Renunciation and Untouchability in India: The Notional and the Empirical in the Caste Order 1138594555, 9781138594555

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Foreword
Acknowledgements
Introduction: notional Brahmin and the idea of original
1 The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being
2 Physical body and social body
3 Brahmin householder as renouncer
4 Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin
5 Translating touch-un-ability
Conclusion: the dead being is still alive
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

Renunciation and Untouchability in India

This volume develops a historically informed phenomenology of caste and untouchability. It explores the idea of ‘Brahmin’ and the practice of untouchability by offering a scholarly reading of ancient and medieval texts. By going beyond the notions of purity and pollution, it presents a new framework of understanding relationships between social groups and social categories. An important intervention in the study of caste and untouchability, this book will be an essential read for the scholars and researchers of political studies, political philosophy, cultural studies, Dalit studies, Indology, sociology, social anthropology, and Ambedkar studies. Srinivasa Ramanujam is a Tamil writer and translator. He has translated and published the collected essays of D.R. Nagaraj, as well as plays of Sundar Sarukkai and essays by Ashis Nandy, M.S.S. Pandian, Seyyed Hossein Nasr, and Gopal Guru. He is the author of Tharkolaigalai Kondaduvom and Sanyasamum Theendamayum. He was formerly a theatre activist and has directed plays of Bertolt Brecht, Kingsley Bass (Jr.), and Siegfried Lenz.

This book offers a fascinating and complex reading of the conceptual and historical genesis of untouchability and the making of the notion of a Brahmin. Rooted in philosophical and textual analysis, the book draws on interesting empirical accounts to offer a nuanced and complex understanding of these processes in relation to the larger structure of caste. Originally published in Tamil, this is a fresh and critical voice that will raise new questions in the study of caste in India. —Sundar Sarukkai

Highlighting the similarity between the renounced Brahmin body and dead body; pointing out how the negative state of renouncer becomes an ideal state with Adi Samkara who laid the foundation of a new institute, namely, the mutt; how subject centred nature of touch-un-ability is untranslatable: these are the novel ideas in the book, and these can both shed a better light and complicate the existing discussions on the reform and radical movement in India. —A. Raghuramaraju

Renunciation and Untouchability in India The Notional and the Empirical in the Caste Order Srinivasa Ramanujam

First published 2020 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 Srinivasa Ramanujam The right of Srinivasa Ramanujam to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-1-138-59455-5 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-31765-1 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by Apex CoVantage LLC

To my parents, Rajalakshmi and S.K. Srinivasan

Contents

Foreword by Sundar Sarukkaiix Acknowledgementsxi

Introduction: notional Brahmin and the idea of original

1

1 The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being

15

2 Physical body and social body

43

3 Brahmin householder as renouncer

63

4 Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin

87

5 Translating touch-un-ability

109



159

Conclusion: the dead being is still alive

Bibliography163 Index169

Foreword

I first heard of Ramanujam when he wrote to me asking for permission to translate the two pieces on untouchability which were written by Gopal Guru and myself, and published in the EPW. In following up with him on this matter, he informed me about the book he was writing in Tamil on the question of untouchability and sanyasis. He sent me some readings of some texts that he had used for this research and I was very much struck by the breadth of the thought in these ideas. Later when his book, titled Sanyasamum Theendamayum, was published in Tamil, I saw a copy of it. I could immediately see that it was a complex text as Ramanujam had drawn not only on three writers dominantly but also had included a host of many other texts. I was delighted to hear later that this book won two prestigious awards for the best non-fiction book in Tamil – one from Ananda Vikatan and the other from the newspaper The Hindu. Ramanujam’s text in Tamil was not easy for me to understand, which only reflected my distance from reading literary texts in Tamil. However, I had the opportunity to talk to him about the work more than once, often on the phone and sometimes on the rare occasions that we could meet. The first thing that struck me was his scholarship and erudition. I learnt much from his reading of the texts, not only about the depth of the work of Olivielle and Veena Das, but also from his interpretation and helpful criticism of my reflections on the metaphysics of untouchability. I was aware that in my approach to the phenomenology of untouchability, there was a lack of empirical data to support some of the implications inherent in my thesis. This book rectifies that lack more than amply. My work was also incomplete in that I had not set out to define who is a Brahmin in completeness but only pointed to the idea of untouchability that seemed to be crucial to certain aspects of Brahminism. So there were really two tasks: one the connection to empirical material to make sense of philosophical approaches to untouchability and two, the larger project of defining who a Brahmin really could be. This is precisely what Ramanujam does so admirably in this book and in doing so, is not only elevating the theoretical understanding of what a Brahmin could be but also adds a very rich account from historical and cultural texts. He finds an excellent connection between

x  Foreword three seemingly disparate works by Patrick Olivelle, Veena Das, and myself, and by critically engaging with them as well finding the shortcomings, he is able to synthesise a most interesting and provocative account of the notion of being-a-Brahmin. Most importantly, he finds the sanyasi tradition as the common fulcrum around which to bring these texts together. Given Ramanujam’s own trajectory as an activist, he is sensitive to the fact that the definition of a Brahmin cannot be restricted to some theoretical formulation alone. He begins with the observation of the historical changes in the idea of a Brahmin through the ages as also the self-ascription of themselves by the Brahmin, a ‘privilege’ not given to the Sudras. He also, along with the general tenor of Gopal Guru’s and my work, locates untouchability as a crucial term in any understanding of Brahmin. Thus, this book is a complex intertwining of extremely interesting ideas from a variety of sources. But at its source, it is a consistent and penetrating philosophical enquiry into the defining idea of a Brahmin. The discussion on the mutts is an excellent illustration of the breadth of this approach. Ramanujam points out that there were hundreds of mutts in Tamil Nadu already from the 12th century created by Brahmin and non-Brahmin. How do we understand this historical process? Ramanujam invokes the discussion on translation and ideas of the original in translation studies to understand this historical process. This book is indeed an extremely rich compendium of ideas and scholarship. It raises many profound and fundamental questions in our reading and understanding of caste, jati, Brahmin, non-Brahmin, sanyasi, and untouchability. It is provocative and insightful, and demands serious attention from the reading public. Sundar Sarukkai

Acknowledgements

I wrote the earlier version of this book, Sanyasamum Theendamayum, in Tamil and published it in 2016. This English version is not the translation of Tamil work. Though I started it as a translation, during the process, I thought that the arguments could be developed further. I thought it would be more meaningful to discuss the ‘idea of Brahmin’ through the philosophy of translation. This naturally led me to look into the relationship between the mutts and jatis. Once I got this framework of translating the idea of Brahmin, the mode and tone of the chapters already written underwent drastic changes. Prof. Sundar Sarukkai’s essay ‘Phenomenology of Untouchability’ made it possible to philosophically understand the difference between the notions of purity-pollution and untouchability by differentiating the phenomenological experience of ‘contact’ and ‘touch’. Prof. Sarukkai’s essay enabled me to connect with Prof. Patrick Olivelle’s scholarly readings and translations of the ancient and medieval Sanskrit texts. When the Tamil book was published, I sent a copy to Prof. Sarukkai. He read the book and shared with me his comments. Then, when I met him at the National Institute of Advanced Studies (NIAS), he suggested that I must write this book in English. I really did not know how to take his suggestion, and he must have sensed my uneasiness. Discussing the book with him was thought-provoking, and I was really stunned by the uncomplicated way he put forth his ideas. That meeting was a great learning experience for me. When we were having lunch, he again insisted that I must write this book in English. I decided to share my reservations with him. I told him that I had not written even a one-thousand-word article in English and that it was beyond my imagination and capability. Further, I was an ‘outsider’ to the academic world, its language, and its protocols of presentation. I was trained neither in social science, nor in philosophy, nor in history. I told him all this and more. He listened to everything patiently and said, ‘just write; other things will take care of its own’. He was right. But I did not know how right he was at that time. Since that moment, he has been generous enough to support me at each and every stage.

xii  Acknowledgements After completion of the final manuscript, I thought if Prof. Sarukkai wrote the foreword, it would give this project a sense of completeness. When I requested it of him, he accepted without any hesitation. In a nutshell, this book would not have been possible without Prof. Sundar Sarukkai, and whatever terms I use to express my gratitude, they will be insufficient to reflect the generosity and commitment he showed. It would not have been possible to locate Prof. Sarukkai’s touch-un-­ability thesis in the theological debates within Brahmanism without the scholarly reading and translations by Prof. Patrick Olivelle. When I was writing the Tamil version, I needed two volumes of his Renunciation in Hinduism: A Medieval Debate. When I wrote him requesting a copy, he helped immediately. He was also generous enough to read the manuscript of this book, in spite of his ongoing projects, and offer critical feedback. I wish to express my gratitude to Prof. Patrick Olivelle. I also take this opportunity to thank Prof. Olivelle, Prof. Linda Hess, and Prof. John Hawley for giving permissions to use their translations. During a workshop conducted by Prof. Sundar Sarukkai in Ninasam, I got a chance to interact with Prof. A. Raghuramaraju. One quiet evening in Ninasam, when we were talking about my Tamil book, he asked me to put forward my arguments and listened patiently. Then, he encouraged me to write this book in English and assured me that he would support it in all possible ways, and he did give his full support. He read the manuscript and offered critical comments. I am grateful to him. I also thank Prof. Gopal Guru, who never failed to ask how the book project was going whenever we met. Many others have directly or indirectly supported me in completing this book. In particular, I would like to thank Prof. Thanga Jeyaraman. Despite his age and other commitments, he went through the entire manuscript, and his meticulous comments made this book a lot better in language and presentation. I wish to thank Varun Bhatta, a research scholar at the NIAS, who always made me comfortable whenever I visited him there, for going through the earlier draft and giving his comments and suggestions. I also wish to thank Prof. Nitesh Surendramohan Chaudhary, Nirmal University, who went through the manuscript and gave his valuable comments. In spite of all the support and generous help of the academic community, the limitations of this book are solely mine. The debts I incurred while working on this project cannot be easily paid back. I take this opportunity to thank Samas (Op-Ed Editor, The Hindu – Tamil) for his friendship and support. I thank Rengaiah Murugan, from whose vast knowledge on non-Brahmin mutts in Tamil Nadu I benefitted greatly. I thank the editorial team of Routledge, for their care and concern in bringing out this book. The book Sanyasamum Theendamayum was awarded the best book in a non-fiction category by Ananda Vikatan in 2016. In 2017, The Hindu, Lit

Acknowledgements xiii for Life − Tamil award was given for this book. I take this opportunity to thank both Ananda Vikatan and The Hindu − Tamil. Finally, I wish to thank my friends Balaji, Ramasamy, Jeevamani, Balan, Senthil, and my colleague Ezhil Kumar, who are always willing to support me in whatever way possible. Most importantly, I wish to thank my family, Padmini, Manu, and Vibu, for their understanding, patience, and encouragement in all of my activities.

Introduction Notional Brahmin and the idea of original

I attempt to make sense of the caste order, the mode of relationships between discrete jatis, the very idea of Brahmin, and the practice of untouchability through these two questions: 1 Why is it in Indian society that jatis as coherent units are able to raise against the claims of the empirical Brahmins but not against the practice of untouchability? The ethical move towards the issue of untouchability is always at an individual level and never at the level of the jatis. Why is that the ethical move of the reformers, for example, Ramanuja, Basavanna, or Kabir, of the medieval period, questioning the practice of untouchability, could not be sustained once the followers of these reformers consolidated themselves as a coherent group (sect/jati)? 2 Why, when Brahmins are at the apex of the social pyramid and the untouchables at the base of it are held in antagonistic relationship with the bulk of the jatis in the middle, is the element of violence mostly directed towards the untouchables with only a few instances or no cases of violence towards the self-excluding group of Brahmins?1 We cannot address these two questions either from the hierarchical structure of the varna scheme or from the anthropological matrix of purity-pollution. Though both frameworks are structured around a single apex, the Brahmins, how do we make sense of these two questions? Definition of the term ‘Brahmin’, though a complex issue, is definitely not static across centuries. Given the Brahmins’ self-defined position as the classifiers of society, it is but natural that they locate themselves at the apex of the social pyramid in their narratives. Through these narratives, several attempts are made to define what the term ‘Brahmin’ denotes. But the narratives of the Brahmin intellectuals are not uncontested. The term ‘Brahmin’ denotes a social category, an aggregate of jatis, and something more. The term ‘Brahmin’ denotes the social category (varna) and social group (identified as Brahmin jatis) and it is also the self-definition of a set of people who identify themselves as Brahmins. This is the essential problem of what the term ‘Brahmin’ denotes. The narrative around these three, though it is not based on any single premise,

2  Introduction has extraordinary continuity. On the contrary, the category of Sudra is not the self-ascription of the set of individuals who are located in this category. This is also the narrative of the Brahmins. The non-Brahmin sects and jatis, surely, contest the narrative of the Brahmins. We can say that, as Paul Starr does, ‘out of the myriad differences among persons, roles, groups, and other formations in complex societies, only a small number, defined in specific ways, are accepted as legitimate categories in politics, law and official statistics’ (1992). Categories are basically hierarchical. Conceptual boundaries are created to sustain the status of the category. If we take ‘Brahmin’ as a category, as Veena Das (2012) points out, it cannot have a meaningful existence unless it is related to other categories. Every category evolves and is dependent on the other categories for its very existence. A category does not have any inherent characteristics independent of other categories. The characteristic features of each category evolve through contradiction, conflict, dialogue, and compromise with other categories. Further, all social categories are based on certain notions of self, society, nature, and the cosmos. Categorisation is done from a particular worldview, and the lifeworld of the categories continuously defines and re-defines the worldview that created a particular category. Categories have lives of their own and construct their own narratives about the self, society, nature, and the cosmos. As Starr (1992: 264) notes, categories adopted for these institutional purposes do not float above the society in a ‘superstructure’ of mental life. They are sewn into the fabric of the economy, society, and the state. They are ‘entrenched’ . . . in the very structure of the institutions. He further adds that ‘categories accumulate. We neither ordinarily think about or act upon categories of social life; we act and think with them’ (ibid.: 264–265). Though categories are essentially notional, they get a life of their own through institutionalisation and play a vital role in defining and safeguarding the boundaries of the subject’s body which is located in a given category. The human body becomes the site where the ideals and anxieties of the category are made corporeal. However, the categories are always socially, morally, theologically, and philosophically challenged either from within the same worldview or from outside. In this process, as Starr classifies, we have two actors – the classifier and the classified (ibid.: 269). In the Indian context, Brahmins become classifiers and the others, the classified. As Starr explains in the classification of nature, the mode of relationship between humans and nature is one way. Nature cannot protest, contest, or challenge. But the social classification is always contested and challenged. Further, categorisation and assigning go together (ibid.). Assigning is nothing but concretisation of categories. Social groups and individuals not only identify with the categorical ideals and manifest their anxieties, but also redefine the ideals of the category

Introduction 3 because of both internal conflict and external contestation. Each category sustains itself through contradiction and compromises with other categories. For example, in the varna scheme, the term ‘Brahmin’ as a category will not be complete without proper assigning of the Sudra. A ‘classifier’ gets institutionalised power only through the creation of the ‘classified’. The ‘classified’ reinforces the ‘classifier’. The category of ascetics reinforces the householder; Sudra reinforces Brahmin, the incorporeal reinforces the corporeal. Brahmanism has all along operated along the axes of dualities: Brahmin/Sudra, Brahmin/ascetic, householder/renouncer, ritual state/non-ritual state, human action/human inaction, culture/anti-culture, group/individual, aranya/city, human/animal, contact/touch, touch/un-touch, corporeal/incorporeal, life/death. The dynamic relationship in the dualities must be seen as the internal dialogue within the Brahmanical worldview. The internal dialogue makes a particular category alive, legitimate, and meaningful. The unification of all dualities becomes a possibility only when the category closes itself completely. This is what happened to what the term ‘Brahmin’ denoted. The idea of Brahmin, above all dualities, became an ‘ideal’ Brahmin, a ‘dead being’. The ‘ideal’ Brahmin closes his body and loses the very fundamental sense of any human being, the sense of touch. Only the dead being can possess un-touch sense. The site of untouchability is this dead being, an ideal Brahmin with un-touch sense. Unless we attempt to define the practice of untouchability conceptually, we cannot have any conceptual understanding of the relationship between discrete jatis. Untouchability is not the off-shoot of the notions of purity and pollution. Notions of purity and pollution are not related to the sense of touch or untouch. They define the mode of contact and not touch. Similarly, jatis are not the off-shoot of the varna scheme. The anxieties of Brahmins expressed in the Dharmasastric texts are not related to untouchability. They are categorical anxieties and relate to notions of purity and pollution. To conceptualise untouchability, we need to focus on the corporeal body that exhibits this un-ability. That is, we need to focus on the sanyasi tradition in Brahmanism. Untouchability cannot be understood conceptually without locating the dead being in the Brahmanical worldview. Untouchability is not the extreme form of differentiation in the caste order. Further, untouchability is not the by-product of the caste system. Untouchability is the essence. I wish to argue that untouchability is the thread that unites the discrete jatis into a single whole, the caste order. Jatis sustains themselves in between these two positions: the idea of the notional Brahmin and the practice of untouchability. I use the term ‘caste order’ as the summation and objective manifestation of the subjective self-definition of discrete jatis and jati subjects. The idea of the Brahmin and the practice of untouchability are not dependent on who is going to provide empirical substantiation. Without a set of people identified as Brahmins and as untouchables the discrete jatis cannot exist in the caste order. The people who are going to provide empirical substantiation for the notional Brahmin and the empirical untouchables may change with

