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New Indian Express
03-05-2025
- Entertainment
- New Indian Express
Plagarism allegations against Tamil short film ‘Seeing Red,' selected for MAMI
CHENNAI: Journalist and writer Jeyarani has alleged that short film 'Seeing Red' made by Shalini Vijayakumar, which was selected under the Mumbai Academy of Moving Image (MAMI) Select: Filmed on iPhone initiative this year, was fully plagiarised from her short story 'Sevvarali Poocharam'. The work was published as part of 'Sennilam', a collection of Jeyarani's short stories, in December 2024. Shalini Vijayakumar was among the four persons selected by MAMI in February and the film fully shot on iPhone had its premiere last month. In a statement on social media on Friday, Jeyarani accused 'Seeing Red' of being a case of 'plagiarism, Brahminical appropriation and historical distortion'. Pointing out that she was alerted by a friend on April 24 that someone had made a film out of her story, the writer said she was shocked to find that the film has been 'blatantly plagiarised'. 'Not only had every inch of it been stolen, down to the title ('Sevvarali Poocharam' – Red oleander flower string), but it had also been distorted and appropriated through a Brahminical lens,' she said. Shalini Vijayakumar told TNIE that she wished to state clearly and respectfully that her film was an entirely original work. 'Any resemblance to other stories is purely coincidental,' she said. Shalini Vijayakumar added that while she took seriously the concerns of story theft and appropriation, she stood by the integrity of her process and the authenticity of the story in this case. Jeyarani, who has written against casteism, communalism and patriarchy, said she wrote 'Sevvarali Poocharam' to release the weight from her memory after being deeply affected by seeing her mother and other women in her village subjected to exorcism rituals. Since director Vetrimaaran was credited as a mentor for the film, Jeyarani said she reached out to him in vain. 'It's possible he didn't know the story was stolen,' she said, adding that what truly surprised her was the 'complete lack of social awareness among anyone associated with the film — whether Brahmin women, as a community, face such systemic oppression, or whether the film is, in fact, appropriating the pain and suffering of women from marginalised communities'. Besides a public apology from Shalini Vijayakumar, she demanded that the film be not screened anywhere or made available on any platforms. She urged MAMI to revoke its selection of the film.
Indian Express
02-05-2025
- Politics
- Indian Express
Opinion Caste census is not mere data collection — it will reshape social identities
The recent decision by the NDA government to reintroduce caste enumeration in the Census marks a significant shift in India's approach to identity politics and social equity. Post-Independence, the Indian state restricted caste-based data collection to Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes, adhering to constitutional mandates for affirmative action. The move away from counting caste was an attempt to distance itself from colonial statecraft. The mainstream political leadership believed that the colonial state had weaponised caste categorisation to institutionalise social fragmentation. It is precisely for this reason that early policymakers sought to dismantle this legacy by suppressing caste consciousness in public discourse. Yet, even during those formative years, dissenting voices such as Panjabrao Deshmukh, India's first agriculture minister, consistently emphasised the necessity of documenting all castes in the census to confront systemic inequalities. Ultimately, however, the idealistic vision of a unified nation envisioned by Jawaharlal Nehru and Sardar Vallabhai Patel prevailed, and information on caste was excluded from the Census data. Paradoxically, the government mandated the gathering of language and religious demographics, which have themselves fuelled enduring conflicts. The colonial Census, as historians have noted, was a double-edged sword. It seemed to have exacerbated Hindu-Muslim divides through communal categorisation and aggravated religious conflicts. On the other hand, it profoundly reshaped caste identities, transforming fluid social hierarchies into rigid administrative classifications. Scholarly critiques emphasise how colonial enumeration compartmentalised communities into enumerated boxes. Furthermore, it resulted in hardening religious and caste boundaries, laying the groundwork for divisive politics. However, what has been largely ignored is how this process inadvertently democratised political culture and expanded debates about political representation. For instance, marginalised groups leveraged Census data to demand equitable shares in resources and political rights. However, to attribute India's enduring caste inequities solely to colonial interventions risks obscuring a more profound truth. That is, caste hierarchies, codified over millennia through Brahminical norms and material dispossession, predate and outlast colonial rule. The push for caste enumeration today, then, must be understood as more than a bureaucratic exercise. It is a reckoning with both colonial legacies and deeper historical inequalities based on caste. By exposing disparities in land ownership, education, and employment, a caste census could dismantle the myth of a 'post-caste' India. It has the