चाण्डालश्च वराहश्च कुक्कुटः श्वा तथैव च ।
रजस्वला च षण्ढश्च नैक्षेरन्नश्नतो द्विजान् ॥

A Chandāla, a village pig, a rooster, a dog,
a menstruating woman and a eunuch must not look at the twice-borns while they eat.

— Manusmriti 3.239

Not just a furtive glance, this nine-year-old boy's sin was far more audacious. Indra Kumar Meghwal, a Class 3 student, simply failed to contain his thirst. He, a Dalit boy, drank from a pitcher kept aside for upper caste teachers.

Punishment was due. He was beaten, mercilessly, by Chail Singh – his 40-year-old upper caste teacher at the Saraswati Vidya Mandir in Rajasthan’s Surana village.

After 25 days, and after visiting 7 hospitals to seek help, on the eve of India’s Independence Day, the little boy from Jalore district breathed his last in Ahmedabad city.

Listen to Pratishtha Pandya read the poem

Worms in a jar

Once upon a time
there was a pitcher in a school.
The teacher was a demigod,
three bags full –
one for a Brahmin ,
one for a king,
and one for a penny that Dalits they bring.

Once upon a neverland
twice upon a time,
the pitcher taught a little kid –
“Thirst is a crime.
Thy teacher is a twice-born,
life is a scar,
and thou art a worm, lad,
kept in a jar.”

This jar had a quaint name: sanatani desh,
“Your skin is a sin,
kiddo, damned is your race.”
Yet with a paper tongue
drier than a dune,
he drank a li’l drop of the wet mehroon.

Alas!
the thirst was too much to bear,
didn't the books say: “give, love and share”?
Out spread his fingers brave,
touched the pitcher cold,
The teacher was a demigod,
And he, a nine-year-old.

With a punch and a kick
and a well-placed stick,
the boy was tamed,
with a rage unnamed.
The demigod laughed like a sweet limerick.

Bruises on the left eye,
maggots in the right,
black were the lips
to the teacher's delight.
His thirst was sacred, his creed was pure,
his heart is a hole
where death endures.

With a sigh and a ‘why’
and hatred high,
the thirst was named,
in wrath untamed.
The blackboard moaned like a graveyard fly.

Once upon a time
there was a corpse in a school,
Yes sir! Yes sir! Three drops full!
one for a mandir,
one for a crown,
one for a pitcher where Dalits they drown.

Poem and Text : Joshua Bodhinetra

ಜೋಶುವಾ ಬೋಧಿನೇತ್ರ ಅವರು ಪೀಪಲ್ಸ್ ಆರ್ಕೈವ್ ಆಫ್ ರೂರಲ್ ಇಂಡಿಯಾ (ಪರಿ) ಯ ಭಾರತೀಯ ಭಾಷೆಗಳ ಕಾರ್ಯಕ್ರಮವಾದ ಪರಿಭಾಷಾ ವಿಷಯ ವ್ಯವಸ್ಥಾಪಕರು. ಅವರು ಕೋಲ್ಕತ್ತಾದ ಜಾದವಪುರ ವಿಶ್ವವಿದ್ಯಾಲಯದಿಂದ ತುಲನಾತ್ಮಕ ಸಾಹಿತ್ಯದಲ್ಲಿ ಎಂಫಿಲ್ ಪಡೆದಿದ್ದಾರೆ ಮತ್ತು ಬಹುಭಾಷಾ ಕವಿ, ಅನುವಾದಕ, ಕಲಾ ವಿಮರ್ಶಕ ಮತ್ತು ಸಾಮಾಜಿಕ ಕಾರ್ಯಕರ್ತರೂ ಹೌದು.

Other stories by Joshua Bodhinetra
Illustration : Labani Jangi

ಲಬಾನಿ ಜಂಗಿ 2020ರ ಪರಿ ಫೆಲೋ ಆಗಿದ್ದು, ಅವರು ಪಶ್ಚಿಮ ಬಂಗಾಳದ ನಾಡಿಯಾ ಜಿಲ್ಲೆ ಮೂಲದ ಅಭಿಜಾತ ಚಿತ್ರಕಲಾವಿದರು. ಅವರು ಕೋಲ್ಕತ್ತಾದ ಸಾಮಾಜಿಕ ವಿಜ್ಞಾನಗಳ ಅಧ್ಯಯನ ಕೇಂದ್ರದಲ್ಲಿ ಕಾರ್ಮಿಕ ವಲಸೆಯ ಕುರಿತು ಸಂಶೋಧನಾ ಅಧ್ಯಯನ ಮಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದಾರೆ.

Other stories by Labani Jangi
Editor : Pratishtha Pandya

ಪ್ರತಿಷ್ಠಾ ಪಾಂಡ್ಯ ಅವರು ಪರಿಯ ಹಿರಿಯ ಸಂಪಾದಕರು, ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಅವರು ಪರಿಯ ಸೃಜನಶೀಲ ಬರವಣಿಗೆ ವಿಭಾಗವನ್ನು ಮುನ್ನಡೆಸುತ್ತಾರೆ. ಅವರು ಪರಿಭಾಷಾ ತಂಡದ ಸದಸ್ಯರೂ ಹೌದು ಮತ್ತು ಗುಜರಾತಿ ಭಾಷೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಲೇಖನಗಳನ್ನು ಅನುವಾದಿಸುತ್ತಾರೆ ಮತ್ತು ಸಂಪಾದಿಸುತ್ತಾರೆ. ಪ್ರತಿಷ್ಠಾ ಗುಜರಾತಿ ಮತ್ತು ಇಂಗ್ಲಿಷ್ ಭಾಷೆಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಕೆಲಸ ಮಾಡುವ ಕವಿಯಾಗಿಯೂ ಗುರುತಿಸಿಕೊಂಡಿದ್ದು ಅವರ ಹಲವು ಕವಿತೆಗಳು ಮಾಧ್ಯಮಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಪ್ರಕಟವಾಗಿವೆ.

Other stories by Pratishtha Pandya