By Rajesh Ramachandran
27 December 1998
Sunday Hindustan Times
Gudar Basti could just be another slummy locality of the bustling industrial city of Kanpur. It is late afternoon, and pigs scurry about, children play amidst heaps of rubbish and demure women bathe publicly. The elders, who have just returned after disposing of the garbage from posh colonies, are huddled together. Gudar Basti is inhabited by Valmikis, the poorest among the Dalits, and a community that survives on the litter of the rich.
What distinguishes Gudar Basti from other jhuggi-jhonpri clusters in Kanpur is the banner at its entrance. Its message is blunt: “Tired of atrocities, the Valmikis of Gudar Basti have decided to convert to Islam. In the new year, a new religion will begin under the guidance of Anil Brahm.” Excited at our arrival, trying to vent anger in unison, it takes time and persuasion before Anil Brahm is allowed to have his say. Once he starts, there is no stopping him: “The Muslim-dominated Begumganj is also on railway land. But nobody dares touch the residents there. They openly threaten, ‘Any Hindu who touches our houses will be bombed out.’ We, too, want similar protection. If we become Muslims no one will harm us; they have assured us of help if we convert. In any case, we are not Hindus and no Hindu helps us. There is no discrimination among Muslims. They drink from the same glass, eat from the same plate, worship at the same place.”
The story is confusing and it takes time to piece it together. Six months ago, the administration had listed Gudar Basti among the colonies squatting on railway land. It did not serve eviction notices; instead, it imposed fines. The 10,000 (or possibly less) illiterate Dalits of Gudar Basti were considered an easy target — neither could they protest, nor was their protector, Bahujan Samaj Party (BSP) leader Mayawati, any longer Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh. Enthusiastic officials descended on Gudar Basti and demanded from 18 of its residents amounts ranging from Rs 7,000 to Rs 60,000 for illegal occupation going back 40 years. Their inability to pay invited immediate retribution — they were beaten and jailed, a fact confirmed by Additional District Magistrate of Kanpur Surya Prakash Mishra.
Fifty-year-old Rajkumari, a mother of two teenage daughters, was one of the victims. Her fault: she had pleaded with the officials who had come searching for her husband. She was beaten and kept at the police station for a day. Ultimately, Rajkumari gathered a few thousand rupees. “The wholesaler who buys the rags we collect paid half, the rest I borrowed. Now the measly Rs 20 to 30 I used to earn daily goes in paying the debt. How will I keep the pot boiling? How will I marry off my daughters?” she wails. Kanhaiya Lal’s father was luckier — he was dead. The police had come looking for the old man, and took away Kanhaiya Lal instead. He recalls, “First, they took me to the tehsil office and later to the jail where I spent 14 days. There was no one to stand surety, so they sent me off on their own.”
But Kanhaiya Lal and others are neither scared nor worried. They don’t scamper away on hearing a jeep arrive, and boldly talk to visitors about their travails and the plan to convert to Islam. Their worldview changed on December 7, the day they decided to take this step if the administration did not concede their demand. And what precisely does Gudar Basti want? Simple — the administration must undertake in writing that Gudar Basti will not be effaced, nor the residents evicted from the railway land. Verbal assurances won’t do, for they have been given these in the past. But whose idea it was to use the threat of conversion to blackmail the administration? After much coaxing and cajoling, Anil Brahm admits: “We saw on TV that Valmikis in Bareilly are threatening to become Muslims. The issue was the same — they were being evicted from their colony. On December 7, we held a meeting and served notice on the administration giving it three weeks’ time.”
Poverty can often defang protest — so Gudar Basti had to innovate to make itself heard. Bereft of money, and lacking the backing of mainstream political parties, the residents hung a banner at the entrance making public their intent. Though most are illiterate, their leaders were savvy enough to realise the importance of the media — a local newspaper was approached with their story. And once a Delhi-based daily frontpaged the story, the administration invited the leaders to talk.
This response has not weakened the resolve of Gudar Basti. A written assurance from the administration, no less, is the price on which its residents insist, to stay in the Hindu fold. They know they have cornered the admininistration: either it relents, or the Hindu (BJP) governments at the Centre and Uttar Pradesh suffer the ignominy of watching the Valmikis of Gudar Basti convert to Islam. Proselytisation as a form of protest is not new in Dalit politics. In 1956, BR Ambedkar had led six lakh Mahars in Maharashtra into the Buddhist fold.
