In Parbhani: a shahir sings for freedom and dignity

Venue: any village in Maharashtra.

Event: Ambedkar Jayanti or Annabhau Sathe Jayanti

A shahir appears on the stage and speaks to a crowd in front, men and women, young and old from Dalit communities.

“Gavat aala tar ghar naahi, Shivaaraat gelo tar shet naahi.
Are kon karnaar amacha vaakada?
[No house in the village, no field in my name,
what do I have to lose?]”

With this defiant question, Gangadhar Pol begins to sing:

"Are petun uthu dya ki desh saara, tyaat jalel aamchahi ek zopada!
[Let the entire country burn. We too will lose our hut to flames].”

The Marathi words rhyme and the crowd turns attentive. Gangadhar performs through the night.

Shahiri is a poetic form that celebrates the courage of kings and their armies in many historical events and conquests. The people of Maharashtra take pride in this. But the one performed by Gangadhar Pol and other singers in Ambedkari jalsas is different. These shahirs do not sing about the days gone by, they talk about the present, laying bare the arrogance and the arrogant. Their words inspire and motivate the oppressed to hold their heads high.

Gangadhar Pol was born in Durdi, in Parbhani district of Marathwada. “In our village, half the households are of Marathas, most others belong to Dhangars. Then comes the Bauddhawada, [settlement of Dalits, ex-untouchables, mostly Mahar] and Mang families. We have only two Kaikadi families,” Gangadhar says, describing the composition of his village of a thousand.

Just 10 kilometres from the district headquarters, it is still not connected by any state transport bus. The health centre is in the neighbouring village. A primary school is the only government structure in Durdi.

“It is close to Parbhani, a city, but people and their ways are still governed by the old times,” Gangadhar says. “There is only one temple of Marutiraya [Hanuman] in the village. Every year the village has the saptah [a week of reciting abhang and writings of saints] where they read Dnyaneshwari [Saint Dnyaneshwar’s Marathi commentary on the Bhagvad Geeta] and organise keertan…with loud speakers and all.”

And yet, he reminds us, “till date, none of the Mahar, Mang, Kaikadi people of the village have entered the gabhara [sanctum sanctorum] of the temple.”

Gangadhar was never impressed with the bhajan-keertan in the temple. “They make tall claims in their bhajan [about equality/humanity] but in the culmination feast, it is Marathas and Dhangars who eat first. Dalits only last in the line,” Gangadhar says.

“Till recent times [2024], we did not have any crematorium where Mang-Mahar-Kaikadis can cremate their dead.” One can see a newly constructed crematorium lying unused. “Durdi follows the old ways which dictate each caste to cremate its dead based on their place on the caste ladder. So, how can one cremate a Dalit and a Savarna in the same crematorium?”

Gangadhar’s father Kashinath was a potraj. “Kashinath Mang lay raggil [My father was known for his temper].” A potraj serves the Mari-aay. An epidemic of gastro or cholera was considered as Mari-aay’s curse. “My father would beg for alms in the village and do a ‘kaaran’, local ritual to appease the deity.”

Kaaran is observed mostly among potraj community in Marathwada, In the month of Ashhadh (June) they beg for alms, buy a male buffalo and sacrifice it to the deity. The meat is distributed to the Mangs. People believe that ‘kaaran’ prevents the epidemic. This cannot take place without a potraj. So, Gangadhar’s father held that special power.

But it was short-lived, limited to a few customs and rituals. It did bring some alms but not enough food on the plate. “My father had four siblings and us, eight children. So, he and his siblings would steal from the neighbouring villages. And what did they steal? Ready to harvest jowar. The villagers were terrified of Mangs and said, ‘they come in the night and the entire standing crop is gone’,” Gangadhar recalls the time around 1980. He was around 10 years old.

“My mother, Salubai, worked in some savarna houses. I often followed her,” Gangadhar shares. “Every year, two or three times she and a few women would do this. After sweeping and cleaning the cowshed, the entire house, and the courtyard, they used to plaster the mud floor with cow dung. The woman owner of the house would then keep a pot full of cooked dal or besan in front of them. She would toss 10-15 bhakris that my mother would catch in her saree. The house owner made sure never to touch her when she gave those bhakris."

Under balutedari system – a caste-based system where each caste was assigned its role and labour, this was mangki – work expected of the Mang community. Along with this they also made bamboo brooms, kangi and durdi – grain storage bins and baskets in exchange of grain and food.