4  Introduction a period, and this mobility was there in caste order, at least until colonial modernity. Let us take two examples to see how some people are included in the category of Brahmin and how some moved out of this category. Bhaktavatsala Bharathi (2008: 122) shows us how a set of people were brought into the category of Brahmin: During the times of Mayura Varma of Kadamba dynasty, some Brahmins from Andhra (Telugu speaking) are brought to southern Karnataka. For sacrifice, they would not identify the required number of Brahmins. Because of this the Brahmins from Andhra selected some social groups and converted them as Brahmins. They also gave the family name (gotra) to them. Similarly, Gananath Obeyseskare in his seminar paper ‘The Coming of Brahmin Migrants: The Sudra Fate of an Indian Elite in Sri Lanka’ (2013) examines the status of Brahmins who migrated to Sri Lanka. Obeyseskare explains that ‘there are the Brahmins who come from South India as Purohitas and as a popular ritual specialist and there are those Brahmins who have been “Sinhalacized” and incorporated into the operative caste system as Goyigama (the dominant farmer caste)’. He further states that the Purohitas and ritual specialists became Kapurala jati. As far as this jati is concerned, Obeyseskare writes, ‘they have lost status recently. However, even in the fifties, they were highly respected members of village society. Further, it is possible that a few Brahmin ritual specialists might have descended in the caste ladder’ (ibid.). To get a sense of this, we need to know how Sinhalese society is categorised.2 One text classifies the society as Raja, Bamunu (Brahmin), Velenda (traders or Hetti), and Govi (farmers or Goyigama). The Sri Lankan society had been formalised into these four broad classes or Kulas. Although ‘the ideal scheme puts the Goyigama at the bottom of the local caste hierarchy, they soon became the dominant caste’. He further states that since Goyigama controlled the lands and had a major influence on the society, even those who claimed ‘Ksatriya, Brahmana and Hetti descent eventually became Goyigama’. Another Sinhalese text classifies the society as Raja, Situ (noble merchants), Bamunu (Brahmins), and Velenda (traders). In the same text, at another place, Situ (setthi) is dropped and Govi (farmers) substituted. Yet another text has a different Kula classification: Raja, Brahmana, Vyaparayo (traders), and Govi (Goyigama). But this text defines Goyigama as hinajatiyo (low jati). Obseyeskare, finally, observes that Brahmins who became Goyigama would not escape the Sudra fate. Apart from the above, Obseyeskare describes an interesting story about a drummer, whose ancestors might have been Brahmins who migrated to Sri Lanka. Many years ago I knew a fine performer of Bali (planetary rituals) belonging to the drummer caste in a remote village near Sigiriya, part

Introduction 5 of old Vanni, who was generally addressed and known as BhattaGurunanse. The latter part of the term – Gurunnanse – simply meant ‘lordly guru’ and was often used as an honorific for any male member of the drummer caste, a caste that plays drums in festivals and also performs a variety of healing rituals, especially Bali. Bhatta, however, is a very unusual term for drummers, and it struck me, as I write this essay, that Bhatta-Gurunnanse might have had a Brahmin ancestor simply because Bhatta is often prefixed to Brahmin names all over India. Bhatta-Gurunnanse was the last member of a distinguished line of Bali performers, and alas, he died many years ago, and I am not sure I will ever be able to verify my hypothesis of the Brahmin origin of his family name. (ibid.) Similar examples can be given for the untouchables. In the lifeworld, it is very difficult to get into the category of Brahmin and much more difficult to get out of the category of the untouchable. Theoretically speaking, more than who is going to constitute a Brahmin or an untouchable, it is the very idea of the Brahmin and the untouchable that makes the caste order. The relationship between discrete jatis is nothing but the inherent tension of the jati in locating itself between these two ideas and when we say discrete jatis it includes Brahmin jatis, non-Brahmin jatis, Dalit jatis, and non-Dalit jatis. If I can generalise, I wish to say that no single jati, be it a Brahmin jati or non-Brahmin jati or Dalit jati or non-Dalit jati, can locate itself outside this tension. The discrete jatis are an essential part of the tension between the idea of Brahmin and the practice of untouchability. The jatis manifest the inherent tension between these two positions. How does this tension manifest socially? Each and every non-Brahmin sects and Dalit sect in India, including the Brahmin sects, attempt to recover the true meaning of the idea of Brahmin. The act of translation gets completed once they inherit the touch-un-ability of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. This completion creates the boundaries of sects/jatis and defines the body of the jati subject. In this process of recovering the true meaning of the idea of Brahmin, the dead being attains the status of a source or an original. The act of translation is always connected with the idea of an original. The continuous attempts in the ancient period, in the medieval period, to translate, to recover the true meaning of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, creates and recreates the idea of Brahmin in different forms and structures. Through this act of translation, the sects and the jatis manifest the intricate process of ‘incorporation’ and ‘differentiation’. These two are not separate and independent processes. These two acts are not only intrinsically connected, but they also reinforce each other. The act of translation simultaneously creates objects for an un-touch sense and defines the subject. The objects for touch-un-ability of the subject must be within the limits of the given order. These objects cannot be located outside the boundary of the given order.

6  Introduction In this context, it will be useful to discuss Dipankar Gupta’s ‘Continuous Hierarchies and Discrete Castes’ (2010). Gupta is categorical that jatis cannot be structured hierarchically and states that conceptualising jatis in the hierarchy are ‘a reflection of our uncritical acceptance of the ideology of the privileged castes’ (ibid.: 113). He attempts to see jatis as discrete units. He argues that in spite of the fact that castes are discrete, they form a system because each caste in spite of its own idiosyncratic articulations of the caste ideology nevertheless uses identical elements and positions itself with reference to a notion of the hierarchy whose nodes appear and reappear in different ideological formulations. (ibid.: 121) Gupta does not attempt to define the ‘identical elements and positions’. Similarly, in the introduction to the volume that he edited (Gupta, 2010) he writes that the ‘natural superiority, in this case, is not physical prowess or intelligence, though these often work their way in, but the endowment of bodily purity’ (ibid.: 2). If ‘natural superiority’ is endowed with bodily purity, then we need to consider not only the metaphysics of the body but also the metaphysics of purity and pollution. Furthermore, he states that ‘the criterion for differentiation may be one, but the social display of differentiation usually includes a host of factors’ (ibid.). We need to ask what does the ‘differentiation may be one’ really mean? Further, Gupta rejects the hierarchical framework and argues that jatis are essentially discrete units. But how can discrete character make a single whole, the caste order? He writes that, Continuous hierarchies are built around a single criterion which is shared to a greater or lesser extent by all those who occupy that hierarchy. Other factors need not be adduced to it to justify the ranking. Discrete categories are different. A Proletariat is not merely not a bourgeois but made up of singular defining characteristic or characteristics not shared by a bourgeois. A Bengali is simply not a non-Maharashtrian, or a Bania is not simply a non-Brahmin. Therefore the criteria that separate discrete categories or classes cannot be simply understood by the presence or absence of any criterion or attribute. (ibid.: 117) What are those ‘principles in common’ and ‘differentiation’ that run through the sects/jatis? I fully agree with Gupta that the inherent quality of the jatis is not hierarchical in nature, and I also agree with him that theoretically, the jatis are discrete units. However, they are not unconnected entities, and they contribute and conform to some ‘principles in common’. I wish to put forth the thesis that ‘sharing some principles in common’ is the act of recovering

Introduction 7 the true meaning of the idea of Brahmin, and ‘differentiation’ is appropriating the touch-un-ability of the source or an original. Untouchability is related to the metaphysics of the body, the notional body, the incorporeal body and not with the superiority of the ritual purity.

*** This book attempts to connect the readings of Patrick Olivelle, Veena Das, and Sundar Sarukkai to develop a historically informed phenomenology of jati and untouchability. I draw heavily from these three scholars. My aim is to understand and interrelate these scholars’ readings and re-narrate them through the axis of the idea of Brahmin and the practice of untouchability. Patrick Olivelle attempts to locate the contradiction between Brahmanism and other systems like Buddhism and Jainism not in the binary framework of Vaidika/a-vaidika or Aryan/non-Aryan, but by placing the contradiction that got manifested in the early Upanisadic period through the axes of the village-city, group-individual, householder-ascetic. Within Brahmanism, the fundamental contradiction is between the city-centric individualised ascetic worldviews and village-centric householder worldviews. Similarly, Veena Das, based on her reading of a 14th–15th-century text from Gujarat, Dharmaranya Purana, locates the relationship between the social categories in the Brahmin-king-renouncer axis. She also argues that the relationships between discrete jatis are based on untouchability. This is an important thesis that has not been further explored in caste and untouchability studies. Sundar Sarukkai put forth the thesis that the notion of untouchability is essential to the self-making of the Brahmin. Sarukkai’s philosophical reading of untouchability connects the work of Olivelle and Das. Sarukkai argues that touch-un-ability is the inherent component of the very self-making of a Brahmin and this has to be located in the ‘ideal Brahmin’. All the three scholars bring into focus one essential component that has not received the attention it deserves in caste and untouchability studies: sanyasi tradition. The importance of this tradition has not been acknowledged though it played a vital part in self-definition of the jatis and in the self-making of the jati subjects. The impact this tradition had on the Indian subcontinent’s social and political structures, even in modern times, cannot be wished away.3 Further, without locating the role played by the sanyasi tradition in Brahmanism, we could not properly understand the medieval reform movements, be it of Brahmins or non-Brahmins and Dalits. Unless we conceptually approach these movements as dialogues within the Brahmanical tradition, we cannot make sense of the formations of various mutts, an association of sects/jatis. Even the ascetic tradition in Buddhism and Jainism has not been approached as part of the larger theological debate. Olivelle’s scholarly readings bring out the dynamics of these dialogues. I wish to state that we need to understand the sanyasi tradition properly to understand not only the idea of the Brahmin but also the caste order and the practice of untouchability.

8  Introduction The role of mutts in the caste order is another area that has not been explored sufficiently. Though there are some books on this subject, the mutts are not positioned within the larger Brahmanical worldview related to the formation and sustaining of jatis and the practice of untouchability. Important insights related to mutts and sects/jatis are provided by the authors in the volume edited by Narayanan and Creel (1990) and in the essays by A.M. Shah (2006) and Aye Ikegame (2010). I attempt to connect the readings of these authors to the idea of the Brahmin and the practice of untouchability. I prefer to call the monastic institutions in the ‘Hindu’ tradition sect/jati mutts. Karashima, Subbarayalu, and Shanmugam (2010, 2011) note that in the 12th century alone, 174 mutts are formed in the Tamil speaking region. These mutts are created both by Brahmin and non-Brahmin reformers. How do we relate the formation of such a huge number of mutts to the caste order and untouchability? I wish to argue that the formation of mutts are but attempts to recover the true meaning of the idea of the Brahmin. All existing mutts are evaluated as ‘bad translations’, and a fresh attempt is made to recover their true meaning. These mutts, either of Brahmins or non-Brahmins, are not against the idea of the Brahmin. The claim is that the existing translations are not faithful to the original and that their translation is more truthful. But in the act of translation or recovering the true meaning, one essential feature of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, the touch-un-ability, lies hidden. A sect/jati becomes a coherent unit only by appropriating this hidden feature. The criticism that the existing translations are bad is basically related to this hidden feature, and the true translation gets complete only by appropriating this hidden feature. That is why we have many jatis associated with the single sect, and a single jati contains people associated with multiple sects. All three scholars, Olivelle, Das, and Sarukkai, attempt to understand the idea of the Brahmin in the renouncer Brahmin. This is really an ironic position. The basic moral framework of Vedic Brahmanism is householdermale. The entire worldview of Vedic Brahmanism revolves around the householder-male. We can raise a logical question: if the ascetic tradition is the basis of untouchability then why did Buddhism and Jainism, which are also built on an ascetic tradition, not produce untouchability? To understand this, we need to understand the differences between the ascetic traditions of Buddhism, Jainism, and Brahmanism. I believe that Olivelle’s reading will support Sarukkai’s thesis that the notion of the ‘ideal Brahmin’ is the source of untouchability. Sarukkai gives the example of Vaishnava Acharyas. These Acharyas define themselves as pretas (ghosts), that is, they cannot touch others and also cannot be touched by others. In the act of touching there is no subject-object duality. Even the Brahmins cannot touch their Acharya. We can ask if this is because of imputed sacredness. But, the leftover food prepared for Acharyas is not allowed to be eaten even by a stray dog because it is seen as a poison and hence it is always buried. If we take this practice, followed even today, into account, the sacredness thesis will not hold good. Here, the Acharya’s body becomes a visible symbol

Introduction 9 of danger. The Acharya’s corporeal body encompasses both the Brahmin, who is always defined in terms of ritual status, and the sanyasi, who is always defined in terms of non-ritual status. We have two different social bodies in the single physical body. Of these two, who, the Brahmin or a sanyasi, becomes preta? Olivelle does not raise this question. I wish to argue that this is fundamental to understanding the touch-un-ability of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. Further, why should Brahmanism which is essentially centred on a ­householder-male, define as its ideal the sanyasi, a dead being, one who cannot touch or be touched? It took many centuries for this transformation from householder to sanyasi as ideal Brahmin (‘ideal-untouchable’). To understand this transformation, we need to look into the inherent characteristic of the sanyasi tradition in Brahmanism. The way the sanyasi is defined in Brahmanism is vital to understand the notion of ‘ideal Brahmin’. Secondly, we can also ask why the Acharyas cannot be touched even by the Brahmins. We cannot understand this through the purity-pollution matrix or through the categorical anxieties expressed in Dharma literature. To conceptually understand this practice, we need to focus on how the Brahmanical tradition interpreted the physical body. The Buddhist worldview argued that the physical body is essentially impure and, hence, devaluing the body becomes prerequisite for liberation. The renouncer tradition in Brahmanism also saw the human body itself as impure and raised questions related to touch and not related to contact. Though Buddhism defined certain people as low jatis (enajati), they are not subjected to untouchability, because Buddhism did not problematise the issue of touch. People identified as enajatis are not touched because they are treated as the by-product of the given order, like, say, Candalas. The human waste is the by-product of the body system. Hence, we have inhibitions about touching it. So, if untouchability is understood as the result of purity-pollution, then we need to know how the notion of purity is defined in Brahmanism. Purity and pollution are mirrorimages of each other. One cannot exist without the other. Impurity or dirt, as Mary Douglas argues, is the by-product of the given order. The notions of purity and pollution are essentially related to the issues of ‘contact’. Contact entails a subject-object duality which the sense of touch does not. Contact is dependent on the fixation of boundaries and made real through bodily anxieties. This leads us to ask how a physical body becomes a social body. That is, we need to focus on how an ‘ideal’ Brahmin body is constructed and also how the un-touch sense4 becomes corporeal. In summary, I wish to argue that though the un-touch sense is related to the notional body, the dead being, its empirical manifestation, is possible only by completely closing the living body, which embodies the dead being. In short, untouchability is basically subject-centric and it not related to subject-object duality.