Intermittently, Dalits have adopted other faiths in protest against the atrocities of upper castes, the most famous being the Meenakshipuram conversion in the Eighties. But never before, perhaps, has conversion been employed as a strategy to blackmail the administration into submission on a specific dispute.
The question, however, is: How serious is Gudar Basti about its threat? It’s already dark, so we decide to return the following day to comprehend better the unique protest in this squalid corner of Kanpur.
Relent, or we convert
We walk through the congested bylanes of Gudur Basti. Accompanying us is a motley group. Even in the absence of Anil Brahm and another leader, Master Tejram Boudh, the residents articulate their anguish and disenchantment with confidence. The Basti is not uniform in its poverty. In one section live municipal sweepers — the houses are cleaner, some are even pucca. In sharp contrast, are the mud shacks, dark and damp. But, today, the two sections are united in their resolve to convert to Islam.
We stop at Gudar Basti’s temple, located in its less poor section. It is a dingy room; the wallclock dominates the Shivling on the floor. The Navarat festival in the month of Chaith is celebrated here. Middle-aged Prem is almost taunting: “We will pull down this mandir and build a masjid here.” The sacred has lost its meaning. Prem is more interested in paying back the establishment — the BJP governments in Lucknow and Delhi — in its own coin. Down the lane, Kusum Bardel echoes similar sentiments. She is a member of the local Mahila Morcha, and the BJP’s lotus symbol is prominent on the nameplate on her door. But party affiliations don’t matter, such is the mood.
Gudur Basti has its proud, inevitable Ambedkar statue, erected on February 16, 1983. It is a vestige of the era of Congress dominance and its politics of symbolism. “Our problems began in the early Eighties,” reminisces Debidin, referring to an earlier occasion when they were asked to move. “But then state minister Abdul Rahman Nastar helped us. He brought in Arif Mohammed Khan and Yogendra Makwana and the colony was declared a slum in 1988. Even earlier, then Railway Minister Kamlapathi Tripathi suspended all action, and advised us to instal an Ambedkar statue.” Gudur Basti is learning the hard way that symbolic politics has its limitations. It is no guarantee against the authorities swooping down later. Says Debidin, “Because of the 1983 experience, we want an assurance in writing now.”
In 70-year-old Rajarani’s courtyard, we come across a plaque commemorating the inauguration of Republic Day celebrations by a Congressman. Once it stood prominently; today, it has been discarded as scrap. Says Rajarani, “I am willing to convert as long as I can stay where I have lived all my life.” She is willing to wear burqa and offer namaz, but doubts the wisdom of demolishing the temple.
The Basti’s youth do not share her reservations. Dinesh, the unemployed son of a municipal sweeper, appears to relish the agitation. It’s his vengeance against those who have never allowed him near the deity of the upper caste temple nearby. “The priests always shoo us away,” he splutters. But now — activists of the saffron brigade and Hindu religious groups have been abjectly knocking on their doors, aware that Gudur Basti’s threat is a direct challenge to them. But the residents insist: either the administration relents, or they convert.
Embarassed: What can BJP, BSP do?
The agitation in Gudur Basti is about making a political statement, about enhancing clout against the establishment, about increasing bargaining power, about using a prickly, emotive weapon to extract concessions. Conversion to Islam, its residents believe, is what can save them from sinking anonymously in the quicksands of caste politics. Yadavs and Kurmis are political powers in their own right; the BJP will not patronise Dalits because they are closely identified with the BSP; and the BSP right now is not in power. But a threat of this sort now forces the administration to listen. Christian missionaries had attempted to lure them with funds and education, but found no takers. For Gudar Basti is not after enhancing its economic or social status. Its limited goal is to make a political statement.
