{"id":176252,"date":"2021-01-04T12:00:15","date_gmt":"2021-01-04T12:00:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/?p=176252"},"modified":"2021-01-04T05:22:36","modified_gmt":"2021-01-04T05:22:36","slug":"the-dalit-and-the-brahmin","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/2021\/01\/the-dalit-and-the-brahmin\/","title":{"rendered":"The Dalit and the Brahmin"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>\u201cI hear the lower castes are finding this lack of monsoons rather difficult for their crops,\u201d droned Aashka\u2019s father at their lavish supper (as usual), in the midst of her father\u2019s normal dull conversing with the other Brahmins.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The table was long and elegant and filled every night with rich Brahmins, such as Aashka\u2019s family.\u00a0 Most of them were reserved old men, who hardly spoke to Aashka save for reprimanding her that if she kept up her unladylike behavior she’d surely be reincarnated as a stick bug.\u00a0 Some women were present of course; their faces drawn and lifeless as if no thoughts swam behind their dark eyes and extravagant cosmetics.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have heard this as well,\u201d said Priest Sadiva, a burly old man at the end of the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s as if they have no idea where to find the food that does<\/strong> exist, for looking at this table, it obviously is present if you know where to look.\u201d\u00a0 He chuckled at his own joke.<\/p>\n

\u201cDalits, Shudras and Vaishyas are being buried by the cartload.\u201d said Priest Safal, a sour man who Aashka always avoided.\u00a0\u201cBut they wouldn\u2019t have achieved Moksha anyhow; they led lives of great disregard for Brahman, the force that brings us all together.\u201d<\/p>\n

Aashka felt a familiar itchy heat rising inside her, as if somewhere inside her, a caged starling was struggling to escape.\u00a0 You didn\u2019t achieve Moksha in your past life either<\/em>, she thought to herself.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s unfair, Priest Safal, that really is!\u201d she finally blurted. \u201cThey are not trying to starve, and they are decent people, just like any of us.\u201d<\/p>\n

Aashka looked around the table, as everyone looked sharply up at her.\u00a0 The women gasped.<\/p>\n

If I\u2019m referring to this lot, I\u2019m not sure the phrase \u2018Decent like you’ ‘is very effective<\/em>, a little voice in the back of her brain piped up.<\/p>\n

\u201cAashka,\u201d said her father harshly. \u201cWe have not worked hard in our past lives, studying our faith, to achieve Karma like this, to become the religious leaders to our people and compliment those who are below us.\u201d<\/p>\n

Priest Safal\u2019s wife spoke up. \u201cSahistha,\u201d she said, speaking to Aashka\u2019s father. \u201cChildren should \u00a0be seen and not heard. I am afraid your daughter has no hope of ever achieving Moksha, letting her soul be liberated with Brahman.\u00a0 She has a complete disregard for Atman.\u201d<\/p>\n

That\u2019s more words than she\u2019s spoken all year<\/em>, thought Aashka.\u00a0 Then she noticed her stepmother staring at her with a look of cold resentment and embarrassment plastered to her face.\u00a0 Aashka\u2019s real mother had become ill and passed away just over two years previously, the day before Aashka\u2019s eleventh birthday.\u00a0 Her father had married again last spring, and Aashka hated him for it.\u00a0 Her mother had been the nicest thing about her life.<\/p>\n

\u201cServant, please escort Aashka from the table. Thank you. May Brahma bless you.\u201d said Aashka\u2019s father stiffly, with a note of restrained fury in his voice.<\/p>\n

The following morning, Aashka woke to find all the other Brahmins gone, and her father praying.\u00a0 Aashka found her step-mother at the dining room table, being served breakfast by an ungainly young man who kept stumbling, apparently over his own feet.\u00a0 Without acknowledging the presence of Aashka, her step-mother nibbled away slowly at her meal.\u00a0 The young man served Aashka Aloo Paratha (flatbread stuffed with potato) and shuffled back towards the kitchen, tripping on his way out.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with him?\u201d asked Aashka.<\/p>\n