*** The word ‘jati’ in Indian languages has many connotations, and it is always problematic to use the English words ‘caste’ and ‘sub-caste’. This problem

10  Introduction has been highlighted by Inden and Marriott (1977: 227–238), and they rightly question the usage of ‘caste’ for ‘jati’: The South Asian word jati refers to a great many kinds of things other than those we mean by the word ‘caste’. It refers to all sorts of categories of things – sets of colours and sound, for example; it includes living creatures generated from seeds, from moisture, from eggs, and from wombs. Jati means a whole range of earthly population that we call families, kin groups, genders, occupational categories, speakers of the same language, regional populations, religious communities, nations, races; it encompasses the categories of gods in their heavens, demon, etc. (in Ganguly, 2005: 3–4) Hence, I prefer using the word ‘jati’ for discrete groups and ‘caste’ when it is addressed as a single whole. Generally, when we talk about caste, we interpolate the present characteristic feature of the jatis to the past. This definitely cannot be so, because the metaphysical understanding of the body has changed over the centuries. Hence, based on how the renouncer and the householder are conceptualised, I would like to differentiate it into three phases: Pre-Sankara, post-Sankara, and colonial/post-colonial. In the first phase, the imaginary of the Brahmin thinkers is focused on categories, and the differentiation between social groups are based on notions of purity and pollution, occupation, wealth, and similar parameters. The differentiation is not based on untouchability. The Dharma literature expresses categorical anxieties. These anxieties are premised on people who cannot be contacted, hence not-touched. When people are not-touched, it does not mean they are subjected to untouchability. In this period, the idea of Brahmin and the idea of renouncer are two distinct entities, one in ritual state and other in the non-ritual state. In the second phase, post-Sankara, touch-un-ability becomes a conceptual and empirical reality. Differentiation based on notions of purity and pollution, occupation, status is defined and redefined through the subject’s touch-unability. The boundaries of discrete jatis are determined through untouchability. In this period the imaginary is focused more on social groups than on categories, and the Brahmin and the sanyasi are unified as one single whole. They are not different entities as in the previous phase. The subject becomes a jati subject. The third phase refers to the colonial and post-colonial period. We can call these political jatis. In this period the imaginary is based on the nation-state, democracy and civil rights, and equality and social justice. Each phase appropriates the characteristic feature of the preceding phase. In this book, I focus only on the first two phases. Even when discussing Ambedkar and Gandhi, I am limiting myself only to the issues associated

Introduction 11 with the first two phases, though these two thinkers had issues between them that are concerned with the third phase also.

*** The first chapter addresses the issue of how the ascetic tradition evolved within Brahmanism, the conflict between the householder-centred village Brahmins and individualised city Brahmins, by consolidating Olivelle’s translations and scholarly readings. The non-ritual state of the ascetic becomes the very antithesis of the ritual state of the householder. This chapter consolidates the attempts made to embody the householder Brahmin in renouncer Brahmin, and the renouncer Brahmin in householder Brahmin. The Brahmin thinkers problematise the issue of how a Brahmin can be a Brahmin in the non-ritual state, and this was the central question in Samnyasa Upanisads. Sankara attempted to address this central question by defining the ‘ideal’ Brahmin as one who is not only without any external emblems but also not bounded to varnasramadharma. If so, where do we locate the householder Brahmin within the Brahmanical worldview? This issue was resolved when the householder Brahmins (ritual state) became signifiers, and the sanyasi (non-ritual state) became signified. That is, a Brahmin in the non-ritual state becomes the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. The signified, that is a Brahmin in the non-ritual state, can be only a dead being. The second chapter attempts to address the issue related to the physical body and the social body. The focus of this chapter is to differentiate between the notions of purity-pollution and untouchability. Again consolidating the readings of Dharma literature − those of Olivelle, in particular − I wish to argue that the categorical anxieties found in the Dharma literature are not related to the practice of untouchability. The Brahmanical householder perspective sees the human body as essentially pure but always threatened by impurities from outside, whereas the renouncer perspective sees the physical body as essentially impure and hence completely rejects the notion of purity and pollution. I argue that the householder body is concerned with issues relating to ‘contact’ and the renouncer body is concerned with issues relating to ‘touch’. The notions of purity and pollution are issues relating to ‘contact’ and not to ‘touch’ or ‘untouch’. The third chapter consolidates Veena Das’s reading of the Dharmaranya Purana with the question of why there is no sanyasi in the Purana. Das does not raise this question. I argue that the Purana cannot have a sanyasi as a separate entity, such as, say, Buddhist or Jain monks in the Purana, since this Purana was composed long after the theological unification of the householder Brahmin and the renouncer Brahmin. Das reads this Purana through the categorical partitions of king-Brahmin-renouncer, though the last two are basically embedded in a single Brahmin body. Further, based on Das’s

12  Introduction reading, this chapter discusses how discrete jatis differentiate themselves based on untouchability. This Purana, in a way, summarises Olivelle’s reading in the first two chapters. In the fourth chapter, I consolidate Sundar Sarukkai’s philosophical reading of untouchability. The phenomenological difference between ‘contact’ and ‘touch’, as explained by Sarukkai, is correlated with the notions of purity and pollution and touch-related ability and un-ability. His thesis that touchun-ability is always subject-centric locates the source of untouchability in the Acharya, an ‘ideal’ Brahmin, a dead being. The ‘ideal’ Brahmin supplements the community of Brahmins and this community carries the impurities of the dead being. To avoid being a ‘pure’ untouchable, supplemented untouchables are created. Sarukkai argues that the creation of supplemented untouchables is not limited to a set of people identified as Dalits. It is related to the creation of the objects for this particular metaphysical sense. In the last chapter, I try to relate the above readings and make sense of how the idea of the Brahmin became an original and how continuous attempts are made by various reformers from the medieval period to acquire the true meaning of the original. I try to argue that the formation of mutts is an attempt to translate the true meaning of the ideal Brahmin. The frequent recourse to the position that the Brahmin jatis are not true to the meaning of the ideal Brahmin and, I argue, can be read as an act of translation. This phenomenon can be found not only in the non-Brahmin sects or Dalit sects but also among the Brahmins. The Ramanuja tradition is one example of this attempt to arrive at different translation. I also argue that in the act of translating the true meaning of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, the essence of the dead being, the un-touch becomes part of the subject. I attempt to correlate this with Sarukkai’s thesis of the untranslatability of mathematics. Sarukkai argues that the relation of the language of mathematics with the natural languages is essentially hidden or erased while ‘doing’ science. I attempt to relate this thesis to the translation of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. In the act of translating the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, the relation the ‘ideal’ Brahmin has with touch-un-ability remains hidden or erased. Further, I attempt to address how the subject-centric nature of touch-unability would not be translated either linguistically or socially. I discuss the differences between Gandhi and Ambedkar to address this issue. Ambedkar is ambivalent about locating the Dalits in the caste order. Are Dalits ‘inside’ the caste order or ‘outside’? As not touched people they are ‘outside’, and as discrete jatis, they are ‘inside’ the caste order. Objects for un-touch sense cannot be outside the given order. This argument is related to the untranslatability of the subject-centric nature of touch-un-ability. But, Dalits must be within the caste order for Gandhi, to liberate himself from his touch-un-­ ability. I argue that in the process the objects for un-touch sense are transformed into objects for a sense of touch, and the untouchables can never become an autonomous subject in the Gandhian world. This is a unique problem faced by the Dalits. This ambivalent position is not there among the non-Dalit jatis. As discrete jatis, Dalits are ‘inside’ the caste order. But they

Introduction 13 also signify one essential feature of the caste order. Similarly, Brahmins as discrete jatis are ‘inside’ the caste order. But they also signify another essential feature of the caste order. Since touch is one phenomenological aspect of contact, the issues related with touch must necessarily co-exist with issues related to contact. Ambedkar’s question of why the Dalits should remain an object for a subject’s liberation becomes more relevant in this context. I would like to argue that this conflict, between Gandhi and Ambedkar, has no easy resolution because the subject, as a jati subject, cannot liberate him/ herself from his/her touch-un-ability without the co-operation of the object, and the object can rightfully refuse to be an object for the subject’s liberation.

*** This book proposes a response to the two questions asked at the beginning. In the discourse on caste order, the location of the Brahmin is always notional (ideal Brahmin), never empirical (jatis), and the location of untouchable is always empirical (jatis). Touch-un-ability is the essential feature of the jati subject. Even in Tamil Nadu, where non-Brfahmin politics has been the cornerstone of modern politics, the Brahmins were approached notionally, whereas the untouchables were approached literally. The violence against the Dalit jatis and the violence within the Dalit jatis, in the post-colonial Tamil Nadu and other states, only shows how this mode of sustaining the jatis continues even today. I argue that the entire series of reform/revolt movements from the medieval period to the modern period is not against the idea of Brahmin. The criticism is that the empirical Brahmins are not true to the idea of Brahmins. This idea of bad translation becomes prerequisite to an attempt for another translation. Since the empirical Brahmins become a necessary component of the caste order, they are not against the empirical Brahmins. I see the anti-Brahmin or non-Brahmin articulations as attempts to recover the true meaning of the original, which is notional. The non-Brahmins cannot sustain themselves as coherent sects or jatis if they violently negate the empirical Brahmins. Similarly, jatis which include Brahmin, non-Brahmin, or Dalit jatis cannot sustain themselves as coherent units if they rise up against untouchability because if they do it is nothing but self-destruction of the very coherence that determines who they are. As long as touch-un-ability is the basis of sustaining the jatis, it will create its own forms of purity and pollution. Since it is basically subject-centric, it can take any form. The book suggests that the caste order or mode of relationship between jatis is not a by-product or off-shoot of the varna scheme or the consequence of the anthropological matrix of purity-pollution, but, rather, is defined by the subject’s touch-un-ability. The practice of untouchability even within the category of people defined as Dalits or within the category of people defined as Brahmins cannot be explained through varna or the purity-pollution framework. The technology that defines the boundary of jatis is untouchability, and that is always the part of the subject, not

14  Introduction the object. In other words, in caste order, the very enterprise of self-making is predicated on a subject-oriented limit set by untouchability with no definitive prescription of who would provide the empirical substantiation. This makes the caste order or the relationships between the discrete jatis a complex web. All said, the internal tension in caste order, the tension between the idea of Brahmin, and the practice of untouchability do not operate isolated from socio-economic and political structures. These socio-economic and political structures also manifest this internal tension of the caste order. At the same time, the lived experience of the Dalits makes discussing caste order strictly ‘theoretically’ unethical, because the lived human experiences are not taken into account. In response to Sarukkai’s thesis, Gopal Guru in his ‘Archaeology of Untouchability’ (2014) brings to the fore the Dalit’s lived experience, which is ethically valid. But the lived experience is so much interconnected that it becomes almost impossible to approach the caste order conceptually because touch-un-ability is deeply hidden in the life of every jati subject. My aim is to understand this inherent tension, between the idea of Brahmin and the manifestation of touch-un-ability.

Notes 1 Though the social, economic, and political power of the Brahmins and other dominant groups cannot be discounted, these are outside the scope of this book. 2 The difference in the categories adopted in India and Sri Lanka is interesting. In particular, we need to note that the Brahmanical worldview did not incorporate the land-owning communities into any meaningful category even in the medieval period. To know how Buddhism in India tried to classify the land-owning community see Chakravarthi (2006). 3 I prefer to see RSS, the Hindu right-wing group, as an attempt to redefine the mutts tradition to suit the era of nation-state. The core RSS is configured in the mode of Brahmin mutts, particularly Advatic mutts. In an interview with the Times of India (28 August 2018), Rakesh Sinha, a BJP parliamentarian in Rajya Sabha, says, ‘RSS does not give any importance to caste identity. Renouncement of Home and hearth detaches one from the caste and class background’. I also wish to call the traditional mutts as sect/jati mutts instead of Hindu mutts. 4 In Chapter 4, based on Sarukkai’s reading, the idea of un-touch sense and the difference between contact and touch are discussed in detail.

1 The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being

In his book The Hollow Crown: Ethnohistory of an Indian Kingdom, Nicholas Dirks (2008), writes about his experience with a Brahmin who was one among his ‘principal teachers, informants, consultants and friends’. That Brahmin, called PMS, was the retired head clerk of the Settlement Office. . . . He was the descendant of a family of srotriya or learned Brahmins who had been settled on fertile land in Pudukkottai State in the late eighteenth century by the Tondaiman Raja of the time. But, PMS himself was a laukika or secular Brahmin [householder Brahmin], educated in Shakespeare and British History at St. Joseph’s College, Trichy. (ibid.: xiii) PMS guided the completion of the Inam Settlement until his retirement from Government service in 1957. This Brahmin was hesitant to receive remuneration from Dirks for his services though he was not economically that well off. What do we make of this behaviour? Is it that of an ‘eccentric’ individual, which cannot be generalised, or as an individual, who manifests the inherent quality of something called Brahmin-ness? Now, in the words of Dirks: An honest bureaucrat and a true scholar, he was later helpful to academics and others who would come through Pudukkottai and stay for a time as guests of the royal family. He has helped me during my initial stay in the place years earlier, and he agreed to work with me again when I returned in 1981 for intensive fieldwork. But when I first arrived, he was hard to track down; despite his poverty, he refused to enter into any contractual arrangement, and aside from allowing me to pick up the tab for coffee, dosai, and bus trips, refused all payment. In the first few weeks he told me that he could not accept payment because he could not countenance being paid for simply sharing what he knew about the history, land system, and ethnology of Pudukottai: after all, this was the love of his life, and to sell his knowledge would be to prostitute his most valued treasure. (ibid.)

16  The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being At the same time, this Brahmin ensured that Dirks was dependent on him. He did not allow Dirks to meet other people who would offer their knowledge and also took him to the places of all his friends and relatives, eager to show the ‘more valued treasure’ he had got. Further, his eyes were failing him, and he was unable to read the 18th-century palm leafs. He also disappeared regularly. In spite of these uncomfortable experiences, Dirks was very particular to pay ‘some form of remuneration’ to him. So, Dirks handed over ‘an envelope full of wads of rupees and told him this was a gift, a dana’. This laukika Brahmin, who refused any remuneration, accepted the money as dana and told this story to Dirks: Some years before the Maharaja . . . called PMS to attend upon him. There was a problem with some lands belonging to the royal family, and PMS was asked to find the relevant records and prepare a brief for the family lawyer, who was himself unable to use the old land records of the state. PMS happily did what was asked, and when he had completed his services, the Raja called him over and asked him to take a 100 rupee note. PMS refused to accept it saying ‘O Maharaja, how can I accept payment from you when you are my king?’ The Tondaiman prince, puzzled to see an obviously poor man refuse the money, asked him why he stood on ceremony since he himself was no longer a Maharaja and these were no longer the days of rajadharma. PMS replied first by quoting Shakespeare, ‘Not all the waters of the rough, rude sea can wash away the balm from the anointed king’ . . . and then by telling the king what he meant to tell me by the recitation of the story: for the services that involve my knowledge, I accept no payment. (ibid.: xiv) The problem with this laukika Brahmin is, as Dirks notes, he could not accept formal remuneration for his services but was ready to accept the same remuneration as dana or a gift from Dirks, as he accepted the hundred rupees from the king. PMS would accept a dana from the king rather than campalam [remuneration] because a dana is ‘freely given’, without expectation of a return. It is not that he did not want to give a return – he offered it to begin with – but rather that he felt that the transaction of salary demeaned his offering, rendering it, too less than freely given. PMS also meant to say that even a king could not control him by contract and that in any case as a loyal subject he has no need to be controlled, thus recapitulating the conundrum of the Brahman’s relation with the king. (ibid.: xv) Why then is the Brahmin PMS ready to accept remuneration for this contribution, as a gift and not as a salary? It does not mean that the Brahmins do

The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being 17 not involve in an exchange relationship with society. Why is this Brahmin not willing to treat his knowledge as a commodity or his service as sell-able? A Brahmin who conducts rites for events like marriage, death is just selling his labour and knowledge like a washerman or a barber. How then does a Brahmin who is involved in exchange relations with society locate himself above everything and everyone, refusing to acknowledge the fact of the matter that his relationship is essentially based on exchange rules? The behaviour of the Brahmin in Dirks story does not manifest the eccentric behaviour of an individual Brahmin. This is fundamental to the very enterprise of a Brahmin-self. In short, PMS manifests the true ambivalent position of the Brahmins in their social relations. They are in exchange relations with a society which they refuse to acknowledge. In this chapter, the main focus is to consolidate the social and theological constructs involved in the self-making of the Brahmin. The self-making of the Brahmin is intrinsically related to the sanyasi tradition in Brahmanism. The theological and the social construction of renunciation in Buddhism and Jainism is fundamentally different from the Brahmanical tradition. In Brahmanism, the renouncer tradition did not evolve independently of the householder. So, within the Brahmanical framework, where is the sanyasi located? Is he at the centre of its theological and its social construct, as in Buddhism and Jainism, or at its periphery? As we know, the Vedic worldview is built around the householder-male, and hence, the renouncer has no independent or positive existence. In such a narrative, how and when was the renouncer conceptually accommodated? This story is both about the internal dynamics of the Brahmanical tradition as well as its dialogues with other intellectual and theological worldviews. My thesis is that unless we differentiate the renouncer in the Brahmanical tradition from the one in other traditions like Buddhism (both theologically and as a way of life), we cannot locate the specific features of the sanyasi tradition within the Brahmanical framework. Further, unless we locate the unique features of the Brahmin renouncer, we cannot determine how the idea of Brahmin became an ‘original’. It took many centuries for Brahmanism to arrive at a notion of the ‘ideal Brahmin’, a sanyasi embodied in the householder Brahmin-self.

