Sati and macho trash

Just finished reading Mark Tully’s book ‘No Full Stops in India’. The fellow seems to be literally another Naipaul. Saying things like caste is some kind of a kinship unit, and a succor-provider. Ha, Ha Mark — wish you were born here. Well, and through the entire reading I had to bear his calling the Dalits as Harijans. Oof, that hurts doesn’t it. Anyway, I was happy that he did indeed feel like writing five pages for Dalit Christians, that made me feel better. Because the way it is, the mainstream Dalit movement, doesn’t devote itself to the cause of Dalit Christians. But forget Dalit Christians, even Dalit Women are side-tracked by the movement. And anyone out there knows what the Dalit Christians are called by the high-caste Christians? They are called Milk-powder Christians. It is a shame really that these people tout themselves to be followers of Christ. One of these day’s I plan to write something on these Dalit Christians. A long short-story. Or a short novel. With plenty of hazy references to the Bible. To faith. To love. To equality. And above all, to revolution. May be, I will write it. Or may be, it is going to be like all those projects of mine, abandoned once I realize their futility.

In Tully’s book there was a mention of AICUF (All India Catholic University Federation) and that pleased me, because the place is like a second home to me. There was a mention of Fr. Manuel Alphonse and someone called Paul Paneerselvam. Funny isn’t it? I have never heard or seen anything about Paul Paneerselvam even though I live in the same city as him. He wouldn’t have heard of me too. I am not sure about the second part, because so many Dalits are knowing so much about me and the magazine, I feel he would have at least seen the mag. Hey, sorry for talking round and round, I am back to Tully’s book.

There was this interesting chapter on Roop Kanwar’s Sati. I must have been just a toddler when she died. I will prefer to say murdered. Now, I am nearly 17, the age Roop Kanwar was when she was burnt alive on her husband’s pyre. And to capitalize on her murder, there are these Hindu fundamentalists, who go around saying that Sati is a religious practice and that it is a splendid and glorious affirmation of the virtuous wife’s enduring love for her husband. (And there has not been a single husband who has had this kind of enduring love for his wife that he decided to become a male-sati. And the question is Why Not?). It was so sick reading the whole affair of it (I had read it in several places earlier yet what is horrific continues to be horrific even if read hundred years later). What I really hated worse than the affair, was the statement at the end of the chapter, where Tully reports the villagers as saying that the feminists used this incident for publicizing themselves. Macho trash.

Sorry dears, for having gone so much into detail. Well today has been a leisurely day, and I want to be as calm as possible for as long as possible. I mean this because in one or two days, there is going to be a flurry of activity with the journal and it is by no means an easy task. Even today, I will have to write some 10 letters at least and send so many reminders. There is one letter I *must* post to Cochin.

I am back to work. And my sis will be back from school in 15 more minutes!