\u201cAashka!\u201d scolded her step-mother, her eyes widening into her signature \u201cyou\u2019re-on-thin-ice\u201d look.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry,\u201d said Aashka, \u201cOnly, why\u2019d he keep falling over himself?\u201d<\/p>\n

Aashka\u2019s stepmother looked over her shoulder to make sure they were alone.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe stupid boy,\u201d she drawled, \u201cis new on the job and very nervous.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe should give him some food.\u201d<\/p>\n

Aashka\u2019s stepmother did a double take. \u201cWhatever for?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPriest Safal said people of lower castes are being buried by the cartload. And he looks very thin. I\u2019m worried,\u201d said Aashka.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not for us to mingle with Shudras.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know, I know. \u00a0Anyway, may I go out?\u00a0 I must…must pray at the temple for Brahma to forgive me for my er…rudeness last night.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVery well.\u201d Aashka\u2019s step-mother went back to her eating with a somber face.\u00a0 \u201cAnd you\u2019ll go again later as well.\u00a0 You have a lot of apologizing to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

Aashka set out to town with half her Aloo Paratha still in her pocket.\u00a0 She ran briskly, but kept her face down, hoping nobody would recognize a Brahmin girl running in such a rushed and improper fashion.\u00a0 Aashka was not going to pray near the cattle.<\/p>\n

The streets were more crowded than usual, as Aashka neared the poorer side of town.\u00a0 Shudras were holding bowls out, begging for just a bit of rice.\u00a0 Dalits were lurking in the shadows, eyes full of what they knew to be unrealistic longing.\u00a0 Aashka put her hand over the warm flatbread in her pocket, tempted to stop right there and give it to the first person who asked.<\/p>\n

No<\/em>, she told herself. You know someone who needs this badly.<\/em><\/p>\n

She was beginning to stick out like a sore thumb, and she knew it.\u00a0 Her clothes were too luxurious to be a member of the lower castes.\u00a0 People turned to stare at her, shocked that she was still healthy and well-fed-looking.\u00a0 For most people around here had been getting very thin lately, scarily thin. Dalit boys trudged past with their ribs sticking out like knives.\u00a0 Girls brushed by with legs jutting out under dresses that were so thin it almost looked like they were floating.<\/p>\n

You\u2019re almost there,<\/em> Aashka told herself, \u00a0please don\u2019t get all wish-washy.<\/em><\/p>\n

For Aashka was what her Mama had called a \u201cmirror-girl.\u201d\u00a0 Anytime Aashka saw other people feeling sad, she would feel almost as bad as them.\u00a0 Right now, there were a lot of starving, disconsolate people out, and Aashka felt it was almost too much for her as she plowed on.<\/p>\n

She finally reached her destination, a tiny hut at the end of the street, and pushed inside.\u00a0 A baby was crying in the corner, a woman rocked her back and forth in her thin arms.\u00a0 A boy stood at the door, relieved at Aashka\u2019s appearance.\u00a0 The boy was Agavoli.<\/p>\n

Agavoli was Aashka\u2019s best friend.\u00a0 \u201cWhat was your excuse, this time?\u201d asked Agavoli, with an amused light in his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI told my stepmother I was praying at the temple, praying to Brahma to forgive me for my dreadful <\/em>sins.\u00a0 She ate it up like a kitten to cream,\u201d Aashka smirked.<\/p>\n

Again, Agavoli\u2019s eyes lit up, as if a candle burned within them. \u00a0Agavoli never laughed.\u00a0 You had to know him well to figure out that this was his method of doing so.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat would you do if she found out? \u00a0Or your father, if he found out?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want to think about it.\u201d said Aashka, shaking her head.<\/p>\n

Agavoli\u2019s mother, Mrs. Tanwar, bustled over, with Diya, the baby girl of the family, in her arms.\u00a0 \u201cOh hello, Aashka dear, so good to see your face during this terrible famine,\u201d she crooned.<\/p>\n