Indeed, the Valmikis here feel politically orphaned. Babulal Bardel, an erstwhile Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh activist, feels even parties with the avowed ideology of uniting and solidifying the Hindu community don’t treat them as equals. Though Bardel didn’t face any discrimination when he attended the RSS shakha in 1979, he says, “But outside the shakha it’s the same. I am still a BJP worker. But for the last 20 years, no non-Dalit leader has had tea from my place. Why shouldn’t I become a Muslim?” They are not enamoured of the BSP, either. Says Master Tejram Boudh: “It is not only Brahmins and Thakurs that preach discrimination. Even Dalits can become Brahmins in attitude. When I went to meet Kanshi Ram and Mayawati, I was made to sit on the floor. Even Assembly members and other senior leaders have to sit on the floor in their presence. The BSP is a Chamar party.” (Valmikis are way below Chamars in the Dalit heirarchy.)
Even so, touched to the quick, Vishwa Hindu Parishad and BSP have petitioned the district magistrate on Gudur Basti’s behalf. VHP Kanpur unit joint secretary Prem Narain Bhatt feels Gudur Basti will never actually convert because its residents will have to stop rearing pigs and eating pork. But, just to be sure, the ageing organising secretary Krishna Kumar Vajpayee threatens: “If need be, we will stop them physically.” Senior local BSP leader Rama Krishan Diwakar says his party is helpless because it is not in power. “In all of UP, the BJP government is attacking our votebank, and we are helpless. We have petitioned the administration...but independent movements like Gudar Basti’s will not affect our votebanks. After all, it was we who empowered them to agitate.”
But the embarrassment for both BJP and BSP is deep — for the BJP, the Basti’s conversion to Islam militates against its concept of a monolithic Hinduism; for the BSP, it is a severe indictment of its brand of politics. It may encourage Dalits elsewhere to move away from the party. The administration is taking all precautions. It has asked the city Qazi, Maulana Mansoor Ahmed Mujahiri, not to get involved. Officials are also trying to talk the Dalits out of their decision. “It has been happening in Eastern UP too and it shows that Muslim and Dalit voters are moving away from their political masters,” says a senior official. “The day politicians decide to make an issue out of the Gudar Basti agitation, there will be riots.”
District Magistrate BS Bhullar himself is not unsympathetic to Gudar Basti’s grouse. He points out that half of Kanpur comprises encroachments on either Railway or Kanpur Administration land. “How can we throw such a large population out on the streets? Alternate arrangement will be made before anybody is evicted. We are not taking any action now,” he assures. Police chief MA Ganapathy expects no trouble. “I don’t forsee conversions taking place. But it surely is a new mode of protest with an element of blackmail in it.” Other officials would prefer counter blackmail. “It will fizzle out when we tell them that if they convert they’ll be thrown out, and if they don’t, they’ll be allowed to live there.” But that’s exactly what the Basti wants to hear. For the other residents of Kanpur, it is just a storm in the pigsty, which will peter out once the administration throws some crumbs Gudur Basti’s way. But Brahm shakes his head. “We have already been told that we won’t be evicted. But we won’t be fooled. The administration must commit itself in writing.” If Gudur Basti stands firm, it will have opened a new chapter in Dalit politics.
VHP bluster, Qazi’s fluster
The city Qazi is upset, so is the congregation. On a Ramzan evening, the last thing Maulana Mansoor Mujahiri wants to confront is the question of Dalits converting to Islam. He fears a communal backlash. A mass conversion will only result in riots, he can tell. Already the city is full of rumours that they are being forcibly converted.
Sitting in his mosque near Topikhana Bazaar, the Qazi asserts that the Dalits cannot convert only to prove a point. ‘‘I heard they are doing this only because they are going to be evicted from their colony,’’ he says. He does not approve of such blackmail. Anil Kumar Brahm, the Dalit leader, now backtracks. He had claimed to have already talked it over with the Qazi. Yes, he had talked to a Qazi, but not this one. Oh, now that he knows that Mujahiri is the real Qazi, he will deal with him.
Choudhary Zia-ul-Islam, an unsuccessful BSP candidate in the last assembly election, arrives for namaz. The Qazi gets the newspaper report read and translated. He had never offered support, he repeats: ‘‘We don’t need people who want to get converted only because of a specific issue,’’ he repeats. And if it is for protection, he can offer none: ‘‘How far can we protect ourselves nowadays? At the most, we can do what one brother does for another.’’ That’s the opening Brahm has been waiting for. What one brother offers another is all he wants. It is for protection and this sense of brotherhood that his people want to embrace Islam, he says triumphantly. The argument ends there, for the Qazi says he cannot stop a person who chooses Islam for what it stands for.