Historical background It is generally accepted that, socially, the worldviews of Buddhism and Jainism stand counter to everything that Brahmanism stands for. The Orientalist scholarship read Buddhism and other non-Brahmin movements as an anti-caste movement and the Brahmins as the one who established the caste system to uphold their social and ritual hegemony. This reading got its legitimacy particularly after Ambedkar embraced Buddhism, and continues to have enormous influence even in the modern political discourse. Buddhism became a sort of vehicle to counter Neo-Brahmanism and is seen as a philosophy more sympathetic to the oppressed peoples, in particular the

18  The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being Dalits. In these modes of anti-caste narratives, a sort of monolithic Brahmanism is constructed and counterposed with another monolithic construction, Buddhism. The Brahmins were never a monolithic group. There were not only different philosophical schools but also intense debates on the very idea of Brahmin among the Brahmin intellectuals. So, instead of addressing the social contradiction as between Brahmins and non-Brahmins, we can approach the contradiction as between a householder perspective and renouncer/ascetic perspective. This will enable us to interrogate how the idea of the Brahmin evolved through the centuries. But why did Buddhism and Jainism take to asceticism to counter the Vedic worldview that was centred on the ritualised Brahmin-householder-male? Addressing this issue is of paramount importance because the householder-renouncer/ascetic axis impact on the socio-economic and the cultural world of India is enormous and in the process, the idea of Brahmin became a sort of an ‘original’ that can be recovered or translated continuously. The normative practice of cutting all ties with society and family can be found in many cultures. For example, if an individual becomes no longer useful to the community because of say, terminal illness, or old age, they may cut all ties with their community and family and retire to the forest. But these normative practices are fundamentally different from the conceptual constructions we are to discuss in detail. Vedic Brahmanism is basically village-centric. Olivelle reads the asceticism conceptualised in Buddhism, Jainism, and even within Brahmanism as a city-centric response to the ­village-centric ritualistic worldview. Olivelle (2004) is of the view that this response would not have been possible without individualisation, without the life experiences of towns and cities, and the formation of monarchy and trade. The city-centred Brahmins attempted to redefine the very idea of Brahmin. In other words, the social categories of the Vedic world would not sustain their relevance in the environment of towns and cities. If we take the village-centric worldview as a closed one, the new environment was much more open, and individuals in the new environment had to self-define themselves differently. In her book Natural Symbols: Exploration in Cosmology, Mary Douglas illustrates the state of individuals who move from a closed society to a more open one: When the social group grips its members in tight communal bonds, the religion is ritualistic; when this grip is relaxed, ritualism declines. . . . The most important determinant of ritualism is the experience of closed groups. The man who has that experience associates boundaries with power and danger. The better defined and the most significant the social boundaries, the more the bias I would expect in favour of ritual. If the social are weakly structured and their membership weak and fluctuating, then I would expect the low value to be set on symbolic performance. Along this line of ritual variation, appropriate doctrinal difference would appear. With weak social boundaries and weak

The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being 19 ritualism, I would expect a doctrinal emphasis on internal, emotional states. Sin would be more of an affect than of transgression; sacraments and magic would give way to direct unmediated communion, even to the sacralization of states of trance and bodily dissociation. (Douglas, 1982: 13, in Olivelle, 2004: 59) In the new environment, precisely the type of intellectual environment that Douglas predicts – non-ritualistic, individualist, and centred on an ethics of internal virtue − emerged in North India during the period we are discussing. This period, around the fifth and sixth centuries BCE, produced an intellectual and philosophical response that was so rich and varied that these ideas, as Uma Chakravarti writes, ‘indicates the complexity of attempting to understand the rapidly changing society’ (2006: 125). Culturally constructed worlds cannot be monolithic and stable forever. These constructs are constantly challenged by new life experiences. Vedic culture remained village-centric until sixth century BCE. This village culture is the social background of the Brahmanical theology. The principal feature of the period we are discussing saw a tremendous expansion of the economy and the consolidation of power by the monarch. Chakravarthi (2006: 122) explains in detail the impact of the expansion of agriculture that led to a virtual demographic revolution. The important difference between the villagecentric and the city-centric is that cities are basically settlements, composed of people from different villages. This demands new modes of relations that are totally different from those of the villages. Further, cities are primarily political and commercial centres. Gombrich argues that ‘there can be no trade without an economic surplus’ and continues that though trade seems to be a necessary condition for the creation of towns, it is not a sufficient one. On the other hand, it is too easily forgotten that commerce itself depends on organisation: on an infrastructure of communications and a certain level of legality and security, both products of stable political conditions. (Gombrich, 1988: 53, in Olivelle, 1992: 31) City-centric worldview, though not always, is fundamentally an antithesis to all that the village stands for. The city-centred intellectual tradition must necessarily attempt to make sense of their new lived and complex experiences. One such response is Buddhism. Gombrich says that Buddhism is an urban development and ‘Buddha talked to Kings, Pasenadi of Kosala, Bimbisara and his son Ajatasattu of Magadha, who ruled quite sizable territories from their urban capitals’ (in Olivelle, 1992: 32). In this environment, the idea of the individual, according to some scholars, though located not at the periphery in the social and theological construction of the Vedic world, was brought to the centre in the new world. This was made possible only by monarchy and trade. For the monarch the

20  The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being idea of the individual was indispensable. A monarch can never become part of any social group, and at least conceptually he needs to locate himself above all groups. Universal acceptance is fundamental for the monarch. It is in this environment that asceticism centred on individuals evolved. In other words, kings, traders, and ascetics are city-centric individuals. So, the challenge that the new city-centric worldview posed to Vedic Brahmanism is how a Brahmin, defined as an essential part of the varna scheme, can be made relevant in the environment of individualisation. Vedic Brahmanism is structured around the householder-male (family) category (varna). But for the idea of Brahmin to be relevant in the new world, it has to be individualised. As asceticism is premised on the notion of an individual, the social category Brahmin has to be redefined to accommodate the individualised Brahmin. Olivelle summarises: Down the centuries the Hindu tradition have been caught in an internal and unresolved conflict not just between two institutions – married householder and celibate renunciation – but also between the two value systems represented by these two institutions. We have seen many and repeated attempts to bring these two poles of the tradition together, always with limited success. (2011b: 26) Resolving the conflict between these two institutions means that the Brahmin must evolve as an idealised individual, incorporating both the Brahmin renouncer and the householder Brahmin. This limited success is part of the ambivalent nature of the Brahmin self-making. This is a long story, but a fascinating one. I am just going to consolidate the scholarly writings of Patrick Olivelle, starting from the position where the householder Brahmin and the Brahmin renouncer are separate entities and then see how attempts were made to unify these two distinct entities into one unified whole: ‘the Brahmin’. The internal tension within the Brahmanism is this: if the sanyasi is defined as a Brahmin, what becomes of the householder Brahmin? If the householder Brahmin essentially defines what it is to be Brahmin, can the sanyasi be sustained as a Brahmin? Both cannot exist within a system as two distinct entities. Olivelle’s readings of the renunciation tradition in Brahmanism in general and the notions of the ‘true’ Brahmin in particular are very important not only to understand the debates among Brahmin intellectuals but also to understand the castes and the relationships between discrete jatis and untouchability. Is the ‘true’ Brahmin a notional entity or an empirical one? In the Brahmanical worldview, the ‘true’ Brahmin becomes a preta (ghost). The question of why Brahmin intellectuals evolved the notion of the ‘true’ Brahmin as a preta, an incorporeal entity, is important in understanding untouchability conceptually. The inherent tension between the householder Brahmin and the Brahmin renouncer was resolved by Sankara (8th century CE). Sankara redefined

The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being 21 the ‘true’ Brahmin as one who is not bound by the Dharmas of varna and asrama. Sankara located the ‘true’ Brahmin outside varnasramadharma. For the community of Brahmins to define themselves as Brahmins, the householder Brahmin body must embody the sanyasi, an incorporeal entity. That is, to sustain the ritual-centric householder Brahmin alive and corporeal, the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, a Paramahamsa sanyasi, has to become a notional entity and incorporeal.

City-centric individualism Olivelle argues that ‘the individualistic spirit permitted the creation of the first voluntary religious organisations in India. The Buddhist and Jain monastic orders are the earliest available examples of such organisations’ (1992: 33). This became possible only through the independent choice of the individuals. People who became associated with asceticism did so on their own as independent individuals. They attempted to define themselves as autonomous individuals. The classic example is Therigatha and Theragatha, collections of poems by female and male poets, respectively, who embraced Buddhism as an autonomous individual. In Therigatha, the women poets celebrate their liberation from the family, social obligations, from the constructions of the female body. What are these extraordinary men and women looking for? How can we describe them? Gombrich discusses Steven Lukas’s idea of ‘religious individualism’. Lukas defines (in Gombrich, 2006: 73–74) religious individualism as the view that the individual believer does not need intermediaries, that he has the primary responsibility for his own spiritual destiny, that he has the right and the duty to come to his own relationship with his God in his own way and by his own effort. Gombrich, in the context of Buddhism, rightly states that the ‘relationship with God’ has to be replaced with ‘work out his own salvation’. In this sense, we can state that Buddhism put forth the theological position where the salvation of the individual is possible without any intermediaries or rituals. Further, he states that ‘religious individualism in the West is associated with the Protestant Reformation and subsequent development in Christianity’ (ibid.: 74). The Protestant Reformation and subsequent development in Christianity did away with intermediaries. But, Karl Marx gives a different reading about intermediaries in secular society. In his article ‘On the Jewish Question’, Marx states that whether it is Jesus Christ or the modern State, the role of the intermediary is sustained. Marx describes that in line with Christian theology, the modern State acts as an intermediary for human liberty. Religion is simply the recognition of a man in a roundabout fashion; that is, through an intermediary. The state is the intermediary between

22  The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being man and human liberty. Just as Christ is the intermediary to whom man attributes all his own divinity and all his religious bonds, so the state is the intermediary to which man confides all his non-divinity and all his human freedom. (in Brown, 2010: 96) So rather than equating the Buddhist doctrine with ‘religious individualism’, I agree with Gombrich’s reading that Buddhism redefined the very idea of karma. Gombrich states: karma is a doctrine which has assumed different guises. We can be misled by its passive use: that people may ascribe misfortune to karma, as if to fate – because even if it is a casual chain which they themselves set in motion in a former life, now they can do nothing about it. But the Buddha’s message was exactly the opposite: that each one of us has free will and is thus responsible for his own future. Were karma not a matter of free will, the whole of Buddhist morality and soteriology would be incoherent. (2006: 74) The men and women poets of Theragatha and Therigatha are precisely redefining karma for their salvation or liberation from existential bondage. Vedic Brahmanism revolves around the karma of the Brahmin-householdermale. As an anti-narrative, liberating themselves from the householder’s karma is celebrated by these poets. Similar to the manifestation of the individual agency of monarchs on the political plane or of merchants on the economic plane, ordinary men and women took to asceticism to manifest their individual agency. As the Vedic cosmology identified the individuals only through categories, the new city-centric manifestations were naturally against that categorisation. But then why do Buddhism and Jainism have to interpret human life as nothing but suffering? They went to the extent of saying that even physical death would not end human suffering. Human life is essentially seen as bondage and to get liberated from this one has to break all individual, family, and social ties. In short, they devalue both production and procreation. Gombrich attempts to offer a reason for this. He says that when the individual moves from the closed environment to an open society, it increases the ‘individual’s power to choose and hence doubt about choosing rightly’ (2006: 58). When a person can no longer make meaning of himself based on the existing notions of life in a new environment, then the existential question arises: how does one identify and make sense of oneself socially? On what basis can he or she make meaning of his or her actions? When the notions of the self are fluid in nature, naturally self-doubt rises over individuals’ social actions. In such an environment not only is the self is unstable, but questions are raised about each and every action of the individual. This is nothing but

The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being 23 existential suffering. This suffering can be felt in the writings of Ajivikas. However, why did asceticism, both conceptually and normatively, negate all social and familial ties and the economic activities? Gombrich tries to identify the external factors that might have contributed to this. He refuses to accept the theory of Marxist historians that seeing life as suffering reflects the views of the class that exploits the labour of primary producers. He states that Marxist theory is humane but unconvincing when we are talking about Buddhism because ‘Buddhism appealed mainly to the better-off’ (Gombrich 2006: 59).1 Buddhism and Jainism are products of city-centred elites. So Gombrich moves to identify the external causes that are not within human control. Things that are not within human control too contribute to human ideas as much as do those within human control. Both Gombrich and Olivelle quote the reading of William McNeill (Plagues and Peoples, 1976) related to the problem of ‘public health and morality’. McNeill displays the role of microparasites and infectious diseases in the development of city cultures. As the population within a city space increases, there is a wider scope for the spread of infectious diseases and large-scale death when there is no proper planning or public drainage system. Though these reasons may or may not have contributed to asceticism as a socially acceptable form, one can be certain, as Gombrich states, that the early Buddhists were fond of medical metaphors. ‘In a metaphor central to Buddhism, the Buddha is the greatest physician, the Dhamma is the remedy he prescribes, the Sangha is the nurse who administers that remedy’ (2006: 2). Further, the story that Prince Siddhartha renounced everything because he saw a dead body, a sick man, and an old man illustrates the environment in which Buddha was living. We also need to note that, as Gombrich comments, ‘no evidence has been found of city planning or public drainage till as late as the second century BCE’ (2006: 55). The ascetic worldview is in total contrast to Vedic Brahmanism which revolves around a householder-male (sacrifice and procreation). But asceticism is not limited to Buddhists or Jains. Even the Brahmins who lived in cities had to challenge the Vedic worldviews. The important point that Olivelle brings out is that ‘the challenges to the Vedic world came not just from outside the Brahmanical tradition, such as the Buddha, but also from people who choose to remain within that tradition’ (1992: 35). Further, he says that the two earliest Upanisads, Brhadaranyaka and Chandogya Upanisads, ‘are in all likelihood, pre-Buddhist; placing them in the seventh to sixth centuries BCE may be reasonable’ (Olivelle, 1996: xxxvi). Similarly, Olivelle assigns the three other Upanisads, Taittriya, Aitaerya, and Kausitaki, to the sixth and fifth centuries BCE, and considers them ‘probably pre-Buddhist’. That is, the city-based Brahmins, like others, had to face the consequences of the individualisation and respond to it in a meaningful way. Some Brahmins discarded Vedic Brahmanism and joined Buddhist or Jain monastic orders. In ‘Theragatha and Therigatha, 86 per cent of poets came from cities, and 40 per cent were Brahmins’.2 Kumkum Roy (2010: 23–24) details the social

24  The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being composition of the poets in Theras and Theris: Visions of Liberation on the early Buddhist Tradition. She says that ‘the largest number of theras (and to a lesser extent theris) were identified as Brahmanas’ and determines that ‘90 per cent of the theras and 88 per cent of the theris were ascribed relatively “high” origin’ and ‘only four to five per cent were recorded as belonging to poor or slave origin’.3 Brahmins who decided to stay within Brahmanism negotiated with the fundamentals of the Vedic worldview. The views of such Brahmins can be seen in the early Upanisads. As we noted earlier, the theological constructs of sacrifice and procreation centred around householder-male must have been perceived as meaningless in the new environment. So, the city Brahmins who did not choose other schools and decided to remain within the Brahmanical framework had to negotiate with the premise of the Vedic world. Here, city denotes not only the geographical space, but also the new conceptual frames that evolved around individualism, monarchy, and trade. In other words, the idea of Brahmin centred around the rituals has to be redefined to have a meaningful existence in the new environment. What we need to note is that this problem is essentially encountered only by the Brahmins. Since Buddhist and Jain worldviews evolved out of the city environment, they did not have pre-existing theological, intellectual, or social ideas to safeguard. Asceticism conceptually was not an existing worldview. The existing worldview was constructed around Brahmin-householder-male. So, the worldview of Buddhism and Jainism evolved as an antithesis. But what Olivelle brings to our attention is that the city-centric Brahmins are also part of this antithesis. In other words, the city-centric Brahmins must have faced an existential crisis, because they needed to negotiate with both the existing worldview and the new one. The most compelling reason is that the citybased ascetics gained acceptance in the new power structures. The hold the Brahmins had on the power structures was replaced by the ascetics of new schools. It is generally accepted that ascetics like Buddhists gained acceptance with the monarchy. It is also argued that it was only because of the asceticism from the non-Brahmanical rivals that the city-centred Brahmins started negotiating with the existing Vedic worldview. Olivelle refutes this reading and argues that city-based Brahmins negotiated internally because of the new life experience and not because of challenges posed by non-Brahmanical movements (Olivelle, 1992: 36). According to Olivelle, the new doctrines of the Upanisads were urban products. Because of the prestige of the Buddhist and Jain ascetics, both socially and with the monarchy, the city-centric Brahmins needed to negotiate both with the monarchy and with the ascetic tradition, and needed to differentiate themselves from Vedic worldviews. Since our aim is to understand Brahmanism’s internal tension as manifested in the new environment, in particular with the ascetic tradition, the negotiation has to eventually narrow down to that between a householder Brahmin and a Brahmin renouncer. Olivelle approaches the theological disputes of that time through culture, anti-culture, and counterculture axes.