Later Gangadhar’s father started brewing liquor which brought some money. “One day the police came and arrested him for selling country liquor. They forced him to cut his long hair – customary for a potraj to keep. And they offered him a job of a kotwal to stop his liquor making.”

Around late '70s and '80s the balutedari system had started giving way to new structures. Kotwal was one such example. In a sense he was a village servant. In balutedari, Mahars and Mangs served the entire village. The kotwal was paid a small sum and became a link worker between the government and the villagers. One can call him a servant appointed by the state. Gangadhar’s father got this post and along with it, some status. ‘Climbing a step up’ he put his children into school.

All children – Gangadhar, his elder brother and five sisters – started school. The girls studied upto Class 3 or 4. But the boys reached Class 10. They rejected the caste burdens of mangki and chose a new path. His brother became a kotwal in place of his father. Gangadhar did not have any job or other work. He did wage labour and in his spare time, he started singing Bheem geet – songs revering Ambedkar’s life and work.

Gangadhar was always fond of singing and this, he believes came to him from his mother and sisters. All of them worshipped different deities and followed many rituals including fasting on different days for different deities. In fact, most women, by fasting saved on food. “My mother and sisters were followers of one Gosawi, an ascetic from Jintur [a town 50 kilometres from Parbhani]. He wandered to different places with his disciples. He was Mahar by birth, did not convert to Buddhism. They kept fast for Dhurpada maay on Sunday, for Mahadev on Monday and for Krushna on Wednesday.”

Each day of fast had a special song and that Gosawi had taught many. Gangadhar still remembers Kaushalya, his sister, singing:

Gangadhar in his childhood, may not have understood the meaning of the song, but for him, it remains one of his mother and sister’s favourites.

Apart from these devotional songs, there were new tunes and words that came from Bauddhawada across the road. The road divided Mangwada with its old ways and customs and Bauddhawada, with new ways life and thought. “Bauddhawada had 17-18 families. About three or four among them had got some farmland under the Land Ceiling Act. Another three to four had at least one person migrating to city for work. One had joined the army and the other one was in the railways. Another worked with the irrigation department. These white-collared Nav-bauddha people visited our village occasionally. And with them came, new ways of living and thinking outside the rigid caste structure of the village,” says Gangadhar.

In the '80s, when Dalit poets created a special place for their writing in Marathi literature, in villages many unnamed and unknown shahirs wrote songs about Ambedkar that nurtured the Dalit psyche. Ambedkar inspired many Nav-bauddhas to create a different cultural identity for themselves. People started organizing Bheem geet performances at weddings, naming ceremonies, gatherings of married women and even after a death in the family. This wind of change entered Durdi, too.

Young men in the Bauddhawada had formed a ‘Bhajani Mandal’ – a bhajan singing group which sang only Bheem geet. “So, Hari-keertan in the Marutiraya temple and Bheem geet in Bauddhawada. Both at the same time,” Gangadhar recalls.

The ‘Ambedkari bhajans’, their words and meanings were very different from the bhajans sung by Gangadhar’s sisters. The traditional ones were fatalistic but the songs from Bauddhawada encouraged one to act. Gangadhar was in his teens when he was first attracted to Bheem geet. He is not sure if he understood this or if he was simply impressed by the rhythm of life in them.

Young Gangadhar spent many nights in Bauddhawada engrossed by ‘Ambedkari bhajans’. “Women in villages are too watchful of their children as they feared ghosts. Most of them often forced their young ones to sleep early and not leave the house after dark. My mother never stopped me,” says Gangadhar. “And no ghosts got me. Ambedkar ani Annabhau Sathe matra mangutivar basale majhya. [It was Ambedkar and Annabhau Sathe who possessed me],” he laughs.

“During those days, Abasaheb and Maruti Wavhale and Rohidas Savale performed many new songs,” he says. “Bheem geet by Yashwant Lokhande, Datta and Vishnu Shinde were very popular in Parbhani. I loved those.”

Gangadhar always loved the rhythm. In school, he never missed a beat while singing poetry. The teachers always made him sing. He still remembers those poems from school. "टपटप पडती अंगावरती प्राजक्ताची फुले, भिरभिर भिरभिर त्या तालावर गाणे आमुचे जुळे. [The flowers of Parijat flowers drop tuptup, tuptup on my body, and bhirbhir bhirbhir we sing to its beats.]"

