy she was in love with: such a marriage that
is contrary to tradition might discredit her mother’s newly gained
reputation!
This was not the only example of the persistent biases and endogamy
the low castes still suffer from. In 2009, a high school Sàrkã student and a
Damàã girl, a former Màobàdã whole timer, who met at a Maoist rally, fell
in love. The “tailor” girl moved to the boy’s parents’ house where she was
not welcome. Since no religious ritual exists for an inter-caste union, it
was not possible to recognize their partnership as a valid, legitimate
marriage. Events took a more unpleasant turn when the Sàrkã clan
brotherhood (dàju-bhài samåha) decided to downgrade and expel the
entire family: among the Dalits as well as among the other communities,
civil and social death sanctions any disregard for endogamy. Torn
between his parents and the girl he loved, the Sàrkã boy vanished into thin
air, leaving the situation to sort itself out. Betrayed by her lover, alone in
a hostile village and family, the Damàã girl decided to face the situation.
As I explained above, when the Maoist guerilla left the district, the
Gà-Ja-Sa were officially dissolved even though the municipalities elected
in 1997 were not re-established. The VDC has been run by a consensus
between the local leaders of the coalition parties (Maoists, UML
Communists and Nepali Congress) monitored by the Maoist Party
headquarters in Diktel. So the girl decided to appeal to the judiciary
triumvirate (“tãndalãya nyàya”)17 of Temma in charge of settling disputes
and, in a moving display of words, asked the Maoist Party district
committee to enlighten the triumvirate and public opinion on the
arbitration to be rendered: “During the war, I almost died for you. I was
not afraid to fight. I want to find the one I love. I want to be accepted as
his wife.” By the miraculous act of the Màobàdãs’ omnipotence, a
mutually acceptable compromise was found. The fugitive boy who was
hiding in Kathmandu returned home and now lives with his wife in
another village, far from his parents. The clan brotherhood ostensibly
ignores the couple but the parents have been reintegrated into the clan.
Everybody was able to save their face thanks to this compromise, which
17
This “triumvirate” is an informal body of three members, all notables or
former elected officials from the 1990s, selected mainly amongst Rais and
Magars, each representing one of the three parties of the coalition, who are in
charge of the settlement of individual disputes based on a quasi-judicial form.
They assumed the burden and filled the void left by the former Gurkhas who
acted as umpires for decades in the villages.
Maoists and Dalits: A Case Study in a Locality in Eastern Nepal 345
fits in rather well with the atmosphere of that period of transition where
consensus is sought and conflicts of principles buried with oblivion, even
by the Maoists themselves.
Conclusion
The main conclusion to be drawn from this analysis is that the Dalit issue
has not developed at a similar pace and in the same terms and conditions
in Kathmandu or the bigger cities and in the remote mountains villages of
eastern Nepal. In the plain, where the issue regarding disadvantaged
castes presents its own specific features, the debate was launched early on
by the Dalit organizations which formulated the terms and proposed
solutions. In the upper valleys, the intense politicization of local society
which developed in the 1990s took shape in the furrow of preexisting
disputes between families or individuals of the Chamling Rai community
who competed for local influence. The voice of the Janajàti nationalist
movements was hardly heard in the villages before 2006. In this context,
since the Indo-Nepalese, and even more so the occupational castes among
them, had merely to position themselves in the wake of Rai (or Magar)
local political leaders in the VDC where they still held sway, castes and
ethnic issues were of secondary importance. This was even truer for the
Dalit question: because it has not been formulated by the party
immediately concerned, it has so far gone unnoticed by the other
communities. Seen in this light, the Maoist People’s war did not bring
politicization, but it gave an ideological content to preexisting divisions
by “importing” into the villages the debates and rhetoric that have shaken
urban intellectual circles for decades. The abruptness of the Maoists has
not always been the best way of changing villagers’ minds, and indeed
biases do remain, even though communities conceal them. However the
outlook has radically changed. Before 2001, nobody in the village cared
about the feelings of the untouchables, who were humiliated, unhappy and
thirsty for social recognition. Now the familiar topics debated in
Kathmandu, including the Dalit issue, are part of village political life.