potential to empower marginalised voices to challenge systemic exclusion. Over the past seven decades, the absence of official caste data in the census has done little to erode its influence. Instead, caste has entrenched itself through informal yet potent channels. Caste associations have proliferated in urban areas to cater to the needs of their community members, such as matrimonial alliances and furthering religious and cultural practices. Further, these associations have also mobilised their communities to gain political clout and access to state patronage. At times, caste associations have taken violent forms, as seen in Bihar's Ranveer Sena, a group representing landed upper-caste interests. Political parties, irrespective of ideology, have meticulously mapped caste demographics to craft electoral strategies, distribute tickets, and cultivate patronage networks. Dominant castes have leveraged their numerical strength to corner a larger share of political power. They have utilised their position to corner a larger share of state resources. For instance, the Marathas, Jats, and Patidars have evolved into regionally influential capitalist blocs. These groups now control agrarian capital as well as the real estate sector. Interestingly, the economically weaker sections within these dominant castes have been at the forefront in demanding exclusive quotas in higher education and public employment. These claims, however, failed to stand judicial scrutiny due to a glaring absence of empirical evidence proving social and educational backwardness. The case of Maharashtra's Maratha community epitomises the fluidity and strategic manipulation of caste identity in pursuit of political and economic advantage. In recent years, the state government attempted to institutionalise Marathas' backwardness to justify separate reservation quotas. However, the Supreme Court struck down these quotas because of a lack of empirical evidence. Undeterred, Marathas have argued that the Marathas and the Kunbi caste are similar. They claimed that, as the Kunbis — historically an agrarian community — are classified as Other Backward Classes (OBC), Marathas should also benefit from the reservation. Despite the opposition from the Kunbi community and OBC groups, the Maharashtra government issued Kunbi certificates to Marathas in the Marathwada region. These developments starkly contrast the 1931 colonial Census, when Maratha-Kunbi elites encouraged Kunbis to self-identify as Marathas. These instances underscore that censuses are not neutral exercises in data collection but contested arenas where identities are actively reshaped. It also exposes the paradox of caste enumeration. While it risks entrenching divisions, its absence allows dominant groups to exploit ambiguities and perpetuate inequity under the guise of formal equality. Therefore, data on castes in the Census would provide an evidentiary foundation to confront castes not as a relic of the past but as a living structure of power, which demands targeted redressal and not erasure through silence.
The Hindu
28-04-2025
- Entertainment
- The Hindu
Somnath Waghmare on Chaityabhumi, Dalit Representation in Cinema, and Cultural Assertion
Published : Apr 28, 2025 14:55 IST - 6 MINS READ Somnath Waghmare, a young researcher and filmmaker, is best known for his documentary Chaityabhumi (on MUBI) that explores a place called Chaityabhumi where Babasaheb Ambedkar was laid to rest in Dadar, Mumbai. The film explores the Ambedkarite movement while marking the death anniversary of Ambedkar when people gather at Chaityabhumi from all over India. The son of a mill worker, Waghmare is from Malawadi village in Maharashtra's Sangli district. He completed his bachelor's at a Marathi medium college in Islampur, then moved to Pune, Mumbai, Bengaluru, and back to Mumbai, where he completed his MPhil from Tata Institute of Social Sciences (TISS) and is now writing his PhD thesis. Waghmare spoke to Frontline about how cinema, media, and academia are highly Brahminical spaces; the influence of Dalit literature and US Black literature; and his appreciation of artists 'who are very strong with their identity'. Excerpts: When did you first visit Chaityabhumi and how did it impact you? As a Maharashtrian Neo Buddhist, the Ambedkarite discourse is a part of my childhood memories. I remember visiting Chaityabhumi as a child; this is a part of my culture. There are few Dalit history sites that people regularly visit, like Bhima Koregaon, Chaityabhumi, Diksha Bhumi, Mahad and Mangaon in Kolhapur district, where Shahu Maharaj and Babasaheb had the first 'untouchable' conference. When I studied media, I realised cinema and media and academia are highly Brahminical spaces. They are ignoring and deleting our stories. I decided to tell our stories from our own perspective. That's the journey from childhood memory to making a film on Chaityabhumi. So, there is ignorance in the so-called mainstream media about the Ambedkar discourse. Is that the reason Chaityabhumi became a film? As a researcher I feel whenever people from non-Dalit backgrounds make films on Dalit stories, they show them as victims. Within that there's another pattern: the saviour Brahmin heroes in those films. I wanted to break that narrative and tell the normal life of Dalits. Chaityabhumi is an interesting space where lakhs of people visit. People are aware that Ambedkar is not a god. This is a space where people are creating a counterculture