The Blurb of “Edege Bidda Akshara” translated to English by Susan Daniel
[The Blurb of “Edege Bidda Akshara” translated to English by Susan Daniel…ಸೂಸಾನ್ ಡೇನಿಯಲ್ ಅವರು ಅನುವಾದಿಸಿರುವ ”ಎದೆಗೆ ಬಿದ್ದ ಅಕ್ಷರ”ದ ಬೆನ್ನುಡಿಯ ಬರಹ…]
The Heart of Learning
The seed that falls to the ground
The heart that learns
One day or the other
Will bear fruit
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Abject poverty and shame is the lot of the Untouchable. If social cultural mobility can be seen as poverty that has sprouted feathers and wings, the poverty of Dalits and Backward groups is that of being plucked and robbed of feathers, and left to crawl. This being so – those who see economic backwardness as a yardstick for reservations- don’t they have eyes for the crawling poor ? …this is something I fail to understand.
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We might have travelled together in a bus or train. Around a meal in a hotel we have sat next each other. Very often we’ve been on a hunt for jobs together. As an exception even been part of an intercaste wedding. In large measure all these changes are the result of pressure from the outside. On the inside – it is all dark and dismal.
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If the poet Pampa were alive today he would have revolted against the ‘ stick insect norms’ laid down for our Beauty Queen Contests. I can’t help think that if he were here to watch our TV shows he might have switched off channel F. As far as tastes go, Pampa can be seen as the south pole, Lankesh then would be the north pole. And if the two were to meet – ‘Che- he lacks taste’ each one might have said of the other.
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When Ningiah told me that he was once a wrestler, I stared at his body for signs of a champ. No part of his body seemed to prove it. It is likely poverty had mercilessly chewed on the wrestler’s limbs.
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Today our cities can’t breathe. Our villages are weak and can’t walk. He who once gave us life with rice and grain, is now taking his own life. There is only one way we can all live – we must sow dreams of equality again.
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Gandhi – is like a stern father.
J P- a helpless mother
Vinobha – a pious elder sister
Lohia – the tramp on a trot from village to village.
Ambedkar – a son who keeps out of the house annoyed at the unfairness of things.
This is our family. We the children. How else do we see it ?