However, though some words and concepts have been taken from the
rhetoric that ideologues cherish, the questions raised and the answers
given in local society differ from those urban intellectuals are familiar
with.
The untouchables turn out to be diverse and divided. The younger
generation is bold whereas the elders still fear backlash. All Dalits expect
and demand “equality” and the “end of discriminations,” but this claim
may conceal different realities. The more politicized youth stick to the
346 Pustak Ghimire
Maoist analysis: no right will be definitively acquired as long as the caste
system is not abolished and erased from mentalities. But few of them
fully embrace the scathing indictment of the “Brahmanist ideology,” and
more generally of Hinduism, since they have guessed that this kind of
rhetoric sometimes masks the hostility of indigenous people (Rais and
Magars especially) towards the very presence of the Indo-Nepalese
population as a whole in a country that the Kirantis regard as theirs. Since
they know they have little to gain if the Himalayan “tribal” people, who
have never spared them, have the upper hand in public life in eastern
Nepal, they are determined to work first for themselves. Moreover, it is
not clear whether a majority of Dalits genuinely share the revolutionary
vision of a casteless and classless society. As we have seen, for most
Dalits, endogamy, though an essential part of the caste system, remains a
basic social value. The few Dalits (mainly female), who choose to submit
to the purity obligations specific to the Brahmins, expect to receive in
return the consideration owed to the higher castes. In contrast to the
Maoists’ attempts to abolish the caste system, they seek internal and
individual promotion within it. It reveals an ongoing reference to Hindu
values which are theirs after all. And what the newly enriched
untouchables (a minority, though a significant one) aspire to is, of course,
an end to all the indignity, but overall a recognition of individual success
in the village hierarchy.
The other communities are divided on this new question which they
did not see coming. The religious conservatism of the Chamling Rais, of
which we gave many examples, should not be minimized. The Janajàti
nationalist rhetoric, which tries to revitalize “national” identities, conveys
a “back to the roots” religious revivalism associated with a flavour of
ethnic supremacism. Of course, the perspective of this revivalism is
essentially anti-Brahmanist, yet the promotion of Dalits is certainly not at
the core of ethnic organizations’ programs, though some tactical
convergences could have occurred under the Maoist Party umbrella.18
However, the influence of nationalist issues and language on the villages’
political life is recent and indirect, and they are often met with mixed
feelings by the Chamling Rais themselves: “One should not forget that all
18
I twice attended “Kirƒt Ràã Yàyokkhà” meetings, the first in Diktel in May
2007 and the second in Mahendranagar (Sunsari district) in March 2011. The
speakers focused on the defense of their history, language, tradition and
pilgrimages, and denounced “the atrocity of sacred thread bearer
(tàgàdhàrãharåko atyàcàr).” Not a single word was said about the Dalits who
seemingly must not expect better treatment than caste people.
Maoists and Dalits: A Case Study in a Locality in Eastern Nepal 347
the ethnicist political organizations hold an ethnocentric opinion, and they
don’t have the programs for those who are different from themselves. The
Kirƒt Ràã Yàyokkhà does not give a damn about the Dalits’ problems and
feelings” a Chamling Rai, former British Gurkha, admitted. But the fear
their ancestors inspire in the living Chamling Rais counts more in
explaining the reactions of those who were traumatized by the intrusions
of untouchables. However, their religious conservatism is teetering, as
suggested by the popularity of Hindu heterodoxy among them. As for the
Magars, since many suffer poor socio-economic conditions, they do not
look kindly upon the claims made by the Dalits which, should they be
satisfied, would place them at the bottom of the social ladder. The attitude
of the Brahmins-Chhetris is undoubtedly the most complex. On the one
hand, they are no less prejudiced than the others and they do not regard
the caste hierarchy as a meritocracy. On the other hand, since village
Hindu tradition is just as much social conformism as a matter of faith,
they can relax and retain their pragmatism until their neighbors decide the
contrary. A smart and smiley Chhetri was not afraid to say: “We should
not rush things. My neighbors are Sàrkã. Give us a bit more time. You
will see, we will end up inviting them.”
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