against the Brahminical caste system. I wanted to tell that story. Also Read | Ambedkar, on a device near you In your film we see Rahul Sonpimpale speaking about public spaces in the context of Chaityabhumi, a shared space. The camera then pans to slushy grounds and tarpaulin tents. Could you explain this juxtaposition? That scene I recorded in 2017. The film is not just about Ambedkarite culture, it's also a critique of public space. People from the dominant caste, who are actually a minority of this country, think all public spaces in India are their own property. There is huge hatred for the December 6 gathering, also a contribution of our English media. Before 2018, reports focused on traffic jams. Then the media criminalised the Chaityabhumi gatherings. Book sales are around Rs.10 crore: This is the biggest literature festival, with almost 2,000 to 3,000 book stalls in Shivaji Park on December 6. That scene is a critique of public space politics. The iconography of Ambedkar in your film includes posters, calendars, and statues; the film is a tribute to Babasaheb. But Babasaheb himself was against the idea of worship. Could you comment on the iconisation of Babasaheb through your film? People are very aware that Ambedkar is not a god. Those who visit Chaityabhumi are also very aware. If you see Pranjali Kureel's interview in the film, she clearly explains what this means. Buying these things is nothing but the Ambedkar discourse. Tell us more about your identity as a Dalit Buddhist filmmaker. I never hide my social identity. Savarnas never hide their identity: The oppressor doesn't feel scared, so why should we? In India everything is dependent on your caste identity. My identity is important because if Chaityabhumi was made by a non-Dalit, what would that film be? I learnt these things from Dalit literature and Black literature and artists who have a strong sense of identity. My identity is very important to me, that's why I'm making these films. 'When you have an insider's perspective, it comes with responsibility. It's emotional, but it's also a political responsibility to portray your people's story in a dignified way.'Somnath WaghmareDirector of documentary Chaityabhumi Your film portrays both emotional and political dimensions of Mahaparinirvan Diwas... When you are an insider to a film, it's very emotional. This wasn't a one-day shoot: I worked on this project for almost four years. I observed the extreme poverty of Indian Scheduled Castes. If you visit Shivaji Park on December 1 or 6, you will see the economic status of Scheduled Castes, whose population is around 25 to 30 crore in India. When you have an insider's perspective, it comes with responsibility. It's emotional, but it's also a political responsibility to portrayyour people's story in a dignified way. Also Read | Squandered heritage Your cultural assertion is through music, literature and public performances. Why was it important to highlight these forms of expression? The Dalit movement is now everywhere: This month people celebrate Ambedkar Jayanti as Dalit History Month in the US, Canada, Australia and the UK. Music is a very important tool for the Dalit movement. Ambedkarite singer Wamndada Kardak, who wrote 2,500 songs on Ambedkar. This is a very crowded place in the heart of Mumbai. How did you manage to navigate during filming? I got permission from the Ambedkar family and from the Buddhist Society of India. Several politicians visit. It's difficult to enter but our team had Buddhist society pass that way. It's a little bit easy to shoot this political gathering. How do you see this film contributing to the anti-caste movement and conversations? Because of this film I visited the US three times and went to Germany and the UK. We've screened the film in public spaces in India, in Delhi, Bengaluru, Mumbai and many educational institutions. We got a good response. And I think this film is an important digital document for understanding the cultural assertion of the Dalit movement. At the end of the film, Prakash Ambedkar speaks for a long time. Don't you think there is a danger of politicising the film? What's wrong with that? As a filmmaker, I have the right to show what I want. Prakash Ambedkar appears in the film as an advisor of The Buddhist Society of India, not as a political leader. I avoided political party stages in film. That Buddhist society stage is very historical. It's a culture of December 6 that the event ends with his speech as an advisor. Previously his mother Meeratai Ambedkar gave the speech, and before that his father Yashwant Ambedkar. My last question is about the Ambedkarite movement. The way it is now, fragmented, despite Ambedkar's message to 'unite and then fight.' How do you see this? My observation is completely different. Politically, the Ambedkarite movement is weak now, I agree. But you can't judge any movement just by its electoral success. You need to visit JNU, visit TISS, visit IITs, visit any campus in India now and even abroad and you will find that Ambedkarite groups are growing. The fragmentation exists because now the right-wing government is in power. I'm very positive because I'm not judging any movement's success by its electoral success. If you watch their influence in academia, cinema and media, they are very active in other forms. They fail in electoral politics because of a caste-based society: non-Dalits are not supporting Dalit parties and it's also a connection with the Poona Pact.