The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being 25

Renunciation as anti-culture Olivelle approaches the response of the city-centric worldview to the villagebased Vedic theology as ‘anti-culture’. The existing culture is village-based, householder centric and ritual-based. The anti-culture is city based, ascetic centred and anti-ritual based. The form and the content of anti-culture are always determined in a particular space and time and are totally dependent on the culture it attempts to negate. Further, since the anti-culture is fundamentally dependent on the culture it negates, it has to negotiate with that compulsorily. This interdependence is always dynamic in nature. The anticulture of that period took two different forms: forest hermits and renouncers. In the former, social intercourse is completely cut off, whereas it is not in the latter. Forest hermits lived on nature, and the renouncer begged for his food. Olivelle observes that the forest hermit’s withdrawal from society is physical, while the renouncer’s withdrawal from society is not physical but ideological (2011b: 11–12). Both of these responses, withdrawal from society physically and withdrawal from society ideologically, though fundamentally different, can similarly be approached as anti-culture. But the important thing is that both of these responses are structured on the notion of an individual. Conceptually, both are part of city-centric worldview. Olivelle reads the forest hermits as countercultural and the renouncer as anti-cultural. Counterculture and anti-culture, though they operate on entirely different premises, are not totally different in their negotiation with the existing culture. The lifestyle of forest hermits, though offering a different way of living life, does not have dynamic relations with the Brahmin-householder-male centred existing culture. Further, a counterculture element of forest hermits is more normative in nature. It puts forth an alternative way of life but does not conceptualise it. It gets its meaning and form only through the very act of living. In short, the counterculture element does not conceptually position itself against either the culture or anti-culture. It is more of an ideal. It basically divorces itself from the existing notions of culture. That is why the life of a hermit, as Olivelle says, ‘became obsolete at least by the beginning of the common era and lived on only in poetic imagination’ (2011b: 12). I wish to equate this with our contemporary experience. Secularism and religious fundamentalism, both the product of modernity, can negotiate with each other, and each one is dependent on the other for their very existence. But religious pluralism can only be a way of life and take form through its everydayness. For instance, Gandhi’s religious pluralism is a way of life, not a conceptual position. It can exist only in its everydayness. Gandhi’s religious pluralism, the painful dual mode of identification has become a poetic imagination because it does not negotiate or recognise either secularism or religious fundamentalism, though it actively negates religious fundamentalism. The renouncer tradition in Brahmanism, as an anti-culture, has to counter existing notions and attempt to negotiate with them. The asceticism that

26  The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being evolved in the cities not only countered the notions built around the ritualised householder Brahmin but also challenged the prestige the existing notions carried. The city-centred ascetics replaced the Brahmins as the ideal of society. Asceticism as an anti-culture was a ‘totally negative state, defined by what it abandons rather than by what is practices, by what it is not rather than what it is’ (Olivelle, 2011b: 45). Asceticism, as an anti-culture creates an entity in contrast to and distinct from the householder Brahmin. Olivelle reads the Vedic worldview through the village, group, and householder axes. This existing worldview could not accommodate the life experiences of the new environment. Further, when we see asceticism as an anti-culture, we do not narrow down to Buddhism, Jainism, and other ascetic traditions. City Brahmins too took to asceticism to challenge the existing Vedic worldview. We need to note that asceticism as a conceptual category and as a social manifestation got its definite form around the fifth century BCE. We know that the Vedic culture revolved not only around the village but was also centred around the group/family and the male. It did not locate the individual either ritually or socially at its centre. The individual is either at the periphery or is subsumed under the group. Louis Dumont argues that the individual is subsumed under the group. But Olivelle refutes this reading of Dumont and argues that Dumont’s position cannot be ‘sustained from a historical standpoint’ stating that ‘the emphasis on the roles of an individual within structures . . . is evident within the Vedic and the later Dharmasastric traditions’ (2011b: 46 n7). The individual gets his or her existential meaning only through the categories. In this context, it will be useful to correlate with Marx’s reading of the political self and civil self. Marx writes in ‘On the Jewish Question’ that the political self is conceptual and the civil self is empirical. The Brahmanical theology revolves around the conceptual self, that is, varna. It is established that we cannot make sense of our biological body, unless this body is conceptually categorised either as male or female, with certain characteristic features and social functions. These conceptual categories take on a life of their own and continuously define and redefine the empirical subject who identifies with a particular category, even though the everydayness of these subjects may or may not adhere to the ideals of the conceptual categories. Nevertheless, the subject’s self-definition is based on the categories. For example, let us take the idea of the scientist in modern times. When does a scientist exist as a scientist, a state different from the normative life of a subject? The scientist exists only when a subject is ‘doing’ science (in a particular language of science). The scientist, when doing science, is not a normative subject. That is why, in ‘doing’ science, the normative self of the scientist cannot be accommodated. There is no ‘I’ in the language of science. You cannot locate the self in the mathematical language. Further, a particular way of ‘doing’ mathematics removes all the particularities of the elements involved and gets a life of an abstract quality. Outside science, this abstract quality of the elements may or may not have any meaningful existence. When a scientist is not ‘doing’

The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being 27 science, he or she is a normal subject with all the irrationalities, emotions, and subjective interpretations of his or her experiences and of the surrounding world. All this apparently vanishes when he or she is ‘doing’ science. Only because of the absence of the ‘I’ in ‘doing’ science it is seen as an objective enterprise4. The conceptual categories make the subject’s discrete experiences not only meaningful, but also continuously defines and redefines the subject. The inherent tensions between these two, the discrete experiences of the subject and the conceptual category, recreate and sustain them. The inherent tension between the lived experiences of a subject and the conceptual framework in which the subject identifies is more intense when an existing framework is undermined or becomes meaningless. Asceticism as a new category attempts to liberate the subject from this tension. It attempts to locate the individual away from the existing social and theological constructions. It challenges the existing conceptual framework. The ideal of the existing conceptual framework is sacrifice around which the Brahmin, a ritualised householder is located. In Vedic cosmology, ‘sacrifice’, as Olivelle writes, ‘is the creative power that began the cosmic process; it is the power that continually maintains the cosmic order’ (2011b: 46). Hence offering sacrifice becomes the main obligation of a man who is part of this worldview. A Brahmin becomes a Brahmin when he is ‘doing’ sacrifice. For a Brahmin to remain a Brahmin at all times, all of his normal activities like taking bath, eating, having sexual relations, begetting children, and other such activities are to be defined as part of the ritual. Further, in this worldview, ‘doing’ sacrifice is restricted to the married householder-male. The unmarried male Brahmin cannot conceptualise himself as a Brahmin. The social becomes theological and is associated with a particular category: Brahmin-householder-male. Sacrifice, marriage, and procreation are all defined as the obligation of a Brahmin-householder-male. Hence, the theological narration defines the Brahmin male as one who is born with three debts: to seers, to gods and to fathers (Tattiriya Samhita of the Yajur Veda: 6.3.10.5, Olivelle, 1992: 47). In this conceptual framework, everyday life becomes theologically defined. Through these constructs, every act of a Brahmin is seen as equivalent to ‘doing’ sacrifice. The body itself becomes the site of sacrifice. For example, the Brhadaranyaka Upanisad (6.4.3) conceptualises the woman’s body as an inherent part of the sacrifice (Olivelle, 2004: 45). Asceticism challenged the Vedic worldview both theologically and practically. A Brahmin cannot be a Brahmin if he does not beget offspring and make sacrifices. Asceticism negated both of these. In Brahmanical tradition, according to Olivelle, the most significant dimension of karma is ritual. That is why the renunciation in Brahmanism is fundamentally related to the negation of the ritual state. In Brahmanism, Olivelle states, ‘elimination of karma means principally the elimination of rites and renunciation is defined precisely as the abandonment of ritual activities’ (2004: 63). The conceptual

28  The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being constructs of the Vedic world can be sustained only by the householder who does sacrifice. It cannot accommodate the individualisation that the city environment demanded. Can a Brahmin be a Brahmin as an autonomous individual without ‘doing’ sacrifice? Brahmanism has had to negotiate with this question for too long. In the city-centric framework, both sacrifice and procreation are seen as hurdles to human liberation. The Vedic gods are seen as part of samsara. In other words, ascetic worldview argued that the liberation of a being is not dependent on sacrifice or begetting a son. Liberation depends entirely on the activities (karma) of the individual. Two things are clear in these formulations: one, the householder is dislodged from the centre of the theological construction and in his place a celibate ascetic is placed. Second, group-based identification is replaced with individualisation. Vedic gods were seen as part of sacrifice and samsara. As the constructions built around sacrifice are negated, the gods associated with sacrifice are also necessarily negated (Mundaka Upanisad:1.2.7–10, 1.1.4–5, Olivelle, 1992: 40–41). The fundamentals of the Vedic imaginary are thoroughly disqualified. If in the Vedic world the son is seen as a continuation of the father, in new thinking, the son is not the continuation of the father, but the result of his desire. An individual becomes complete by his actions alone and not because of family, father, or son. The family, society, and culture are all seen as a stumbling blocks for an individual’s liberation. In the Brhadaranyaka Upanisad (4.4.22, Olivelle, 1992: 43), the householder, family, and reproduction are made meaningless and replaced with asceticism and mendicancy for those ‘who aspire after the knowledge of Self’. Though the contrast is between the village and city, in Brahmanical literature, this is expressed through grama (village) and aranya (wilderness) in the Upanisads. The village is seen as a symbol of endless rebirth and the aranya as a symbol of liberation. These two symbols are defined as two different paths an individual can choose: the path of gods and the path of fathers. In the Chandogya Upanisad (5.10.1–5, Olivelle, 2011b: 47–48), the householder/ ascetic contradiction becomes village/wilderness; samsara/moksa; bondage/ freedom. These different conceptual positions contradict each other in every possible way. However, at this point, the question we need to raise is this: why does Brahmanism contrast the village with the wilderness and not with the city? As part of the dialogue with the existing framework, there is an inversion of the existing theological constructs. As Olivelle explains, the reevaluation of the wilderness implies the reevaluation of a wide spectrum of places, practices, and lifestyles. In every case, the value system of the Vedic world is inverted: wilderness over the village, celibacy over marriage, economic inactivity over economic activity, ritual inactivity over ritual performance, instability over stable residence. Both in ideology and in lifestyle these reversals clearly represented a radical challenge to the Vedic world. (1992: 46)

The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being 29 Heesterman (1985: 118) attempts to address the question, that is, why the city Brahmins contrasted village with wilderness. He says, by its very structure, the ‘king is seen as one who is both part of the community and external to it’. Being part and being external to the community is contrasted with village and wilderness. The aranya (wilderness) is outside the limits of human habitat. Heesterman continues, stating that ‘this opposition obviously has direct practical and historical importance’. But, as he says, the village and the wilderness are not only in opposition to each other, they are also complementary to each other. That is, the relation between the village and the wilderness is dynamic in nature. In practical terms, the grama is dependent on the aranya, and the aranya is dependent on the grama. ‘The king must belong to the grama, but his authority must be based on the alien sphere of aranya’. The aranya denotes the transcendent authority of the king. Hence he concludes that ‘the opposition as well as the complementarity is there all the time and cannot be overcome, the cycle has to go on forever’ and also ‘the grama – aranya cycle is expressed in the dictum: In the grama, one undertakes the consecration, in the aranya one sacrifices’. In short, we can also say that the city Brahmins continue with the grama-aranya of the Vedic world in expressing the village-city contradictions. Is the Brahmin renouncer still a Brahmin? If yes how can a Brahmin be a Brahmin even after renouncing? If not who is he within the Brahmanical framework? Can the renouncer sustained as an autonomous category without depending on the householder? The renouncer can be conceptually understood only in relation to society. A forest hermit can be independent of society, can physically discard culture, but he is also dependent on the construct of Brahmin-householder-male to negate it. Though the renouncer attempts to liberate himself from the notions of being a Brahmin, what does he become? This is a real philosophical issue. I think that, apart from Brahmanism, other ascetic tradition like Buddhism and Jainism did not approach this issue philosophically. Buddhism and Jainism are not concerned with the conceptualisation of the householder, and as an anti-culture, they limited themselves to the asceticism. But since the very essence of Brahmanism is built on the householder, the renouncer tradition as an anti-culture must necessarily negotiate with it. This is directly related to recovering the very idea of the Brahmin. A structural problem in renunciation tradition is that it is wholly dependent on that which it totally discards. That is, though a renouncer completely discards his family, social group, social category, though a renouncer attains non-ritual state, and though he is liberated from all samsaric duties and responsibilities, he is structurally dependent on the society and culture that he is against. So the question: even after a householder Brahmin renounces, is he still a Brahmin? This issue is of paramount importance. The householder Brahmin and the renouncer have become two separate and distinct identities, which are in opposition to each other socially, theologically, and ritually. As long as these two categories exist as independent entities, the

30  The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being prestige of the Brahmin householder will always be challenged from within. A sort of compromise that is valid ritually and socially has to be evolved with Brahmanism. That is the asrama system.

A renouncer becomes a Brahmin In Brahmanism, the sanyasi tradition posed a greater threat than the hermit tradition to the established structure. The life experiences of the city contributed to an antithesis to the established world order, be it from Buddhists or Jains or renouncers in Brahmanism. Within Brahmanism, the inevitable consequence of this construction is that, of these two worldviews, either the established worldview or the deviant one has to absorb the fundamentals of the other. They cannot exist permanently as two separate worldviews, one opposing the other. But the question is which, the deviant construct or the established construct, accommodated the other in order not only to survive but also to gain respectability and acceptance. ‘An earlier generation of scholars’ argues Olivelle, ‘depicted the absorption of renunciation as an attempt by Brahmanism to include and thereby control an institution that it is powerless to oppose’ adding ‘that is inaccurate; it is an oversimplification of a complex historical process’ (2011b: 56). He is of the opinion that the ‘initiative often came from the renouncers themselves eager to gain social respectability, and acceptance and to obtain political patronage’ (ibid.). This important argument by Olivelle can also be substantiated by the Buddhist sources. What kind of relationship is possible between the renouncers and the monarchs? In Samannaphala Sutta (Fruits of the Contemplative Life), a Pali text, all the philosophers of the Buddha’s day assemble and discuss renunciation. As Uma Chakravarti notes: It is significant that the question of the utility of life of a recluse was posted by Ajatasattu, the king of Magadh when he was right in the midst of his career of aggressive expansionism. Central to the expansionist move was the impulse to control larger resources, both material and human. The king was not likely, therefore, to have been sympathetic to the withdrawal from production of a section of society which had opted for the life of a renouncer. It was in this context that the king approached each of the well-known philosophers with the stock question: ‘What is the visible fruit of the life of a recluse?’ (2006: 125) The relation between the monarch and the renouncer is not an unproblematic one. In a way, they stand as antithetical social constructions. It is in this context that the Buddha, to realise his egalitarian society, founded sangha, a sort of parallel social institution and at the same time, as Chakravarty notes, ‘steered clear of alienating his dominant supports like kings and gahapatis [land owners] by barring the entry of runaway slaves, deserting soldiers and