Choudhary Zia reads in this portents of immense significance for north Indian politics. The Dalit-Muslim formula will be formidable. ‘‘While we lag behind, the Dalits have become politically conscious. Otherwise, how could they find such a unique solution for their problem?’’ asks a member of the congregation. The next day, not too far from Gudar Basti, the Vishwa Hindu Parishad’s organising secretary for the city, Krishna Kumar Vajpayee, is finishing his lunch in an atmosphere suffused with the chanting of sacred slokas. The meal over, he steps down to feed the cow that waits for him outside.
The former telecom officer declares that he will lay down his life to stop the conversions. But then, he says, the conversions won’t happen. And then again, if they do happen, ‘‘We will physically stop them. We will move the Bajrang Dal, if needed. Riots are possible when mass conversions occur.’’
The Sangh Parivar is almost fully represented when Prem Narain Bhatt, the VHP joint secretary, and Virendra Kumar Awasthi, the local RSS Karyavahak, join Vajpayee. All agree that the Dalits have put the Hindu organisations under tremendous pressure. They admit they learnt of the colony’s problems very late. ‘‘But we have already appointed a contact person (Awasthi) for the residents. We will soon open Bal Sanskar Kendras in the colony, our pandits will go there regularly, we will also conduct a hawan soon,’’ Vajpayee declares busily.
The VHP had been complaining about Christian missionaries luring the Dalits with money. Now the colony’s decision to convert to Islam has left it speechless. Bhatt has told the residents that changing their name will not really make a difference. But the Dalits, shrugs the VHP leader, keep citing the “wrong example” that the administration does not interfere in Muslim areas.
While Bhatt is all for economic and legal aid for the colony, Awasthi wants to convince the Dalits that conversion will not solve their problems. But with more such episodes being reported from Bareilly and elsewhere in UP, Vajpayee is disturbed. ‘‘It is a serious threat,’’ he agrees, conceding that in its 73-year existence, his organisation has not been able to reform Hindu society. “But we are not casteist,” he insists. The residents of Gudar Basti are not so sure.
27 December 1998
Sunday Hindustan Times
Gudar Basti could just be another slummy locality of the bustling industrial city of Kanpur. It is late afternoon, and pigs scurry about, children play amidst heaps of rubbish and demure women bathe publicly. The elders, who have just returned after disposing of the garbage from posh colonies, are huddled together. Gudar Basti is inhabited by Valmikis, the poorest among the Dalits, and a community that survives on the litter of the rich.
What distinguishes Gudar Basti from other jhuggi-jhonpri clusters in Kanpur is the banner at its entrance. Its message is blunt: “Tired of atrocities, the Valmikis of Gudar Basti have decided to convert to Islam. In the new year, a new religion will begin under the guidance of Anil Brahm.” Excited at our arrival, trying to vent anger in unison, it takes time and persuasion before Anil Brahm is allowed to have his say. Once he starts, there is no stopping him: “The Muslim-dominated Begumganj is also on railway land. But nobody dares touch the residents there. They openly threaten, ‘Any Hindu who touches our houses will be bombed out.’ We, too, want similar protection. If we become Muslims no one will harm us; they have assured us of help if we convert. In any case, we are not Hindus and no Hindu helps us. There is no discrimination among Muslims. They drink from the same glass, eat from the same plate, worship at the same place.”
The story is confusing and it takes time to piece it together. Six months ago, the administration had listed Gudar Basti among the colonies squatting on railway land. It did not serve eviction notices; instead, it imposed fines. The 10,000 (or possibly less) illiterate Dalits of Gudar Basti were considered an easy target — neither could they protest, nor was their protector, Bahujan Samaj Party (BSP) leader Mayawati, any longer Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh. Enthusiastic officials descended on Gudar Basti and demanded from 18 of its residents amounts ranging from Rs 7,000 to Rs 60,000 for illegal occupation going back 40 years. Their inability to pay invited immediate retribution — they were beaten and jailed, a fact confirmed by Additional District Magistrate of Kanpur Surya Prakash Mishra.
