This illustration is from the drawings I made for the story about how my grandfather, Krishnan, was allowed to go to school in early 1900s despite his low caste status, without ‘polluting’ the other upper caste children.
But this is about Govindan Mothalali, his father and my great grand father.
Govindan Mothalali was a trader of some sort, I don’t know what but I know that he was very successful and had a lot of money. My father often told us his story and I still remember how he’d roll his eyes and how his chest would swell with pride, when he said , “My grandfather had a Villu Vandi, a passenger cart. What do you think?”
Our young minds equated it to a Mercedes Benz. We may have been living in a small, dismissible suburb in Mumbai – five of us in a one-bedroom-house – but knowing that our forefathers were rich and well to do made us happy.
However, as I grew up, I found out that my great grandfather was not very high up on the social ladder. He was Ezhava, a caste that makes us toddy tappers by profession. Though he himself wasn’t one, he had to face the same restrictions as all the other Ezhavas.
Even though some allowances were made because of his class, he was still required to be mindful of his place in the caste hierarchy. For instance, Ezhavas could not walk on public roads but my great grandfather had a passenger cart, the Villu Vandi, so he could get on the road. But on the road, he had to be careful, every time he heard “yahe… yahe” he had to stop, get off the Villu Vandi and hide. The call meant a higher caste person, a Namboodiri or Brahmin was passing and it was a warning to the lower castes to keep away from their path.
Even the shadow of a low caste person could pollute or defile, causing what was called Ayitham. The word is the colloquial form of the Sanskrit word Ashudham which means dirty. There remedy to Ayitham was a bath depending on the level of Ayitham. To avoid pollution, there was something called Theendipaad, a prescription telling the different castes the distance they had to maintain from each other. And all castes followed Theendipaad with arithmetic precision.
Brahmins > Nairs > Ezhavas and Thiyyas > Manans and Panans > Pulayas
Since my great grandfather came rather low in the hierarchical structure of society, he had to give way to a lot of people. There were many things that were out of reach for him, one of which was education for his only son, my grandfather. For everything else there were taxes.
They were taxed for – the hair on their head, growing a mustache, the size of their breasts, the clothes they wore, breast feeding the child, birth, marriage, tax, death, among others.
But my great grandfather wanted to make sure my grandfather was educated. Education was after all very prestigious, expensive and exclusive. So he went to the ruling king, Sree Mulam Thirunal, with a petition to get his son educated. It was sanctioned and my grandfather went to school. A separate bench was made for him to avoid Ayitham. He went on to give land to build a school that still stands.
By the time my father went to school, the discrimination was far less. No petition was required for him to go to school. He didn’t need a special bench because Ayitham was abolished in 1936 much before he was born. But my father talks about how his grandmother would insist that they wash away Ayitham every time it was caused. My father could cover his chest, wear a shirt and get on the road, things his grandfather couldn’t do.
Some of these changes were possible because of revolts and protests. For instance, an Ezhava woman, Nangeli, questioned the breast tax or Mulakaram in the early 1800s. Lower caste women were required to pay tax to cover their bosom in public. Baring of chest by lower caste men and women was supposed to be a mark of respect.
Nangeli, however, refused to uncover her bosom and pay tax. When the village officer of Travancore asked her to pay tax, she cut off her breasts and presented them in a leaf to him. She died the same day and her husband is believed to have jumped into her pyre and committed suicide. Following the death of Nangeli, the breast tax system was annulled in Travancore.
Many of the feudal practices that discriminated also came to an end officially in 1947 when India became independent.
As I worked on the comic, I wondered if I had faced caste-based discrimination. I grew up in cosmopolitan Mumbai and the caste system is different here. I am sure caste played out here too but I didn’t see it, the first time I was aware of it was at a wedding in Kerala.
A very close friend of mine was getting married and I had travelled alone to attend it. While at the wedding, a lady tapped me on the shoulder, asked me my name and other details. I kept answering. Then she asked for Tharavaad (ancestral home) name and I told her what I knew. It was a Menon (honorary title accorded to some members of the Nair community) wedding, higher than Ezhavas. As soon as I blurted out the information, she decided to stop talking and walked away.
Having never lived in Kerala, I still think about how she had decoded that I was lowly, dirty and unworthy of her Nair sons and nephews?