The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being 31 debtors, into the sangha’ (2006: 129). The renouncers/ascetics have to compromise their ideals. They become a sub-system within the larger system. Olivelle explains in detail the nature of the relation between the monarchical power and the ascetics. The compromise is clear, as Olivelle explains, if we see how dharma, jina (conqueror), cakravartin (rollers of wheels), and sasana (counterpart of royal edit) were co-opted by the ascetics, and he concludes that ‘these are all clearly royal symbols used, deliberately I think, to define the new ascetic groups and new religious ideologies’ (2011b: 28). The city-centred ascetics have to gain support from the monarch, merchants, and land-owning class for their very material existence, and the support of the masses as followers. Not only the Buddhists but also the city Brahmins who theoretically supported the renunciation tradition within Brahmanism have to get legitimacy and acceptance in the new power structures. By ascribing the Upanisads to the kings, by portraying the Buddha as nobles, gave the new doctrines, ‘a new status and prestige, and served to distinguish them from the old beliefs and practises’ (Olivelle, 1992: 37–38). Olivelle comes to the conclusion that it is the ‘the ascetics and supporters of asceticism who sought acceptance, legitimacy, and patronage by a varieties of strategies, including the co-opting of major symbols of Brahmanical religion’ (2011b: 28). Clearly, we can see a tripartite structure between the king, Brahmin, and the renouncer/ascetic (we will see more on this in Chapter 3). In this tripartite structure, within Brahmanism, the householder Brahmin and the renouncer become two distinct and separate entities. The Brahmins who renounced and the supporters of renunciation in Brahmanism attempted to redefine what the idea of Brahmin means and how to make it relevant in the new environment. The existing framework defines the true meaning of the Brahmin as the ritualised householder-male. The redefined position is renouncer-male in a non-ritual state. Both cannot simultaneously exist within a single framework. The renouncer in the non-ritual state cannot co-exist with the householder, essentially defined in ritual terms. Neither Buddhism or Jainism had this issue; this contradiction can be seen only in Brahmanism. If Brahmanism as an ideology has to sustain itself, it needs to problematise the issue of renouncing. In the following pages, we will see how attempts have been made to address this issue through the asrama system. But, even in the asrama system, the dual existence of the Brahmin and the renouncer as distinct entities would not be completely resolved. In the asrama system, the non-ritual state renouncer becomes a Brahmin renouncer. The question is, how a Brahmin can be a Brahmin in the nonritual state? In resolving the conflict of the existence of the renouncer and the householder within a single framework, the asrama system achieved only one part of the requirement. ‘The system of four asramas (orders of life)’, as Olivelle states, ‘was an early attempt to institutionalize renunciation within Brahmanical social structures’ (2011b: 17). Olivelle differentiates the early and later asrama system. In the early system, the four life descriptions – being a student, being a

32  The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being householder, withdrawing to the forest as a hermit, becoming a renouncer – are treated as four different ways of life an individual can choose. But, in the later system, these four ways of life became four stages of the life of an individual. In the early stage, whether the Brahmin who renounces is still a Brahmin or not is not very clear. But in the later stage, the householder Brahmin becomes a Brahmin renouncer. The varna identity is retained even after renouncing. He remains a Brahmin. In a nutshell, we can say that we have only two categories that are conceptually dynamic: Brahmin and Sudra in varna and householder and sanyasi in asrama. As we saw earlier, it is not the village Brahmins who compromised with the city-centric worldviews. The city-centric householder Brahmins who celebrated renouncing, who attempted to redefine the idea of Brahmin, compromised with village-centric worldview. This can be read as an act of recovery; recovering what it means to be a Brahmin. It is the city Brahmins who negotiated with both the new power structure and the old one. The renunciation tradition which discarded economic activity, procreation, has to get social legitimacy within the new urban social structures. The compromise needs to accommodate not only the monarchy and individualisation, but also to sustain the legitimacy of the Vedic categories, in particular, the idea of Brahmin. A complex negotiation, both within and outside, is involved in this process of recovery. This is an extraordinary moment in the intellectual tradition of Brahmanism. In Brahmanism, according to Olivelle, ‘the asrama system is a completely new invention’, and it was created ‘probably around the fifth century BCE’ (1992: 52). The asrama system is a product of the city and was created by city-centred Brahmins, who questioned the Vedic worldview. In the early or original asrama system, an individual could choose any of the four ways of life assigned to a Brahmin, and it was open. The individual was brought to the forefront. He could choose a way of life that fit him. He could decide to continue as a student, marry and become a householder and make sacrifices, retire to the forest to live a life of a hermit, or discard all rituals and family and become a renouncer. Buddhist and Jain monastic institutions too celebrated this voluntary choice of an individual (Olivelle, 1992: 53). Though both of the contradicting definitions, that of a householder and renouncer, are brought into a single structure, the question remains how to accommodate the renouncer in the varna scheme. This question remains unanswered in the early asrama system. The open-ended position of the early asrama system did not go unchallenged because the position of the renouncers with respect to the idea of Brahmin is still not clear: is a sanyasi still a Brahmin or not? We have two issues here. The first issue is that the renouncer has to depend on the householder for his very existence and the second is related to the position of renouncers with respect to the idea of Brahmin. In other words, we can say that Brahmanism, compared to Buddhism, approached the relationship between the renouncer and the householder structurally. That is why, when Brahmanism brought the old and the new worldview

The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being 33 within the single framework of dharma, it differentiated between pravrtti (active) dharma and nivrtti (non-active) dharma. The active dharma is for householders; non-active dharma is for renouncers. As we saw earlier, the latter is connected with the path to moksa. The householder-renouncer contradiction was manifested as group/individual, village/city, ritual/non-ritual, active dharma/inactive dharma. Still, they exist as two separate and distinct entities. The openness and the inclusiveness found in the early asrama system underwent a complete revision. This revision becomes a necessity because the question of whether a Brahmin renouncer is still a Brahmin remains unresolved. By the beginning of the common era, the four ways of life that a Brahmin can choose from became four stages of the life of an individual Brahmin (Olivelle, 2011b: 18). The householder stage becomes fundamental in the revised asrama system. The three debts of the Vedic world, which were challenged by asceticism, has found its way back into the system. Celibate asceticism, which discarded the three-debt theology, became part of the very system. We can say that the old worldview and the new world-new arrived at a grand compromise, but this was not sufficient to address the ‘inherent conflict’ between a householder and a renouncer (Olivelle, 1992: 56). I would like to read the inherent conflict of the asrama system related to the question of what it means to be a Brahmin. Who represents the true meaning of being a Brahmin: the householder or the renouncer? Indeed, both have become part of a single system. The later asrama system merged with the varna scheme and became a unified whole. The choice an individual had in the early system, to liberate himself from the Vedic category, is not available in the later system. In the later asrama system the Brahmin householder, even after renouncing, remains a Brahmin. The Brahmanical narratives of varna (Brahmin-Sudra), asrama (householder-Brahmin and Brahmin-renouncer), and dharma (pravrtti-nivrtti) became a coherent theological position at the beginning of the common era as varnasramadharma. The fundamental contradiction between the Vedic worldview and the citycentric worldview, in spite of the elaborate asrama system, actually narrows down to the basic contradiction between the householder Brahmin and the Brahmin renouncer. Even after these two, the householder and the renouncer became two different stages of a Brahmin’s life, the structural contradiction between these two positions remained unresolved. Repeated attempts are made to un-differentiate the householder Brahmin and the Brahmin renouncer, and make it a unified whole, the Brahmin. As a result, the characteristic features of the householder are incorporated into the renouncer and the features of the renouncer are incorporated to the householder. The ideals of renunciation are taken apart from its social content. Renunciation became, according to Olivelle, ‘an internal attitude of detachment and not a mere separation from society or an escape from the social duties’ (2011b: 58). Renunciation as an anti-culture lost its anti-ness, and the qualities assigned to the renouncers, not only redefined the householder Brahmins but also defined the householder

34  The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being Brahmin as superior to a Brahmin renouncer. A householder Brahmin is not only a Nithyasanyasi but also Sarvasramin. Though a Brahmin is living a life of a householder stage, he simultaneously lives at all the stages of the asrama. As a consequence, many of the householder’s everyday activities are regarded as equivalent to renunciatory ideals (Olivelle, 2011b: 58). The householder Brahmin embodies the qualities of the Brahmin renouncer and hence becomes superior to the actual renouncer. In other words, the renouncer is completely domesticated, and the ritual state of the householder is established once again. But there are some inherent issues in his position. One such issue is the mode of social relationship of the householder. What is the mode of the social relation of the householder Brahmin, who defines himself as Nithyasanyasi and Sarvasramin and also superior to the renouncer Brahmin? The householder is involved in an exchange relationship with society. He needs to earn; he has a family to maintain. But a renouncer (as an individual, and not as a community as Buddhist sangha) need not, at least conceptually, get into any exchange relations with the society. So, the paradox is that a Brahmin as a householder needs to involve himself in exchange relationships, but as a renouncer must not get into such relationships. In Vedic sacrifices, argues Olivelle, ‘the sacrificer gives away all his possessions to the officiating priests as their sacrificial fee (sarvadaksina)’ and ‘in the Brahmanical rite of renunciation the renouncer’s abandonment of possessions is considered a daksina to the priests’ (ibid.). In the Vedic world, the Brahmin conducts sacrifices and receives dakshina from the sacrificer. Here, the Brahmin as a householder is a receiver, and his relationship with the society is reciprocal in nature. A householder-Brahmin has to receive remuneration for his ritual services. In the pre-classical period, as Heesterman states, the relation between the officiating priest and the sacrificial patron was reciprocal in nature. Brahmans and Kshatriyas do not seem to form a closed group. Rather, the ritual establishes an alternating pattern in which the yajamana passes off the evil of death to the priest, and the Brahman, who at one stage is a recipient of this evil, is encouraged to transfer back this evil to the yajamana through gifts and feats. (Heesterman, 1964, in Das, 2012: 148) In short, both the householder Brahmins and the kings are dependent on each other. But this interdependence is completely negated, in the relationship between the king and the renouncer Brahmin. When a householder Brahmin self-defines as Brahmin renouncer, he shows revulsion in accepting a fee for his ritual services. ‘This position’, as Das argues, ‘is ambiguous since he is required to safeguard his purity by remaining aloof from the gifts and foods of others but is simultaneously in need of patron in order to exercise his liturgical skill’ (2012: 148). The acceptance of the gift by a Brahmin renouncer cannot entail any reciprocal

The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being 35 obligations. There can be no obligation either on the part of the giver or receiver. But as a householder, the Brahmin receives remuneration for his services. What a householder Brahmin receives is not a gift, but a fee for his ritual services. ‘Brahmin as a priest’, as Das writes, ‘is a recipient of negative, inauspicious, evil forces and hence his purity cannot be traced to his priestly functions’ (ibid.: 149). A householder Brahmin, only by transforming the fee he receives as a non-obligatory gift, can claim the status of a renouncer. ‘The source of the Brahman’s purity is not his priestly functions with its consequent obligation to accept gifts but his adherence to the values of the renouncer which he brings to the world of the householder’ (ibid.). The self-making of the Brahmin is premised on becoming a receiver of gifts, dana, without any obligations. This creates an ambivalent position in the very definition of being a Brahmin. Both the householder Brahmin and the Brahmin renouncer cannot be assigned the same status. If the householder Brahmin becomes an ideal Brahmin renouncer (as Nithyasanyasi and Sarvasramin), how is it possible for the Brahmin renouncer to be meaningful, both socially and theologically? The Brahmin renouncer has to become a dead person; the sanyasi has to become an incorporeal entity. In short, the Brahmin renouncer has to be notional for the householder Brahmins to remain as a Brahmins, and also claim the status of a renouncer.

Sanyasi – an incorporeal Brahmin Though asceticism as a form of life was practised by all communities, it was conceptually defined differently by Buddhism, Jainism, and Brahmanism. The term sanyasa in the Brahmanical tradition, as Olivelle explains, referred specifically to a single aspect of that life, namely the abandonment of ritual activity . . . [the term] became the central and defining characteristic of Brahmanical renunciation. In its early usage, the object of samnyasa is often explicitly stated, and it is invariably rites. . . . The very semantic history of the term most commonly used to designate Brahmanical renunciation, therefore, points to the centrality of the ritual and its abandonment in the Brahmanical understanding of renunciation. (2011b: 166) Renunciation in the ritualistic tradition of Brahmanism becomes a nonritual state. But how can a renouncer be a Brahmin in the non-ritual state? A renouncer discards not only economic and procreation activities but also the ritual activity associated with the householder Brahmin, and theoretically moves out of the social categories into which he is born and identified. If so, how can a Brahmin be a Brahmin in a non-ritual state? In Brahmanism as long as the ritual state defines the householder Brahmin, the Brahmin renouncer in a non-ritual state cannot exist as a Brahmin. Issues associated with this are primarily addressed in the Samnyasa Upanisads.

36  The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being The Samnyasa Upanisads are not a traditional compilation. This is a modern compilation of texts that address the issue of renunciation in Brahmanism. This compilation consists of twenty Upanisads, the earliest belonging to the first century CE and the latest belonging to the 15th century. Further, they were sectarian in nature, and a particular text did not have any value outside a particular sect. Olivelle classifies the texts that form part of the Samnyasa Upanisads as older and younger Upanisads.5 These Upanisads handle the issues associated with the Brahmin renouncer. The Brahma Upanisad (87, Olivelle, 1992: 92) states that knowledge and not the external signifiers signifies the state of the Brahmin. At one level, the householder becomes a Brahmin through specific external signifiers, and at another level, the renouncer becomes a Brahmin by discarding these external signifiers. How can a Brahmin be a householder with certain external signifiers and also a renouncer without any external signifiers? A medieval text, Yatidharmaprakasa, that is not part of the Samnyasa Upanisads, defines the Brahmin who renounces as a dead being and in the permanent state of preta. The text states that the ‘renunciation eliminates the period of impurity that follows the death of an ordinary person. During this time the deceased exists in the condition of a ghost (preta)’ and ‘the normal funerary ritual (sapindikarana) aimed at leading the newly departed from the ghostly state to the world of fathers is not performed for a dead renouncer’ (Olivelle, 1992: 74). A Brahmin renouncer, to be in a non-ritual state and without any signifiers, cannot exist as a corporeal entity. The Brahmin renouncer cannot exist as a Brahmin in non-ritual state and without any external signifiers if the householder Brahmin has to exist as a Brahmin. So, the householder Brahmin who renounces is conceptualised both ritually and legally as dead. This formulation played a vital role not only in the idea of Brahmin but also in evolving the metaphysical un-touch sense. A Brahmin renouncer, while ritually and legally dead, continues to live as a social being. This split, between the householder Brahmin and Brahmin renouncer as ritual state and non-ritual state, with external signifiers and without external signifiers, living and dead, played a vital part in recovering the idea of Brahmin. In a similar vein, householder Brahmin is associated with fire, and Brahmin renouncer is associated with discarding the fire (Olivelle, 2011b: 52). Fire is fundamental to the Vedic worldview. It plays a vital part in all the rituals. Hence a renouncer Brahmin is conceptualised as one who abandons fire. As the sacred fire is the fundamental hallmark of the householder Brahmin, the lack of sacred fire becomes the hallmark of a sanyasi. So, in a way the Brahmin renouncer is a Brahmin who negates everything that essentially defines a Brahmin. So the question is how can a Brahmin renouncer defined in a negative state be conceptually positive? ‘From the viewpoint of Brahmanical hermeneutics’ as Olivelle explains, rites (karma) are defined as actions that are enjoined by positive injunctions (vidhi) found either in the Vedas or in the smrtis. If renunciation

The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being 37 is defined as the abandonment or the non-performance of rites, then the renunciatory mode of life cannot be the object of any positive injunction. Further, because the abandonment of prescribed rites can be legitimate only if their abandonment is scripturally authorised, renunciation must be the subject of negative injunctions, namely prohibitions (nisedha). (1992: 64) If the negative state has to be a permanent state, then it must have some positive injunctions. The renouncer state is not a temporary state. At least theoretically it is, as Freiberger (2005) argues, an irreversible state. A renouncer’s actions are based not on the negation of the positive injunctions but on positively defined negative injunctions (Olivelle, 1992: 64). It creates a paradoxical situation. To put it simply, can the nivrttisastra be an injunction? Without being an injunction, non-action cannot be positive. The Brahmanical hermeneutics approached this paradox by introducing two types of injunctions: general and exclusive (ibid.). The injunctions for householders are general, and the injunctions for renouncers are exclusive. The extension of this definition is that the exclusive injunctions are an exception to the general and also do not violate any part of the general injunctions. The dharma of the renouncer is defined not by any injunctions but by prohibitions. The renunciations in Buddhism and Jainism are not defined through prohibitions. In both of these traditions, renouncing is defined as a positive state. The question that interests us is how can a state which is defined by prohibitions have a positive connotation within the theological construction? In the Brahmanical worldview, the non-ritual state of a renouncer is viewed as a perfect ritual state. ‘The non-ritual state of renunciation’ as Olivelle says, ‘is often depicted as the ultimate perfection of the ritual’ and ‘the abandonment of rites and ritual accessories’ are regarded as ‘the process of internalisation’ (ibid.: 68). The everyday activities of a Brahmin renouncer are equated with sacrifice (Kathasruti Upanisad: 39, Olivelle, 1992: 67). These are not simply theoretical issues. These have very serious implications in the self-making of the renouncer and the householder, because as Olivelle argues, the basic meaning of the term karma in all Brahmanical literature is a sacrifice (yajna), a fact that many modern scholars have ignored or are ignorant of. The primary meaning of the term Samnyasa, the most common word for renunciation in the Hindu vocabulary, is the abandonment of rites. (2011b: 52) Along with abandonment of rites, the Brahmin renouncer discards the external signifiers that essentially signify the Brahmin. When a Brahmin renouncer dies, he is buried and not cremated. That is, the renouncer’s body cannot be given to fire, as he is anagni. The paradox is that the renouncer

