In class, caste and culinary amnesia

Growing up with caste in Kolkata in the 1970s was not an important part of my life. Of course, you know it exists, from the offensive mentions of the bride’s desire for advertisements and occasional remarks about someone being chhoto jaat (the next caste) to explain its “misbehavior.” But for the most part, we live in a comfortable world of Banerjees and Mukherjees, Ghoshes and Boses, Sens and Sahas, with little knowledge of the difference in caste.

Castes are inevitable in JNU. Starting with a classmate who introduced himself, adding that Brahman’s “r” gradually entered the final “n”. He added like you. I had no heart to tell him that I was just a half seed, a product of the ban alliance.
Castes are everywhere: From a very light discussion of the role of caste in Marxist analysis (not clear) to whether there are actually dorm mafia to enforce caste segregation (not clear), we have been talking about it all the time.

That was when I started wondering why things were different in Kolkata, and what came to my mind was that no one in my entire school and university associates identified their last name from their pre-determined castes. This is almost certainly not true – there may be a few numbers, but I don’t know them – which doesn’t make me feel better. I began to realize that in Bangladesh, the lower caste is especially invisible, compared to other parts of India. Not long after, I discovered Monoranjan Byapari’s dramatic “Interrogation of My Chandal Life” key recognition, based on the author’s extraordinary life experience. A refugee from East Pakistan and a member of one of the lowest castes, he became a writer while making a living from the residents of rickshaws.

This is not because they are not large in number: Bangladesh has the second highest share of the entire planned caste population, behind Bihar. However, unlike UP, Mayawati was the chief minister several times and Bihar was also the brief term of Jitan Ram Majhi as CM there, I can’t name a leading Bengali politician in the Byapari world. This includes the Communists, with famous leaders carrying names such as Jyoti Basu, Promod Dasgupta, Buddhadhadev Bhattacharya, Biman Bose, Biman Bose, Asim Chatterjee and Kanu Sanyal, all of which can be identified from elite castes.

Indeed, it was difficult to name the main literature of Bangladesh before the publication of “Interrogation My Chandal Life” in 2011, even a relatively good person (like me) was a person outside the usual elite caste, except for a fairly celebrated “Titash Ekti Nodir Naam” (Titash Ekti Nodir Naam), which was named by Advaita Mallabarman. By contrast, there are a large number of Dalit literary works in Marathi, which seem to be widely known and read.

Growing up, when we complain about food, my mother often boils down to the fact that in their family they are expected to eat what the chef produces, and the chef is often proven to be Pithla (see recipes below), and Bhakri is the Palé Bhaji (spinach sautéed with onions). I know it’s farmers’ food and now I find the recipe in Shahu Patole’s charming “Dalit Kitchen at Marathwada”. My mother’s family, by our standards, had a big house and a huge American car. As part of a culinary adventure (Shutki Machher Ambal, a sweet chutney made from dried fish), Bangladeshi equivalent families may occasionally cook some Dalit food, but their daily diet always craves for something more refined and “fine”.

This is obviously the result of the permanent settlement, and the concentration of money and power of the Zamindar class, mainly for historical reasons. The fact that most of the rental income you don’t need to earn means they have enough time to “perfect” their cultural moves, think about the 50-course menu (Panchasbyanjan) for family celebrations, and distance between the Bangladesh elite and others. In Maharashtra, by contrast, most of the land is controlled by farmers and has no overlords (except colonies).

However, this does not explain why Bangladesh is so different politically from Bihar and UP, which is also dominated by Zaminda. My intuition, that’s all, it’s related to the Bengali elite castes (Brahmans, kayasthas, vaidyas and vaishyas), most of whom have been with each other since the early 19th century at least. For example, there are other conflicts between conservatives and liberal Hindus, but not along the caste line. This is different from UP and Bihar, where the cleavage inside Bihar is well documented. Indeed, Mayawati’s successful 2007 campaign explicitly combined the lowest caste with the highest Brahmin caste. Perhaps the need to find allies in a multi-angle war has a limited advantage, i.e. some popularity is given to those who originally did not have it, and the lack of open caste conflict in Bangladesh will create a false sense of solidarity, with only exclusion.

The need for caste census (now accepted by all major political parties) is partly a response to this invisibility. Thanks to Karnataka’s version, we now know that in this state, there is a huge gap in the educational levels of Brahmins, Shoujians and Christians on one side and the educational levels of others, including the thriving Vokkaligas and Lingayats. This is convenient, especially when dealing with Indian elite members, often based on anecdotes, caste differences have become a thing of the past. But, unfortunately, the weight of these educational gaps is small, and the press responds to census of various castes (Bihar, Karnataka, Telangana). Those who surround the population share of different caste groups are a way to ask if these groups are getting the appropriate quota for government work. Given that few people have moderate opportunities in these jobs, this seems like a strange obsession, especially given the scale of injustice and violence represented by caste.

Although quotas themselves are a reasonable case as a tool for hardening mobility in society, they play an important role in policy responses to caste discrimination, which seems unfortunate. The zero and zero nature of the quota and the emphasis on competing exams for obtaining these jobs must contribute to resentment and anxiety rather than building solidarity across groups. A paper from Karla Hoff and Priyanka Pandey’s American Economic Review provides a vivid example. Karla and Priyanka have over 300 kids in many UP villages to solve the maze for bonuses. The author divides some children into combinations, combining lower and higher castes, while others have only one caste. For some randomly selected mixed groups, they asked each child to name their own name, including caste identifiers. In other cases, this is anonymous. It turns out that this makes a huge difference – children of the lower caste are 20% less than children of the upper caste after reminding the difference in the upper caste, but when they are both anonymous. On the other hand, in all low-seed groups, being reminded that their caste does not affect the performance of the child. In other words, even without actual competition, it is just (implicitly) the idea of ​​low-level children paralyzed (implicitly) with their “socially better”. Furthermore, higher children perform best in the mixed group, knowing they are competing against lower castes. The need to affirm their “superiority” makes them work harder.

If the ultimate goal is a society where all castes see each other as brothers, then it seems inappropriate to emphasize competition for work. On the other hand, I can’t think of many large-scale social policies in India that try to build bonds in castes. One recent thing may be school meals, which are now more or less common in public primary schools. When they are introduced, great to-dos about whether upper castes will allow children to share meals with others, especially if the chefs are also from the wrong castes. Some suggest that they might even take their kids out of school, better illiterate than impure. While the available data are spots (or worse), regardless of the assessments I see, the assessments Jean Dreze and others see show that despite occasional outbreaks, most of this is categorized. Kids today seem to eat less quality than food (Ghoogri again? No eggs?). As I’ve known for years of complaining about MIT giving my colleagues food, this can be a powerful combined experience.

This is part of the monthly column for the Nobel Prize-winning Economist.

End of the article