The Hindu
26-04-2025
- Politics
- The Hindu
M.G.S. Narayanan and the 10 tall tales that he wanted erased from Kerala history
What is common to Parasurama and his axe, the apostle St. Thomas, Tipu Sultan and Pattanam? 'Kerala' would be the general consensus. As such, they were also part of a list of 10 'tall tales' that historian M.G.S. Narayanan, who died on Saturday, once compiled with the advice that they be erased forever from the history books on Kerala. The list contained oft-told 'origin stories' and compelling tales that even today go unchallenged in accounts on the region, but which, Prof. Narayanan said, should be discarded in favour of rigour and honesty in historical research. Kerala Charithrathile 10 Kallakathakal (Ten tall tales in Kerala history) was published by DC Books as part of a series that marked the 60th anniversary of the formation of the State of Kerala. No.1 and No.2 myths that were eligible to be jettisoned, according to him, were the stories of how Parasurama created Kerala with a throw of his axe and the arrival of St. Thomas in Kerala in AD 52. In the first case, Prof. Narayanan notes how early historians strived hard to convert the Parasurama story into historical fact through interpretations. In the case of the second, he observes how the story has persisted as historical fact despite the absence of proof. On Mahabali and Onam In his book, Prof. Narayanan describes the attempt to link the festival of Onam with the tale of the golden age when Mahabali ruled Kerala, listed as No.3, as at once dangerous, fantastic and a distortion of history. By creating an origin story for Onam, Brahminical betrayals and takeover of lands was conveniently glossed over, he wrote. Other stories listed by Prof. Narayanan include the narrative of Rama Varma Kulasekharan, the last of the Cheraman Perumals, travelling to Mecca, Vasco da Gama's landing at Kappad (Prof. Narayanan notes that he landed at Panthalayani Kollam) and the portrayal of Tipu Sultan as an anti-imperialist freedom fighter. The story of Pazhassi Raja taking his own life by swallowing a diamond ring to avoid capture, and the 'distortion' of the 1921 Moplah Rebellion, also find a place on his list. In his book, Prof. Narayanan rubbishes the 'Kerala Model' as a Left narrative carefully constructed around the ''money order economy' founded on Gulf remittances. Myth of Muziris Story No. 10 is about how Pattanam, a village near North Paravur, was made out to be the ancient port of Muziris, despite the glaring absence of any conclusive evidence. 'Archaeology cannot deceive. But archaeology directors who pose as such without being archaeologists are capable of any such deception,' Prof. Narayanan wrote then.
Mint
25-04-2025
- Politics
- Mint
How the culture of elite institutions alienates marginalised students
Over the five years between 2019 and 2023, more than 25,000 Scheduled Caste (SC), Scheduled Tribes (ST) and Other Backward Classes (OBC) students have dropped out of top educational institutions, including IITs (Indian Institutes of Technology) and Central universities, according to Rajya Sabha data shared by the minister of state for education in 2023. These aren't just students; they represent 25,000 generational legacies excluded from the stream of higher education. Persisting discrimination in hostels, education and placements culminates in suicides among students from marginalised communities in IITs and IIMs (Indian Institutes of Management), highlighting the severe caste-based discrimination and linguistic inferiority they face. Adapting to the culture of elite institutions becomes especially difficult for rural students without systems in place to provide them with mental and emotional support. The founding ideals of institutions like IITs and IIMs are rooted in meritocracy. When higher education upholds caste hierarchies instead of dismantling them, it betrays its very purpose. B.R. Ambedkar famously said, 'Educate, Agitate, Organise", and notably, education comes first. Marginalised communities educate themselves, organise, and yet struggle in pursuit of education because the universities fail to safeguard their interests. Once universities become safe havens, without discrimination, shared learning can foster invincible collective strength. Therefore, education must be the top priority for students from disadvantaged backgrounds, ensuring they are not merely used as foot soldiers or vote banks in divisive agendas of majoritarian regimes. A HISTORY OF LEARNING Systemic inequality was challenged by Chhatrapati Shahu Maharaj through education. In the early 20th century, as a ruler of Kolhapur, he implemented reservations in education and employment for marginalised communities, and was one of the first to do so. Karmaveer Bhaurao Patil created history by founding the Rayat Shikshan Sanstha (Rayat Educational Institute) in Satara in 1919, an institute that has grown to become one of the largest educational networks in Maharashtra with a focus on providing quality, affordable education to the socially and economically marginalised. In the mid-19th century, Jyotirao Phule and Savitribai Phule challenged Brahminical dominance by opening the first school for girls and lower-caste children in Pune. At a time when education was denied to the oppressed, their efforts laid the foundation for an inclusive and just society. Their lives and struggles stand as powerful examples, showing that education is not just a means of learning, but a weapon to fight injustice. These pioneering efforts were not just about providing literacy, they were about building cultural