38  The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being who is identified as a true Brahmin, though ritually excluded, cannot be outside the social order. Though conceptually incorporeal, he is physically alive and hence must be located within the given order. The Brahmin renouncer is essentially conceptualised in a particular way, not only to make the existence of the renouncer meaningful but also the very existence of the community of Brahmins as Brahmins. The Brahmin renouncer becomes signified and the community of Brahmins signifiers. Only through this signifier-signified unification can the dual existence of Brahmin as a householder and as a sanyasi be resolved. The idea of true Brahmin even though can be seen even in Dharma literature, in the earlier Samnyasa Upanisads, they are part of the varnasrama. But Sankara defines the highest renouncer, a Paramahamsa sanyasi, as the true Brahmin and defines him as one who is not bound by varnasramadharma. This shift is very important in Brahmanical thinking. Naradaparivrajaka Upanisad, a text that was composed, according to Freiberger (2005), not before the 12th century, gives the ‘most detailed and extensive description’ of rites of renunciation. Though the Samnyasa Upanisads speak about the rite of renunciation, they are not uniform across all the Upanisads. Freiberger consolidates the rites as given in various Samnyasa Upanisads (I am omitting the name of the Upanisads which lists one or many of the injunctions listed here for clarity): The person indicates the end of his former life by cutting his sacrificial cord or discarding it on the ground or in water, by shaving his head and cutting off his topknot, by abandoning all his property, by transferring his knowledge and ritual authority to his son, by performing his last sacrifice with funeral mantras, and by discarding his sacrificial vessels and burning two fire drills. Therefore he is enjoined from ‘bringing back’, i.e., rekindling the fires and returning to ritual activity. The candidate expresses the beginning of his new life by internalizing the fires with a mantra which indicates a new beginning, by proclaiming the praisa ‘I have renounced!’ three times, by accepting the ascetic garment or the loincloth, the staff, and other ascetic requisites, and by bestowing freedom from fear on all beings. (Freiberger, 2005: 238) Whatever may be the rite of renunciation, the householder Brahmin has to discard his current status as a Brahmin and only then can become a renouncer. But what is he as a renouncer? According to the Advaita tradition, the renouncer is without any outward signifiers. Without any signifiers can a renouncer still be a Brahmin? Advaita tradition claims that only knowledge, and not rituals, contributes to liberation. Advaita, according to Olivelle, claims that work in general and ritual actions, in particular, contribute nothing toward the attainment of liberation and that knowledge is the sole cause of liberation. A renouncer, therefore, whose single aim

The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being 39 is liberation should give up everything connected with ritual activity. Advaita also claims that a renouncer can be enlightened and can, therefore, attain liberation while he is still physically present in the world (jivanmukta). Such a renouncer is not subject to injunctions or prohibitions; he is beyond dharma. (1986: 18) Here, dharma basically means dharmas of varna and asrama. Sankara clearly locates the sanyasi beyond the dharma of varna and asrama. Sankara’s commentary on the Brhadaranyaka Upanisad addresses the question of whether the renouncer in the Brahmanical tradition is a Brahmin or not. According to Sankara, a renouncer must give up all rites and ritual instruments, and must be without any signifiers like fire, topknot, and sacrificial cord. Sankara concludes his commentary thus: ‘He who knows the self, therefore, should resort only to the Paramahamsa type of renunciation, which is characterised by the turning away from (desires), and which consists of the abandonment of all rites and ritual instruments’ (Olivelle, 1986: 91). If we take the commentary of Sankara as a dialogue within the Brahmanical tradition, then we can conclude that he is specifically defining the state of being a Brahmin. Olivelle says that the Sankara’s argument is that ‘varna distinctions are related to the body which is totally different from the self: Thus an enlightened person cannot be related to a particular varna’ (1986: 34), and ‘Samkara regarded the renunciation of an enlightened person as beyond the asramadharma. He calls such a renouncer as atyasramin in a sense “beyond the asramas” ’ (1986: 54–55). Based on the above, we can summarise thus: according to Sankara, the Paramahamsa sanyasi is the true Brahmin, not the Brahmin who wears outward signs and performs rites or a renouncer Brahmin who renounces according to asrama definitions. In other words, all Brahmins, not only the householder Brahmins but also other types of renouncers who are not Paramahamsa sanyasi, are bound by Dharmas of varna and asrama. Paramahamsa sanyasi becomes the highest renouncer state in Advaita tradition, and such a renouncer becomes the highest Brahmin. A true Brahmin, a Paramahamsa sanyasi, is outside varna dharma and asrama dharma. In short, an ideal Brahmin is one who is outside the varnasramadharma. Finally, Sankara’s Advaita tradition has successfully individualised the Brahmin and laid the foundation for a new interpretation of an ‘ideal Brahmin’. Thus, a negative form becomes the perfect form of the source or the original, the Brahmin. The very body of the renouncer becomes a sacred site, constituted by negative injunctions. The irony is that the negative state becomes the ‘ideal’ state. The renouncer who has internalised everything that negates the householder becomes an ‘ideal’ Brahmin or ‘highest’ Brahmin. On one plane, the binary construct of the ritual/anti-ritual and its associated forms, householder/sanyasi, sanyasi/Nithyasanyasi, asramin/sarvashramin, become a mirror reflecting the mirror.

40  The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being When the funeral rites for the deceased are not performed by the son, the deceased father does not join his ancestors. He is in the state of preta (ghost). That is, he is neither in this world nor in the world of ancestors. He is in a liminal state. Since the Brahmin who renounce is in a preta state, he becomes an incorporeal entity. But the issue is that the body that embodies an ‘ideal’ Brahmin is still a Brahmin body. How do we make sense of the corporeal and incorporeal state being part of a single human body? A Brahmin body cannot be in the non-ritual state. Hence, though the renouncer in the physical Brahmin body is alive, the householder in the physical Brahmin body must be dead. Only a dead Brahmin can absolve himself from the ritual obligations. In short, the sanyasi becomes the signifier, signifying the dead Brahmin body as the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. ‘If renunciation is death [of the Brahmin]’, as Olivelle notes, ‘then renouncers may legitimately cease to perform the sacrifices’ (1992: 90). But a renouncer is located in a physical Brahmin body. The paradox is that if the Brahmin in the Brahmin renouncer is in the ritual state, the renouncer becomes dead. If the Brahmin in the householder Brahmin is in the nonritual state, the householder becomes dead. So, if the renouncer has to be alive, then the householder Brahmin in the Brahmin’s physical body must be conceptually dead. That is, within the ritualistic tradition of Brahmanism, the physical body which embodies the Brahmin renouncer is dead. Thus, the householder Brahmin becomes a preta. The rites of renunciation resemble the Brahmanical rite of cremation. The Brahmin body of the renouncer becomes the site of cremation. In all aspects, to sustain the ritual status of the householder Brahmin, and the non-ritual status of the renouncer, the Brahmin in the renouncer Brahmin must be dead both ritually and socially (he loses his property; in some cases, his wife can re-marry). We need to remember here that only the dead body loses the sense of touch or in other words the biological body loses the sense of touch if it becomes a corpse. (We will see the repercussions of this state when dealing with Sarukkai’s reading of untouchability.) The liminal state is associated with the boundary of the given order and this state is related to ‘contact’. The physical Brahmin body embodies both the ritual state householder Brahmin, conceptualised as dead, and the nonritual state sanyasi. A person who died recently is neither in this world nor in the world of his ancestors, but in a liminal state. The liminal states are basically seen as impure and dangerous in any given order, though the Brahmin renouncer is seen as above all in terms of purity-impurity issues. The notions of purity and impurity are related to ‘contact’. Untouchability is related to ‘touch’. The issues related to the physical Brahmin body that embodies both the householder and the renouncer is not related to ‘contact’ but to ‘touch’ related issues. The physical body that embodies both the householder Brahmin and the Brahmin renouncer does not possess the touch sense because, as a householder, it is in preta state and as a renouncer, it is a notional entity.

The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being 41 The renouncer does not have a life or body of his own. A dead householder Brahmin’s body embodies the renouncer. That is why the renunciation rites resemble the rites that are done for a householder Brahmin. So the question is who is in preta state: the Brahmin or the renouncer? The preta state is not applicable to the renouncer. The renouncer does not have any ancestors; he is not born to anyone. He does not beget offspring. He is a notional being. That is, the ‘ideal’ Brahmin becomes a notional being. The Naradaparivrajaka Upanisad (157) says, ‘a good ascetic should never disclose his name, lineage, and so forth, his Vedic school, the time and place of his birth, or his learning, rewards, age, conduct, vow, and piety’ (Olivelle, 1992: 186). The preta state is the internal state of the Brahmin (who has ancestors), and this internal state cannot possess the sense of touch. Since the renouncer is embodied in the dead body, the food that is taken by the renouncer is equated with the food that is taken by the dead body. Yatidharmaprakasa (68.30–38, Olivelle, 1992: 93–94) says that a renouncer’s food and water must not be taken by anyone, even when they are dying. To illustrate the above, Olivelle quotes the experience of Agehananda Bharati (1970), a Viennese, who became a Hindu ascetic. I took the last bath at the Ghat of Ten Horse sacrifices, offered tarpanam [‘water offering’] to Mother Ganga, worshipped Lord Viswanath at his Golden temple, partook of the prasad [food offered to a deity and then distributed to devotees] which the priest gave to me with his left hand: for this is the way food oblations are given to the sannyasi [renouncer] in the same manner as to the manes. For ritualistic purposes the sannyasi is dead, and his participation in any ritual can be only that of a witness or else in the same hierarchy as the dead to whose memory certain rituals are directed. When a sannyasi enters a temple, he blesses the idol, because as one who had shed desires and rebirth and who no longer participates in matters of phenomenal existence, he is above the god of the temple, whose interest in worldly affairs entitles him to dwell in a temple. (1992: 94) What a paradox! A living human being, as an ‘ideal’ Brahmin, an incorporeal being, is above God and as a householder Brahmin, a corporeal being is dead and impure. In the renouncer Brahmin construct, it is the Brahmin (essentially a householder) and not the renouncer who gets the prasad. As the sanyasi is above the deity, he cannot receive anything from it. Whereas, only the Brahmin, who is below the deity, can get the prasad. But since the Brahmin in the renouncer Brahmin is dead, prasad is given to him in the left hand as in ritual offerings made to deceased ancestors. In the renouncer Brahmin construct, the renouncer is above everything and everyone, above all dharmas, and the temporal power. This idea of a sanyasi, who is above god, above the king, above the Dharmas of varna and asrama, becomes a

42  The ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the dead being signifier. In the act of interpreting the idea of the Brahmin, the householder Brahmin acquires the incorporeal quality of the notional entity called the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. This paradox is what we saw in the experience of Nicholas Dirks with a Brahmin called PMS. In summary, I would like to say the sanyasi who evolved against everything the idea of Brahmin stands for becomes the signifier of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin who is ritually and legally dead, incorporeal, and possesses the un-touch sense. How then does the dead body, which is impure, incorporeal, and does not have the sense of touch, become a reality? How are the boundaries of the householder Brahmin and ‘ideal’ Brahmin constructed? I wish to argue, taking Sarukkai’s reading of untouchability, that the boundaries of the householder Brahmin are related to ‘contact’ and that of ‘ideal’ Brahmin (Paramahamsa sanyasi) is related to touch. Since touch is one phenomenological experience of ‘contact’, when there is no ‘contact’ there is no ‘touch’. Further, ‘contact’ related issues are associated with notions of purity and pollution and subject-object duality, and ‘touch’ related issues are always subject-centric. In the next chapter, we will see how Brahmanism constructed the householder Brahmin body and renouncer Brahmin body to differentiate between ‘contact’ and ‘touch’ related issues.

Notes 1 The same reading is put forth by Uma Chakravarthi (2006). 2 Olivelle (1992: 36n22) notes that the ‘the social composition of the monks is given in a commentary that dates from the fifth century C.E., and the dates of the Theraand Therī-gathā are also uncertain. The conclusions, therefore are to be used with caution. There is, however, ample evidence of numerous Brahmin converts to the Buddhistmonastic order’. 3 Refer to Kumkum Roy (2010: 23–24) for details about social composition. 4 The ‘science is objective’ thesis has been challenged by many philosophers. That is why scientists do not generally like philosophers. For a more detailed analysis of scientists, science, and ‘doing’ science, see Sarukkai, 2002b. 5 The older one includes the Aruni, Laghu-Samnyasa and Kundika, Kathasruthi, Paramahamasa, Jabala, and Brahma Upanisads. The younger one includes Maitreya, Naradaparivrajaka (1150 CE), Nirvana, Bhikshu, Turiyatitavadhuta, Brhat-Samnyasa, Paramahamsaparivrajaka, Parabrahma, Brhad-Avadhuta, Yajnavalkaya, Satyayaniya (1200 CE), and Laghu-Avadhuta. In between the older and the younger, Olivelle locates the Asrama Upanisad (300 CE) (see Olivelle 1992: 3–11).

2 Physical body and social body

In this chapter, we will focus on the metaphysics of body and notions of purity and pollution in the Brahmanical framework. We will also see how the boundaries of social bodies are structured through the notions of purity and pollution. We saw in the previous chapter how the sanyasi became the signifier, signifying the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. We also saw how by unifying the signified and the signifier, the dual existence of a Brahmin as a householder and as a renouncer was overcome. We can observe the same duality in conceptualising the physical body: that of a householder Brahmin body and a Brahmin renouncer body. All culturally created and perceived bodies, as Olivelle defines, stand ‘as the primary symbol of the social body, the body politic. Bodily appearance, movement, and functions – from dress, hair, food, and toilet to excrement, sexual fluids, and menstrual discharge – are given cultural and socially determined meanings’ (2011b: 102). He also discusses Mary Douglas’s reading of the relationship between the physical body and the social body. Douglas, in her book, Natural Symbols: Explorations in Cosmology, explores the exchange of meaning between the physical body and the social body. The social body constrains the way the physical body is perceived. The physical experience of the body, always modified by the social categories through which it is known, sustains a particular view of society. There is a continual exchange of meanings between the two kinds of bodily experience so that each reinforces the categories of the order. As a result of this interaction, the body itself is a highly restricted medium of expression. The forms it adopts in movement and repose express social pressures in manifold ways. The care that is given to it, in grooming, feeding, and therapy, the theories about what it needs in the way of sleep and exercise, about the stages it should go through, the pains it can stand, its span of life, all the cultural categories in which it is perceived, must correlate closely with the categories in which the society is seen so far these also draw upon the same culturally processed idea of the body. (Douglas, 1982: 65, in Olivelle, 2011b: 102)

44  Physical body and social body As the social body constrains the physical body, we will see how a Brahmin body is conceptualised in two stages. In the first stage, consolidating Olivelle’s reading, we will discuss the conceptual positions of a sanyasi body and a householder Brahmin body. In the second stage, we will see how both the sanyasi and the householder Brahmin are embodied in a single physical Brahmin body. Embodying two conflicting concepts in a single body can be possible only when that particular body is positioned above all dualities. That is a physical Brahmin body has to be above the duality of householder and renouncer. The notions of purity and pollution are structured on subject-object duality, and it is associated with the phenomenology of contact. Hence the practice of untouchability would not have evolved from the notions of purity and pollution. A physical body can be above all dualities only when that body completely closes itself from this world. This complete closure is possible only when that body becomes a corpse. The act of unifying two different and contradictory conceptualisations into a single body, of a householder Brahmin and a Brahmin renouncer, is both theologically and metaphysically a complex issue. We need to locate the source of untouchability in the unification of the signified and the signifier. It is in this context, the philosophical reading of untouchability by Sarukkai offers a radical framework in which to understand how the sanyasi body supplements the community of Brahmins as Brahmins. The boundaries of the social body define and conceptualise the boundaries of a physical body. These boundaries must have social legitimacy for the physical bodies to have a meaningful existence. A system or a given order defines the boundaries. Mary Douglas convincingly argues that ‘there is no such thing as absolute dirt: it exists in the eye of the beholder . . . dirt offends against order’ (1984: 2). ‘Reflection on dirt’, she continues, ‘involves reflection on the relation of order to disorder, being to non-being, form to formlessness, life to death. Wherever ideas of dirt are highly structured their analysis discloses a play upon such profound themes’ (ibid.: 5–6). The idea of Brahmin plays an essential role not only in conceptualising the physical body but also in defining what is dirt. The idea of Brahmin becomes the order, being, and form. Extending Douglas’s argument, Olivelle states that if dirt is an essential part of the given order, then related to ‘social perception of the human body’ the notions of dirt or impurities are manifested as anxieties about inlets and outlets of the biological body (2011b: 102–103). Two important points are raised in the above statements: (1) Dirt exists in the eye of the beholder. The subject assigns a value to the object. The subjectobject duality comes into play. (2) The human body is split into inside and outside, connected through inlet/outlet and margins. We need to look into both of these from the perspective of a householder and a renouncer in the Brahmanical tradition. This needs to be looked into from two stages. As we saw earlier, the first stage is one in which the householder Brahmin body and the renouncer Brahmin body existed as separate entities. The second stage is one in which both the householder and the renouncer are embodied in a single physical body.