The poems in the school and Bheem geet in the village came from different worlds – imagery and emotions. He liked to sing both, the Bheem geet more. The Nav-bauddha community in Maharashtra regularly visits the site to remember the conversion to Buddhism. Gangadhar, a Mang by birth, never converted to Buddhism. He started visiting Chaityabhoomi around late '80s. What attracted him was the transformative power of Bheem geet. He would buy many books of songs written by known and unknown poets and perform the songs later. These influenced Gangadhar’s mind and thinking.

In Parbhani, there were many newly formed Ambedkari bhajan parties or troupes. Durdi had one, too. A few young men collected money and bought one dholki and a harmonium. Gangadhar, in Class 10, was the star singer. He appeared for the exam but failed in English. That was the end of his schooling, in 1987. That was 30 years since Ambedkar’s death in 1956.

While Gangadhar dropped out of school there were many from at least two generations of Dalits in those 30 years who completed school and entered government service. Ambedkar Jayanti became a new festival, celebrated by Dalits who had rejected the balutedari system and its caste-based occupations.

“April 14 was a grand event celebrating Dr. Ambedkar’s birth, his Jayanti. Many renowned shahirs would come and perform,” Gangadhar tells. “And the new entrants like me would travel for two weeks after the Jayanti to perform Bheem geet in surrounding villages and hamlets.”

“We started one gayan party [a singing troupe] with four or five of us. We used to walk or ride on a cycle to the villages. Every day from 14 to 30 April, we performed in a new village and a new Dalit vasti.” The performance would commence at 9 p.m. and ended only with sunrise.

People lived in extreme poverty. How much could they pay us? “For us shahirs, a garland and a coconut was a lot. If someone liked our song, its words, they would gift us a rupee or two. We used to collect 100-150 rupees and share it among the five of us.” None of them owned a bicycle so half the money went for rent.

In Dalit vastis, people gave money for Jayanti. A rally with Ambedkar’s photo would travel through the village and culminate in a community feast open for all. But only Dalits from the village and their guests ate at the feast. No one else from the village joined the celebrations.

Singing Bheem geet in villages taking pride in caste honour was not an easy thing to do. Around 1978, things were particularly difficult. The Maharashtra State Assembly had passed a resolution to rename the Marathwada University after Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar leading to violent clashes between savarna and Dalit communities across the region. Many young Dalit men like Gautam Waghmare and Pochiram Kamble were killed in the gruesome conflict. In this period of violence and oppression, the shahirs and their performances were a solid support for Dalits.

“We were performing in Kekar Jawla, a village in Manwath taluka [of Parbhani district]. I was singing shahir Yashwant Lokhande’s song,” Gangadhar says. “One local leader came and complained, ‘We are unable to sleep. Stop the singing’. The elders in the vasti agreed but the youngsters were not happy. They whispered, ‘They sing bhajans through the night. That never disturbs their sleep, is it?’.” This led to some commotion. Finally, it was decided that the speakers will be off but the performance will continue. And it did all through the night. “Listening to our songs, the young men would get furious [at the atrocities] but that rage was never destructive. Our songs offered them space to vent.”

Shahir Gangadhar Pol soon became a popular name. The renowned Ambedkari Shahir, Yashwant Lokhande praised him and called him up on stage and gave him an opportunity to sing at the Jayanti event in Parbhani. And soon his singing and songs found its space in people’s hearts.

In the gayan parties, most singers and shahirs were Nav-bauddha. The programmes were held mostly in Bauddha vastis, not in other Dalit areas. For Gangadhar, not being Mahar or Nav-bauddha was never a hindrance. His shahiri made a place for him in these programmes.

Over time, many forces tried to divide the Dalit unity and create conflict between Mahar and other castes such as Mang, also called Matang. Claiming that Nav-bauddhas benefited the most in the Scheduled Caste category Babasaheb Gopale from Parbhani started mobilising the Matang community.

His group organised many caste gatherings. Gopale got Gangadhar to perform at these events. The Matang community proudly celebrates Annabhau Sathe as its own thinker, writer and shahir. His name became their identity. Similarly, Gangadhar too had a chance to create such a space for him. Did he choose that or continue to sing for Dalit unity with no caste barriers?

That’s another story…