While talking about workplace discrimination in India with one of my cousins during a recent trip to Orissa, he happened to remark that caste discrimination doesn’t exist in urban India. I agreed with him then, as I too believed that systematic and institutionalized caste discrimination is a rural phenomenon. This is not an uncommon opinion; the rhetoric of “caste doesn’t exist in cities” has been vociferously echoed by elites in urban corridors for a decade. And there is truth in it. While conducting surveys on behalf of the Institute for Human Development (IHD) in order to study correlations between urban violence and poverty, I learned that the vast majority of urban communities – rich or poor- did not report caste issues as being a major source of conflict.
But while urbanisation may have eroded to a certain extent the traditional distinctions associated with Hindu jatis, it seems to have insidiously transformed caste, stripping it of its name, but letting it stratify urban society subtly but substantially. When we think of the word ‘caste’, we immediately think of either varnas or jatis, the latter of which is the basis for discrimination and affirmative action. But caste has a broader meaning in the English language. Wikipedia defines caste as –
“a form of social stratification characterised by endogamy, hereditary transmission of lifestyle which often includes an occupation, ritual status in a hierarchy and customary social interaction and exclusion based on cultural notions of purity and pollution.”
The urban poor form a caste-like strata vis-a-vis the middle classes. While endogamy is still practised in the context of the Hindu jatis, the hereditary transmission of lifestyle and occupation is a consequence of the structural shackles which come free with their poverty. Unable to access good schools- the state of public schools being dismal- the poor are barred from any upward social mobility. Their children are often condemned to occupying the same jobs , with the same wages adjusted for inflation. But the most important aspect of caste – one that separates it from simply class as a form of stratification- is the notion of “purity” and “pollution”. While these fundamental tenets of casteism are not explicitly invoked in modern urban Indian society, they are nevertheless deeply entrenched in the public subconscious.
This is evident in our daily lives and yet evades conscious reflection. When maids work at our houses, they eat in the kitchen rather than at our table. More often that not, they have separate utensils from which they are allowed to eat. Poor carpenters who work in our houses are often given water in glasses separate from the ones we use ourselves. Some time back, my apartment society even passed a rule stating that there would be a separate lift to ferry dogs and maids! This rule was later revoked, but the fact of the matter was that the society “legislators” voted with for a apartheid era relic without noticing the overt parallels to their own colonial subjugation-
Even the most “progressive” of urban households are blissfully unaware of the fact there is something wrong in this. When questioned, they reply with a verbal shrug: “This is nothing to do with caste or class or anything, it’s just that these people are much more likely to be dirty…”. Well, discrimination against castes which traditionally performed menial labour (especially labour related to the cleaning of human waste) also evolved due to a perception of “dirtiness” that was associated with such unappealing – but indispensable-tasks. Yet, by distancing ourselves from the nominal construction of caste discrimination, we have been seemingly absolved of all blame. Thus we feel justified to vent all that faux-outrage at the abstract and distant caste discrimination which plagues the hinterlands, while ignoring the prejudice in our own homes. Perhaps we need to engage in a somber reflection on our own lives and lifestyle to take a step forward in promoting real change.