Fifty-year-old Rajkumari, a mother of two teenage daughters, was one of the victims. Her fault: she had pleaded with the officials who had come searching for her husband. She was beaten and kept at the police station for a day. Ultimately, Rajkumari gathered a few thousand rupees. “The wholesaler who buys the rags we collect paid half, the rest I borrowed. Now the measly Rs 20 to 30 I used to earn daily goes in paying the debt. How will I keep the pot boiling? How will I marry off my daughters?” she wails. Kanhaiya Lal’s father was luckier — he was dead. The police had come looking for the old man, and took away Kanhaiya Lal instead. He recalls, “First, they took me to the tehsil office and later to the jail where I spent 14 days. There was no one to stand surety, so they sent me off on their own.”
But Kanhaiya Lal and others are neither scared nor worried. They don’t scamper away on hearing a jeep arrive, and boldly talk to visitors about their travails and the plan to convert to Islam. Their worldview changed on December 7, the day they decided to take this step if the administration did not concede their demand. And what precisely does Gudar Basti want? Simple — the administration must undertake in writing that Gudar Basti will not be effaced, nor the residents evicted from the railway land. Verbal assurances won’t do, for they have been given these in the past. But whose idea it was to use the threat of conversion to blackmail the administration? After much coaxing and cajoling, Anil Brahm admits: “We saw on TV that Valmikis in Bareilly are threatening to become Muslims. The issue was the same — they were being evicted from their colony. On December 7, we held a meeting and served notice on the administration giving it three weeks’ time.”
Poverty can often defang protest — so Gudar Basti had to innovate to make itself heard. Bereft of money, and lacking the backing of mainstream political parties, the residents hung a banner at the entrance making public their intent. Though most are illiterate, their leaders were savvy enough to realise the importance of the media — a local newspaper was approached with their story. And once a Delhi-based daily frontpaged the story, the administration invited the leaders to talk.
This response has not weakened the resolve of Gudar Basti. A written assurance from the administration, no less, is the price on which its residents insist, to stay in the Hindu fold. They know they have cornered the admininistration: either it relents, or the Hindu (BJP) governments at the Centre and Uttar Pradesh suffer the ignominy of watching the Valmikis of Gudar Basti convert to Islam. Proselytisation as a form of protest is not new in Dalit politics. In 1956, BR Ambedkar had led six lakh Mahars in Maharashtra into the Buddhist fold.
Intermittently, Dalits have adopted other faiths in protest against the atrocities of upper castes, the most famous being the Meenakshipuram conversion in the Eighties. But never before, perhaps, has conversion been employed as a strategy to blackmail the administration into submission on a specific dispute.
The question, however, is: How serious is Gudar Basti about its threat? It’s already dark, so we decide to return the following day to comprehend better the unique protest in this squalid corner of Kanpur.
Relent, or we convert
We walk through the congested bylanes of Gudur Basti. Accompanying us is a motley group. Even in the absence of Anil Brahm and another leader, Master Tejram Boudh, the residents articulate their anguish and disenchantment with confidence. The Basti is not uniform in its poverty. In one section live municipal sweepers — the houses are cleaner, some are even pucca. In sharp contrast, are the mud shacks, dark and damp. But, today, the two sections are united in their resolve to convert to Islam.
We stop at Gudar Basti’s temple, located in its less poor section. It is a dingy room; the wallclock dominates the Shivling on the floor. The Navarat festival in the month of Chaith is celebrated here. Middle-aged Prem is almost taunting: “We will pull down this mandir and build a masjid here.” The sacred has lost its meaning. Prem is more interested in paying back the establishment — the BJP governments in Lucknow and Delhi — in its own coin. Down the lane, Kusum Bardel echoes similar sentiments. She is a member of the local Mahila Morcha, and the BJP’s lotus symbol is prominent on the nameplate on her door. But party affiliations don’t matter, such is the mood.
Gudur Basti has its proud, inevitable Ambedkar statue, erected on February 16, 1983. It is a vestige of the era of Congress dominance and its politics of symbolism. “Our problems began in the early Eighties,” reminisces Debidin, referring to an earlier occasion when they were asked to move. “But then state minister Abdul Rahman Nastar helped us. He brought in Arif Mohammed Khan and Yogendra Makwana and the colony was declared a slum in 1988. Even earlier, then Railway Minister Kamlapathi Tripathi suspended all action, and advised us to instal an Ambedkar statue.” Gudur Basti is learning the hard way that symbolic politics has its limitations. It is no guarantee against the authorities swooping down later. Says Debidin, “Because of the 1983 experience, we want an assurance in writing now.”