Diya let out a gurgly laugh, sucking her thumb.<\/p>\n

\u201cMama!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Diya, I\u2019m Mama.\u00a0 Good!\u201d said Mrs. Tanwar with a weary smile.<\/p>\n

Aashka thought back to the day she met Agavoli\u2019s family. \u00a0Her mother had died that morning, forehead blazing, whispering to Aashka, \u201cContinue what I started, dear.\u201d\u00a0 Aashka had begun to weep long and hard, her body convulsing, making more noise than she ever had.\u00a0 Then she noticed her father, sitting stiffly, not even crying, just shaking his head back and forth, back and forth.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou monster!\u201d she had cried. \u201cDon\u2019t you even feel? \u00a0Well, don\u2019t you!?!?\u201d<\/p>\n

And she had ran out, ran, ran, ran until she stumbled into Agavoli, at the time a complete stranger, who had been running in the opposite direction, crying. \u00a0Aashka could tell he was a Dalit from the way he was dressed, but against all she\u2019d been taught, she did not back away.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s happened to you<\/strong>?\u201d she asked timidly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s happened to you<\/strong>?\u201d Agavoli had countered.<\/p>\n

Then Aashka had found out that Agavoli\u2019s father had just died, the same as her mother.<\/p>\n

\u201cAashka! Aashka?\u201d<\/p>\n

It was Agavoli.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yes, sorry.\u201d said Aashka, coming back to the present.\u00a0 \u201cI have brought you some food.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOoh!\u201d said Agavoli gleefully, \u201cWhat is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAgavoli! Manners!\u201d scolded his mother while Aashka simultaneously pulled out her offering and said, \u201cAloo Paratha.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry mother,\u201d said Agavoli, but in a sidetone to Aashka, \u201cMay I have it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Aashka handed him the flatbread, and with a look of someone who was rather tempted to disobey, handed it to his mother to be evenly divided.<\/p>\n

\u201cEat up,\u201d said his mother, \u201cI\u2019ve got to go now clean the farm stalls out down the street.\u201d<\/p>\n

An hour later found Aashka running up her mansion\u2019s steps, breathing hard but trying to look pulled together, as if she\u2019d just come back from praying, not giving food to her Dalit friends.<\/p>\n

But when she got in, her father and step-mother were in an uproar.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou-you…you!\u201d screamed her step-mother in an unbound fashion miraculously out of character.\u00a0 (Aashka might have even laughed at it if not for the confusion seeping through her, like a thick fog.)<\/p>\n

\u201cNever!\u201d wheezed her father madly, \u201cNever will I let you out of my sight again!\u00a0 Terrible…my reputation…no daughter of mine…\u201d \u00a0And with that, he collapsed into a chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s going on?!\u201d cried Aashka, alarmed.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh I think you know what\u2019s going on well enough!\u201d shouted her step-mother hoarsely, \u201cPriest Safal saw you conversing with a Dalit boy<\/em>, that\u2019s what\u2019s going on!\u201d<\/p>\n

Oh no.\u00a0 <\/strong>They\u2019d seen her with Agavoli.\u00a0 Everything was ruined.\u00a0 His family would starve without her help.\u00a0 Oh<\/strong> no!<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cW-why was Priest Safal over there?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPriest Safal was preaching to a group of dirty Shudras, that\u2019s why!\u201d<\/p>\n

Suddenly, Aashka\u2019s father stood up, and grabbed Aashka by the scruff of her neck.\u00a0 Aashka saw his strong sturdy hand, flying through the air towards her face, saw her step-mother hastily disguising a look of surprise.<\/p>\n

SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

One Week Later<\/h3>\n

Priest Safal asked, \u201cMore deaths by starvation?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh yes, and the latest is a baby girl,\u201d said Aashka\u2019s father, as he rolled his eyes.\u00a0 Lately, he had been getting preaching jobs with the lower castes, teaching them the paths to Moksha, which he thought to be a grand waste of time with \u201cpeople like them.\u201d\u00a0 Aashka was always being dragged along lately, since she had lost her father\u2019s trust.<\/p>\n

