Anganwadi workers in Solapur in Maharashtra staging a protest in 2023 demanding a wage hike Anganwadi workers in Solapur in Maharashtra staging a protest in 2023 demanding a wage hike

Caste Certificates

It is true,I found casteOnly when i saw itOn a certificate.Before that,I never understood whyMy father uprooted his existenceFrom the birthplace of his oppression.Why he never talks aboutCulture or pride of his ancestry.After all, my grandfather’s houseIs after a lake by the side of a highwayIn a series of huts from away from the village.Nobody noticed when he left,So why expect a welcome now.

Before I saw caste on a certificate,I never understood whySome friends didnt eatFrom my tiffin box that momPacked carefully to not show who i am.And yes i called them friends.I never understood whyI was refused to be taught musicWhen i was fourteen.They looked at my hands to sayThey were too small to holdAnything, my voice,Too coarse for classical singing.I learnt to hold the strings of a guitarLike a war cry, my voice,Like a poem that your gods rejectedBut still burns a hole in everythingThe world holds divine.

When i finally saw caste on my certificateI finally understood the rejection of a girlWho said our familiesWill never find common grounds,Its so funny when people change from“I love you” to “maybe in another life”Like i hold power over both,Like its a genuine wishTo call for a dying star.I didnt see caste for all my lifeAnd when i finally saw itEverything made sense.The teacher’s uncalled anger,Father’s fear of me finally findingAll the generational shame,The only family property,And my mother;s inabilityTo say love will cure it all.

When i finally saw caste,This poem made more sense thanYour inability to understand.

Daniel Sukumar, Karnataka

(Daniel Sukumar is a spoken word poet and a stage artist. His poetry aims at initiating conversations around mental health, politics, and caste oppression. He mentors student poets and has played a huge role in the development of slam poetry in Bengaluru.)

Secular

I was unawareOf their techniqueTo sniff people’s caste

One day, visiting a friend’s houseEncountered his uncle,Lounging on the balcãoAnd we began conversing

“Wagh? You’re one of us,”Uncle smirked.I felt a pang of anxiety.

Yet, he sought absolute certainty.So he inquired,“The Kamat Waghs of Ribandar, kin to you?”

“No,” I replied.

“Hailing from Karwar?”

“No, I’m from Goa.”“Indeed? Which part?”“From Dongri? Perhaps the Mahajans of the Rama temple?”

“No. Our goddess is Sati.”

Still unable to deduce,He probed once more.“Who is your family deity?”

“Shivnath,” I offered.

“From Shiroda?”

“Yes.”

“So…so you are not a GSB.”

“No, uncle, we are Bhandaris.”A chuckle escaped him.“Don’t take offense! I asked out of curiosity.We renounce caste.Come, have tea.Caste system has marred Goa.Who is Baman? Who is Shudra? Who cares?These divisions hold no meaning.We should be secular.We must have a casteless society, you know?”Uncle waited, anticipation in the air,I merely noddedSipping teaMy gaze, firm on his sacred thread’s descent

—Translated from Konkani by Kaustubh Naik

Vishnu Wagh, Goa

(Vishnu Wagh was a poetjlbet, writer, dramatist, journalist, politician, management consultant and trainer. He was a former member of the Legislative Assembly in Goa from 2012 to 2017.)

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