In 70-year-old Rajarani’s courtyard, we come across a plaque commemorating the inauguration of Republic Day celebrations by a Congressman. Once it stood prominently; today, it has been discarded as scrap. Says Rajarani, “I am willing to convert as long as I can stay where I have lived all my life.” She is willing to wear burqa and offer namaz, but doubts the wisdom of demolishing the temple.
The Basti’s youth do not share her reservations. Dinesh, the unemployed son of a municipal sweeper, appears to relish the agitation. It’s his vengeance against those who have never allowed him near the deity of the upper caste temple nearby. “The priests always shoo us away,” he splutters. But now — activists of the saffron brigade and Hindu religious groups have been abjectly knocking on their doors, aware that Gudur Basti’s threat is a direct challenge to them. But the residents insist: either the administration relents, or they convert.
Embarassed: What can BJP, BSP do?
The agitation in Gudur Basti is about making a political statement, about enhancing clout against the establishment, about increasing bargaining power, about using a prickly, emotive weapon to extract concessions. Conversion to Islam, its residents believe, is what can save them from sinking anonymously in the quicksands of caste politics. Yadavs and Kurmis are political powers in their own right; the BJP will not patronise Dalits because they are closely identified with the BSP; and the BSP right now is not in power. But a threat of this sort now forces the administration to listen. Christian missionaries had attempted to lure them with funds and education, but found no takers. For Gudar Basti is not after enhancing its economic or social status. Its limited goal is to make a political statement.
Indeed, the Valmikis here feel politically orphaned. Babulal Bardel, an erstwhile Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh activist, feels even parties with the avowed ideology of uniting and solidifying the Hindu community don’t treat them as equals. Though Bardel didn’t face any discrimination when he attended the RSS shakha in 1979, he says, “But outside the shakha it’s the same. I am still a BJP worker. But for the last 20 years, no non-Dalit leader has had tea from my place. Why shouldn’t I become a Muslim?” They are not enamoured of the BSP, either. Says Master Tejram Boudh: “It is not only Brahmins and Thakurs that preach discrimination. Even Dalits can become Brahmins in attitude. When I went to meet Kanshi Ram and Mayawati, I was made to sit on the floor. Even Assembly members and other senior leaders have to sit on the floor in their presence. The BSP is a Chamar party.” (Valmikis are way below Chamars in the Dalit heirarchy.)
Even so, touched to the quick, Vishwa Hindu Parishad and BSP have petitioned the district magistrate on Gudur Basti’s behalf. VHP Kanpur unit joint secretary Prem Narain Bhatt feels Gudur Basti will never actually convert because its residents will have to stop rearing pigs and eating pork. But, just to be sure, the ageing organising secretary Krishna Kumar Vajpayee threatens: “If need be, we will stop them physically.” Senior local BSP leader Rama Krishan Diwakar says his party is helpless because it is not in power. “In all of UP, the BJP government is attacking our votebank, and we are helpless. We have petitioned the administration...but independent movements like Gudar Basti’s will not affect our votebanks. After all, it was we who empowered them to agitate.”
But the embarrassment for both BJP and BSP is deep — for the BJP, the Basti’s conversion to Islam militates against its concept of a monolithic Hinduism; for the BSP, it is a severe indictment of its brand of politics. It may encourage Dalits elsewhere to move away from the party. The administration is taking all precautions. It has asked the city Qazi, Maulana Mansoor Ahmed Mujahiri, not to get involved. Officials are also trying to talk the Dalits out of their decision. “It has been happening in Eastern UP too and it shows that Muslim and Dalit voters are moving away from their political masters,” says a senior official. “The day politicians decide to make an issue out of the Gudar Basti agitation, there will be riots.”