\u201cKnowledge \u2013 Having a true understanding of all Hindu concepts.\u00a0 Work \u2013 Doing things that are good for your community.\u00a0 Devotion \u2013 Spending your entire life loving Brahma,\u201d she would hear her father say in his deep, leader voice again and again.<\/p>\n

But at the mention of a dead baby girl, her ears pricked up with worry.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the baby’s name?\u201d she piped up.<\/p>\n

Her father looked at her warningly.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust some worthless Dalit girl named Diya Tanwar.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDiya Tanwar?\u00a0 DIWA TANWAR?!!?\u201d Aashka cried, filling with dread.<\/p>\n

Aashka\u2019s father began to turn purple. \u201cI\u2019m afraid you\u2019ll have to excuse us Priest Safal.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man waddled away, and then Aashka\u2019s father looked down at her, murderously.<\/p>\n

\u201cAND DOES SHE MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU!?\u201d<\/p>\n

Aashka hesitated.\u00a0 Agavoli\u2019s sister was dead. \u00a0Agavoli\u2019 sister was dead.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cActually,\u201d she said, as a lump rose in her throat. \u00a0Don\u2019t cry<\/em>, she told herself. \u00a0Don\u2019t you dare.<\/em>\u00a0 \u201cYes she does! She is-was…my best friend’s sister!\u201d<\/p>\n

Aashka\u2019s father looked simply livid. \u00a0Aashka\u2019s hand flew to the bruises on her face.<\/p>\n

\u201cHAVE I NOT TOLD YOU NOT TO MENTION THAT BOY?!\u201d he roared.<\/p>\n

\u201cI-I wish I was a Dalit too!\u201d<\/p>\n

Aashka\u2019s father went silent. She was reminded strongly of a bomb about to explode.<\/p>\n

Aashka looked timidly at her father\u2019s big hands, scared to show her true feelings.<\/p>\n

Gogetoutdon\u2019targuejustGETOUT<\/em>, she told herself.<\/p>\n

And she turned on her heels and dashed away to Agavoli.<\/p>\n

Six Months Later<\/h3>\n

Aashka walked with Agavoli to an empty field.\u00a0 No sign on it read \u201cgraveyard,\u201d but the two of them knew very well that this was where all Dalits were buried.<\/p>\n

Agavoli scattered some wildflowers over the meadow and the two of them were silent for a minute as they…remembered.<\/p>\n

After Diya died, Aashka\u2019s father had it.\u00a0 He had sent Aashka out onto the streets with a big basket of food to fend for herself and make sure to not forget \u2018Atman,\u2019 the spiritual component of the universe. \u00a0Aashka had felt sad at first, which surprised her, but she had known what to do, of course.\u00a0 She had gone to the Tanwar\u2019s and mourned with them; then they had gotten busy. Traded tears for dried meat to preserve on the walls. Traded sadness for rice. Traded remembrances for cheese that would keep for months. Traded emotions for potatoes.<\/p>\n

And nobody seemed to remember Aashka the Brahmin anymore. Upper castes eyes slid from Agavoli to her, disgusted expressions never changing.\u00a0 Aashka was fine with that.<\/p>\n

She prayed every day, whispering to Brahma<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease believe that I am the good person I claim to be.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

And that was enough for her.<\/p>\n

______________________________________________________-<\/p>\n

Sophie Michel is a 12-year-old writer with a social conscience from the U.S.A.<\/em><\/p>\n

Submitted by TR member Edward Curtin, Sophie’s uncle.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

“For Aashka was what her Mama had called a \u201cmirror-girl.\u201d Anytime Aashka saw other people feeling sad, she would feel almost as bad as them. Right now, there were a lot of starving, disconsolate people out, and Aashka felt it was almost too much for her as she plowed on.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":154557,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[208],"tags":[642],"class_list":["post-176252","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-literature","tag-literature"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/176252","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=176252"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/176252\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/154557"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=176252"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=176252"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=176252"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}