Some more from the margins

Marginality is not always within our control. Certainly, for a large
section of people, it is not. Society has rendered them voiceless;
they are easy meat for exploitation. As a doctor and a writer, It is
my business to lend them a voice. Those who have marginalised
themselves out of choice can help those whom society has marginalised

Marginality is fluid, and in continuous flux. Its meaning will change
too, with the times. You could say that right now, in Indian politics,
Rahul Gandhi is the epicentre. Tomorrow he might find himself
marginalised, pushed to the periphery, like his grandmother was once,
after the Emergency. If the political climate decides the destiny of
certain people, then the financial status, cultural identity, caste or
race might decide the destiny of others.

Those of us who have escaped such marginalisation, are the lucky ones.

I come from a tribal community in south India. We are called Kodavas
from Kodagu which is also known by its British name, Coorg. We were
hunters and ancestor-worshippers and had no inkling of the Hindu gods
until the 17th century when neighbouring kingdoms invaded, built
temples and gradually Hinduised us. There are several tribal
communities in Kodagu but the one I belong to happens to be the
dominant tribe. In the last couple of centuries we have exploited the
other tribes, taken over every bit of land and more or less crushed
them. Some have no choice but to work on our land in order to survive.
Many face extinction.

I don't feel proud to say any of this. I only state it as a fact. One
of my novels, The Scent of Pepper deals with this issue. We have done
is exactly what the white Americans did to the Red Indians, what the
upper caste Hindus did to the lower castes.

From my position as a writer, I do not see literature as separate from
life. In literature too, marginality can be a strength or a curse. The
Second World War gave birth to a certain type of Jewish literature
which reminds us of the base levels to which human cruelty can
descend. In India, Dalit literature gave tongue to a huge section of
oppressed people. Until the 1970's, except for Mulk Raj Anand who
wrote feelingly about the cruel, oppressive force of the caste system,
there was little in Indian literature that highlighted the suffering
of Dalits to a larger public. The Marathi writer Namdeo Dasal came on
the scene, threw every rule in the literary cannon in the ditch and
wrote in a hurtfully original voice. It humbled the non-Dalits into
accepting the fact that true literature is not elitist, it is just
human.

Mahashweta Devi has spent a life-time writing about the plight of
tribals. In recent years there have been several gifted writers have
emerged from the North-East. We are able to read their work, thanks to
good translations.

Marginality, however, is a delicate issue. One can become obsessed
with one's vicitmhood and that is dangerous. Marginalised people
(feminists, gays, Dalits, minority religions, to name a few) will
serve their purpose better if they are open to criticism and deeper
analysis of their condition. They must be able to doubt their own
idelogy and reflect upon it from time to time. And political
correctness should not make others shy of being critical, when they
have to.
Internet has given tongue to many issues of marginality which until
recently were not known of widely. Internet can be a great platform
for debate and dialogue. But increasingly, one finds a great deal of
shrill argument that is prejudiced and often, hate-filled or
rhetorical.

I guess this too is essential, as a vent to supressed anger and
hatred. But if we are to move forward, our minds must learn to
separate the grain from the husk.

For me, the only way of doing this is to doubt myself. As a writer, I
want to retain my freedom to doubt myself, my beliefs, my victimhood.
I want to be able to doubt my heroes – the Gurus, Gods, Gandhis,
Ambedkars and the Obamas. And I want always to respect that freedom in
others.

Coming back to the literary conference and the several papers I
listened to, how worthwhile were they? Merit, especially in
literature, is vindicated by posterity. Marginal or otherwise, the job
of a writer is to write. The less I talk about it, the better.

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