District Magistrate BS Bhullar himself is not unsympathetic to Gudar Basti’s grouse. He points out that half of Kanpur comprises encroachments on either Railway or Kanpur Administration land. “How can we throw such a large population out on the streets? Alternate arrangement will be made before anybody is evicted. We are not taking any action now,” he assures. Police chief MA Ganapathy expects no trouble. “I don’t forsee conversions taking place. But it surely is a new mode of protest with an element of blackmail in it.” Other officials would prefer counter blackmail. “It will fizzle out when we tell them that if they convert they’ll be thrown out, and if they don’t, they’ll be allowed to live there.” But that’s exactly what the Basti wants to hear. For the other residents of Kanpur, it is just a storm in the pigsty, which will peter out once the administration throws some crumbs Gudur Basti’s way. But Brahm shakes his head. “We have already been told that we won’t be evicted. But we won’t be fooled. The administration must commit itself in writing.” If Gudur Basti stands firm, it will have opened a new chapter in Dalit politics.
VHP bluster, Qazi’s fluster
The city Qazi is upset, so is the congregation. On a Ramzan evening, the last thing Maulana Mansoor Mujahiri wants to confront is the question of Dalits converting to Islam. He fears a communal backlash. A mass conversion will only result in riots, he can tell. Already the city is full of rumours that they are being forcibly converted.
Sitting in his mosque near Topikhana Bazaar, the Qazi asserts that the Dalits cannot convert only to prove a point. ‘‘I heard they are doing this only because they are going to be evicted from their colony,’’ he says. He does not approve of such blackmail. Anil Kumar Brahm, the Dalit leader, now backtracks. He had claimed to have already talked it over with the Qazi. Yes, he had talked to a Qazi, but not this one. Oh, now that he knows that Mujahiri is the real Qazi, he will deal with him.
Choudhary Zia-ul-Islam, an unsuccessful BSP candidate in the last assembly election, arrives for namaz. The Qazi gets the newspaper report read and translated. He had never offered support, he repeats: ‘‘We don’t need people who want to get converted only because of a specific issue,’’ he repeats. And if it is for protection, he can offer none: ‘‘How far can we protect ourselves nowadays? At the most, we can do what one brother does for another.’’ That’s the opening Brahm has been waiting for. What one brother offers another is all he wants. It is for protection and this sense of brotherhood that his people want to embrace Islam, he says triumphantly. The argument ends there, for the Qazi says he cannot stop a person who chooses Islam for what it stands for.
Choudhary Zia reads in this portents of immense significance for north Indian politics. The Dalit-Muslim formula will be formidable. ‘‘While we lag behind, the Dalits have become politically conscious. Otherwise, how could they find such a unique solution for their problem?’’ asks a member of the congregation. The next day, not too far from Gudar Basti, the Vishwa Hindu Parishad’s organising secretary for the city, Krishna Kumar Vajpayee, is finishing his lunch in an atmosphere suffused with the chanting of sacred slokas. The meal over, he steps down to feed the cow that waits for him outside.
The former telecom officer declares that he will lay down his life to stop the conversions. But then, he says, the conversions won’t happen. And then again, if they do happen, ‘‘We will physically stop them. We will move the Bajrang Dal, if needed. Riots are possible when mass conversions occur.’’
The Sangh Parivar is almost fully represented when Prem Narain Bhatt, the VHP joint secretary, and Virendra Kumar Awasthi, the local RSS Karyavahak, join Vajpayee. All agree that the Dalits have put the Hindu organisations under tremendous pressure. They admit they learnt of the colony’s problems very late. ‘‘But we have already appointed a contact person (Awasthi) for the residents. We will soon open Bal Sanskar Kendras in the colony, our pandits will go there regularly, we will also conduct a hawan soon,’’ Vajpayee declares busily.
The VHP had been complaining about Christian missionaries luring the Dalits with money. Now the colony’s decision to convert to Islam has left it speechless. Bhatt has told the residents that changing their name will not really make a difference. But the Dalits, shrugs the VHP leader, keep citing the “wrong example” that the administration does not interfere in Muslim areas.
While Bhatt is all for economic and legal aid for the colony, Awasthi wants to convince the Dalits that conversion will not solve their problems. But with more such episodes being reported from Bareilly and elsewhere in UP, Vajpayee is disturbed. ‘‘It is a serious threat,’’ he agrees, conceding that in its 73-year existence, his organisation has not been able to reform Hindu society. “But we are not casteist,” he insists. The residents of Gudar Basti are not so sure.
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