capital for the marginalised. By fostering access to knowledge, values and institutional spaces, they empowered oppressed communities to claim legitimacy and visibility in a society that had long denied them both. Youth from rural and marginalised backgrounds in India and abroad are often identified as 'underprivileged". Their cultural identity itself becomes their cultural capital. Being excluded from the dominant social classes for generations constantly reminds them of their fragile social position. Many marginalised communities constantly battle the lack of cultural capital within themselves even today, after 200 years. A SENSE OF BELONGING The concept of 'cultural capital" was introduced by French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu, born in 1930 to a working-class family. According to this idea, the first element of cultural capital is belonging to a specific social class. The second and very significant aspect includes the skills, clothing, cultural practices, resources and exposure a person gains as part of a particular social group. From these two components, the meaning of cultural capital becomes clear. When we look at the cultural capital of individuals from marginalised communities through this framework, we begin to understand its impact on their journey through higher education. For example, in academic settings a Dalit student refuses to speak in fear of being mocked for bad English or 'impure" dialects. Likewise, most students lose opportunities and access to jobs and internships because their profiles and networks aren't as polished and well-defined as their counterparts. Due to these disparities, many students from marginalised groups face constant mental stress. They experience an inner burden when they sit beside peers wearing expensive branded clothes, knowing they must compete with them in the same academic and job market. The simultaneous awareness of personal poverty and the symbolic mental pressure of others' wealth creates a difficult learning environment. Of course, this is not to say that wealthy students should not dress according to their means. The point is that an individual's cultural capital continuously shapes their educational experience. This struggle continues even in the job market. A student with labouring parents has worked through their life, toiling in farms and work sites, yet they will be dismissed as lacking 'work experience" or a 'life skill". In comparison, consider your classmates doing stints at NGOs funded by their parents and peer networks; it is suddenly a recognisable skill and a passion project. At the level of educational policy, this issue is still largely ignored. Cultural capital is seen merely as an academic or sociological concept. The fact that differences in cultural capital prevent marginalised students from fully benefiting from higher education is not widely acknowledged. While individual foundations and organisations continue to work to bridge these gaps, it is crucial to engage in policy-level discussion on cultural capital and, more importantly, initiate coordinated efforts by policymakers, social workers, thinkers and researchers to bring about meaningful change. A NARROW LENS Policymakers often promote skill-based education as a pathway to employability. When generations of marginalised communities have been systematically exploited by capitalist systems, is it just to once again reduce them to mere labourers in the name of equipping them with skills? Many rural students, despite their academic potential, are misled into choosing vocational training courses, believing it to be the only viable path to employment. Despite being capable of competing at IITs or global institutions, they fall into this trap of industrial training institutes. Education must be more than a credential; it must be a vehicle for dignity, self-respect and representation. For many disadvantaged students, international universities offer a more equitable alternative, with need-blind admissions, inclusive pedagogies and mentorship programs that actively work to counter the structural inequalities present in Indian institutions. This is borne out by the findings of the parliamentary standing committee's report, released in March, exposing stark inequities in Indian higher education. Fewer than 1% of private university students are from Scheduled Tribes, and only 5% from Scheduled Castes, with SC faculty representation at a dismal 4%. These figures reveal how both state and private institutions perpetuate exclusion, despite universities being hailed as equalisers. In India, the government invests crores of rupees in institutions like the IITs, yet many of their graduates eventually settle abroad. In contrast, students from marginalised backgrounds who pursue global education through scholarships often return with a strong commitment to contribute to local and national development. The government and policy-makers must recognise this potential and take proactive steps to engage these scholars in key national projects. Creating pathways for them to work on diverse issues, ranging from education and health to technology and policy, can have a far-reaching impact. When Dalit, Bahujan and Adivasi scholars are given such opportunities, India moves closer to becoming a genuinely inclusive and equitable society. Raju Kendre is the founder and CEO of Eklavya India Foundation, a non-profit focused on education and leadership. He is also a visiting fellow at CeMIS, University of Göttingen, under the German Chancellor Fellowship by the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation.