Physical body and social body 45 The anxieties about the integrity of the social order are directly related to the anxieties of purity of the body. Both the social order and bodily purity is premised on the notion of boundary. The encompassing boundary, as a result, focusses itself on the inlet and outlet. In short, the notions of inside and outside define the social body and the social order. Each complements and structures the other (Olivelle, 2011b: 103). The anxieties of the social order reflect on the conceptualisation of the body, and the anxieties of bodily purity reflect on defining the social order. In Brahmanism, since the householder body and the renouncer body conceptualise the idea of inside and the outside differently, the anxieties expressed by them are also different. I wish to argue that the anxieties of a householder are related to the phenomenology of contact (with subject-object duality) and those of renouncer are related to the phenomenology of touch (subject-centric). In Brahmanism, from the householder’s perspective, the body (inside) is seen as pure but always threatened by impurities or dirt (outside). This anxiety of a householder leads to minute prescriptions regarding the maintenance of bodily purity: when and how to bathe; how to purify after eating, defecating, and urinating, after sexual intercourse and menstruation, after touching anything or anybody impure; what to eat; from whom to accept food; with whom one can have sexual, social, or physical contact; and so on. (Olivelle, 2011b: 103) There are no such anxieties in the renouncer perspective. The renouncer body has a different set of anxieties. If the householder Brahmin body locates the impurities ‘outside’, the renouncer tradition sees the human body itself as essentially composed of impurities. That is, the renouncer tradition locates the impurities ‘inside’. We will look into how the binaries of pure/ impure, inside/outside operated in these two categories.

Purity and pollution In the existing scholarships on caste and untouchability, the relationships between discrete jatis are approached through the anthropological matrix of purity and pollution. As many scholars have acknowledged, Louis Dumont is the father of purity-pollution thesis. According to him, the distance between the non-Brahmin jatis (including Dalits) and the Brahmin jatis on the puritypollution scale measures the hierarchical position of a particular jati in the caste order. If, as Douglas states, the dirt or impurity is in the eyes of the beholder, then where do we locate the beholder on the purity-­pollution scale? Looking at it differently, a Brahmin who enters the untouchable colony is seen as impure and dangerous. In certain instances, when Brahmins enter an untouchable colony, they even got killed.1 How can we make sense of this in the purity-pollution matrix? Though many scholars have rightly pointed

46  Physical body and social body out the limitation of Dumont’s purity-pollution framework, they have not attempted to make sense of untouchability, and those who try to problematise untouchability relate it to the notions of purity-pollution. That is, untouchability is seen as the extreme form of purity-pollution. Many scholars have observed that ‘purity and pollution are not the primary coordinates’ in the caste order. But these scholars do not address the issue of untouchability. So, we have two approaches: (1) scholars who attempt to bring out the limitations of the purity-pollution framework, but would not address the issue of untouchability and (2) scholars who attempt to address untouchability read it through the notions of purity and pollution. I wish to argue that untouchability is not related to the notions of purity-pollution. In the Dharma texts, the notions of purity and pollution are related to varnas and not jatis. The ‘technical literature on Dharma (dharmasastra)’, Olivelle argues, ‘recognises only the division of human society into four varnas and their social ideology is based on varna and not on caste [jati], castes being subsumed under varna ideology as hybrid forms’ (2011a: 218). Though there might have been some sort of social groupings within the categorical framework of varnas, I am inclined to say that they do not yet possess the characteristic features of jatis. Then, how did the anxieties of purity-pollution manifested in the Dharma literature become an essential feature of the relationship between jatis? How do we correlate the notions of purity-pollution and untouchability? To address these questions we need to consolidate the notions of purity and pollution in Brahmanical literature. Dharmasastras become an important source to understand the notion of purity and pollution in the Brahmanical framework. Olivelle’s scholarly reading of the Dharmasastras is an extraordinary source on which I wish to build my arguments. I will attempt to consolidate the readings of Olivelle on purity-impurity in dharma texts. The Dharma literature expresses the bodily anxieties of a householder Brahmin. I would like to call these anxieties ‘categorical anxieties’. How these categorical anxieties become an inherent part of jatis is an issue we can look into later. The Dharmasastras speaks about categorical partitions and not about social groups or social aggregates. The imaginary of the Dharmasastra authors are varna based. The varna categories are hierarchically defined. Are the notions of purity and pollution also hierarchically defined? Is it possible to define the notions of purity and pollution hierarchically? If the notions of purity and pollution are based on the subject/object, inside/outside dualities, then defining the notions of purity and pollution hierarchically is conceptually impossible. Empirically, the subject/object, inside/outside dualities exist among all the jatis. Each and every discrete jati has an inside/outside and also has particular notions of purity and pollution. It is generally assumed that Brahmanism is fundamentally built on the notions of purity and pollution to safeguard the pure state of the Brahmin body. The prevailing readings on caste are premised on this thesis. But the pure state is an absolute one. There is no human activity in the absolute pure state (or in the absolute impure state). If this is the case, how do we

Physical body and social body 47 understand the anxieties about bodily purity as expressed in Dharma literature? Olivelle, in his brilliant essay, ‘Caste and Purity: A Study in the Language of the Dharma Literature’ (2011a: 217–245), argues that to understand the notions of purity in Brahmanism the best way is to look for the vocabulary of purity/impurity in Sanskrit. He comes to the conclusion that fundamentally questions all the existing theoretical studies on caste, based on the purity-pollution matrix. Olivelle argues that scholars regularly use Sanskritic equivalents in dealing with purity under a tacit assumption that this will somehow take us closer to the reality on the ground. Yet, there is no single term in Sanskrit for either the substantives ‘purity/impurity’ or the adjectives ‘pure/impure’. The existence of a large number of terms in a language for a broad area of human experience is prima facie evidence for that area being central to that culture and for its nuanced and often technical treatment by that culture. It is interesting to note, however, that, despite the enormous amount of writing on the concepts of purity in India, there has been no sustained and detailed study of Sanskrit (or other vernacular) terms for ‘pure/impure’. (2011a: 219–220) Olivelle lists seven families for the term pure and impure in Dharma literature. Further, he makes a very detailed analysis of these seven families. For our purpose, we will limit ourselves to his conclusions. These conclusions have a far-reaching impact on caste studies in terms of purity and pollution. The foremost question is this: does the Dharma literature refer to a person or a group of people when using the terms for pure or impure? According to Olivelle, the vocabulary of pure/impure in the Dharma literature makes a clear distinction between persons and things. Although a variety of objects and animals are characterised as impure, the main focus is on bodily discharges, those oozing substances that violate the boundary of the human body. And when it comes to persons, ‘the vocabulary clearly indicates that the focus is not on any permanent, or even transitory, conditions of purity but rather on the transition from impurity to purity, on the recovery of lost purity’ (2011a: 240). A human body cannot be in a state of absolute purity. The everydayness of our existence constantly makes our bodies impure. Hence the focus is on ‘the transition from impurity to purity, on the recovery of lost purity’. The notions of purity are nothing but structuring an order, and impurity is something that threatens that order. Recovery is restoring the order. Ritual purification is an act of restoring the given order. The given order not only

48  Physical body and social body defines what is impure but also defines the modes of recovering. Olivelle is categorical in stating that there is ‘no instance when a term for pure/impure is used with reference to a group of individuals or to a varna or caste, the only exception being people who have fallen from their caste due to grievous sins; those are called asuci’ adding that, ‘grievous sinners and Candalas are placed in the same group of “fallen” and treated alike in the dharma texts’ (2011a: 240). People who are grievous sinners and people who are classified as Candalas are not to be touched. Since ‘touch’ is one part of the phenomenological experience of ‘contact’, the people ‘inside’ cannot have any contact with those who are ‘outside’ the given order. When there is no ‘contact’, there is no ‘touch’. These people become un-touched people. In Dharma literature, the words for impure are concerned only with individuals who have fallen from the moral framework of the given order, irrespective of their birth. These individuals have lost their purity and are in need of recovering their purity. We can argue that the Dharma literature defines or creates objects that cannot be touched since there are outside the purview of contact. The impure objects are a by-product of the given order. That is, when a subject which is ‘inside’ gets into contact with an object that is ‘outside’, the subject becomes impure, and hence, needs to recover the pure state. These anxieties are an essential part of the self-making of the subject in a given order. The anxieties expressed in Dharma literature do not establish the mode of relationships between the varnas. They define the self-making of the subject of a particular category. If the notions of purity define the mode of relationship between varnas, as Olivelle says, ‘we should expect to find at least some comment on the relative purity/impurity of the different varnas’ (ibid.: 241). In Dharma literature, the notions of purity focus on the anxieties of a categorical subject and not on the mode of relationship between the categories. The notions of purity/impurity are not just related to ‘outside’ or ‘inside’ of the body but are fundamentally related to self-making. Let us take the case of pain. In the secular framework, the human experience of pain is projected as a negative experience, in opposition to pleasure as a positive experience. Pain has to be removed from the body. But, the pain is not a hostile alien within the body. The human experience of pain is not felt by the body; it defines the body and the social relationship of that body. Talal Azad writes, ‘pain is not merely a private experience, but a public relation as Wittgenstein taught long ago’ (2003: 81). The best example is Gandhi. Only through his self-inflicted pain did Gandhi become Gandhi. Through bodily pain, Gandhi evolved his social self. His actions and sufferings evolved his social self and determined his mode of relationship with the larger society (in particular Dalits and Muslims). Gandhi did not see the experience of pain as the state of the victim or a negative experience. He saw pain as one that enables meaningful social relations. Talal further writes, What a subject experiences as painful, and how, are not simply mediated culturally and physically, they are themselves modes of living a

Physical body and social body 49 relationship. The ability to live such relationships over time transforms pain from a passive experience into an active one, and thus defines one of the ways of living sanely in the world. Talal also warns, ‘It does not follow, of course, that one cannot or should not seek to reform the social relations one inhabits, still less that pain is intrinsically “a valuable” thing’ (2003: 84). Though Talal Azad discusses pain in a different context, I bring this into our discussion to establish the fact that the notions of purity/impurity define a subject and the subject’s mode of living the social relationships. The anxieties of the body are nothing but a manifestation of the anxieties of the category within which the body finds meaning for its very existence. These anxieties define a subject as a categorical individual. The categorical individual is a subject who fits himself into a categorical order and the anxieties manifested are essentially part of that order, and that order essentially creates dirt or impurity. If the notions of purity/impurity are related to the state of defining the subject, what is the role of purity/impurity in the hierarchical stratification of the society? Olivelle argues convincingly that purity/impurity does not have any role in the hierarchical stratification of society. For example, the Purusa hymn of the Rig Veda (10.90) is frequently quoted to establish the hierarchical position of the varnas based on purity and pollution: Brahmin/ mouth/pure, Sudra/feet/impure. Here mouth and feet establish the hierarchical relationship and not the pure/impure state (Olivelle, 2011a: 241). That Brahmins are created from the mouth does not mean the mouth is pure and hence Brahmins are pure. There is a reference in the Manava Dharmasastra (1.92) to the Brahmin coming from the mouth (mukha) which is the “purest” (medhyatama) part of the body. But no explicit conclusion is drawn from this fact that Brahmin is purer than other varnas, only that he is the ‘lord of the whole creation’ and that gods consume offerings through the medium of Brahmin’s mouth. (Olivelle, 2011a: 240, n33) We can correlate the ‘the lord of the whole creation’ with Veena Das’s reading of Dharmaranya Purana. In the Purana, only after the Brahmins are created physical space and physical body becomes social. In the Purana, to differentiate the Brahmins, Sudras are created. Though the Purusa hymn definitely establishes hierarchy, it cannot be linked to the notions of purity/ impurity. Mary Douglas defines impurity or dirt as a by-product of a system. She further says that dirt is ‘never a unique, isolated event. Where there is dirt, there is a system. Dirt is the by-product of a systematic ordering and classification of matter, in so far as ordering involves rejecting inappropriate elements’ (1984: 36). The anxieties regarding the impurity or

50  Physical body and social body dirt in the Dharma literature act as the means to define and safeguard the categorical boundaries. These categorical anxieties, which are social in nature, have to be transformed to the body and as Olivelle states, the body has to become the ‘locus for expressing all these concerns, especially the concern for maintaining purity’ (2011a: 241). Is the human waste impure because of its intrinsic quality or is it the by-product of the body system? Mary Douglas explains how ‘rejected elements of the ordered system’ become dirt. We can recognise in our own notions of dirt that we are using a kind of omnibus compendium which includes all the rejected elements of ordered systems. It is a relative idea. Shoes are not dirty in themselves, but it is dirty to place them on the dining-table; food is not dirty in itself, but it is dirty to leave cooking utensils in the bedroom, or food bespattered on clothing; similarly, bathroom equipments in the ­drawing-room; clothing lying on chairs; out-door things in-doors; upstairs thing downstairs; under-clothing appearing where over-clothing should be, and so on. In short, our pollution behaviour is the reaction which condemns any object or idea likely to confuse or contradict cherished classifications. (1984: 37) The notion of dirt or impurity defines the self and the mode of relationship with the object. The body becomes the model for any given social order. The social anxieties of the categories become bodily anxieties of the categorical subject. The body is a model which can stand for any bounded system. Its boundaries can represent any boundaries which are threatened or precarious. The body is a complex structure. The functions of its different parts and their relation afford a source of symbols for other complex structure. We cannot possibly interpret rituals concerning excreta, breast milk, saliva and the rest unless we are prepared to see in the body a symbol of society and to see the powers and dangers credited to social structure reproduced in small on the human body. (1984: 116) Breaching the social boundaries or categorical partitions gets through the human body. The ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ of the body depend on the social construction to which the body is subjected. Without the notion of inside/ outside, pure/impure, the body cannot be conceptualised; boundaries cannot be created. But the notion of inside/outside itself is a problematic one. Sarukkai problematises this in his essay ‘Inside/Outside: Merleau-Ponty/ Yoga’ (2002a). Though he discusses the inside/outside in a different context, I think correlating some of his insights with what we are discussing

Physical body and social body 51 may be useful. He writes, at the beginning of the article, ‘the binary of inside and outside is a consequence of duality inherent in many philosophical traditions’ and says that ‘it is pertinent to note here that articulating a philosophical concept of a “side” is itself problematical’. Then how do we get the perception of our ‘inside’? Where is the boundary located? In discussing Merleau-Ponty’s philosophy, Sarukkai states that ‘the perception of the world is dependent on and shaped by the way we perceive and use our own body. We understand the world as we understand the body’. The reason for bringing Sarukkai’s reading of inside/outside is just to establish the fact that the dirt or impurity is not ‘outside’ or ‘inside’ the body, but is defined from a particular perspective of the body and the society. Since the body is seen as pure and constantly threatened by the ‘external’ impurities, the rules and practices in the Dharma texts express the anxieties of recovering the pure state of the householder Brahmin’s body. The Dharma literature extends the notion of inside and outside to the spatial and temporal world. Spatial boundaries are related to inside/outside, and temporal boundaries are related to ‘betwixt and between’ – the margins. Olivelle discusses events that cause ‘anadhyaya or the suspension of Vedic recitation’ (2011a: 242). In the spatial boundary, the movement from outside to inside (entry to the village) or from inside to outside (leaving a village) causes anadhyaya. This is not related to the quality of a person who moves into a village or out of the village. The very movement itself disrupts the existing order. Birth and death disrupt the existing order. At the same time, the death of an infant, ascetics, outcasts do not cause anadhyaya, because they are outside the given order or not fully incorporated into the given order (ibid.: 242–243). Similar to spatial boundaries, there are time-related suspensions (ibid.). Olivelle’s reading of anadhyaya is very important to understand the notions of purity and pollutions. What exists on the boundary or ‘outside’ the boundary are not subjected to impurity by itself. They create disorder or impurity only if they come into ‘contact’ with the given order. Because of this, notions of purity/impurity only affect people who are part of the given order. People who are outside or on the boundaries of the given order are not affected by these notions. Further, people who are on the margins, as Olivelle argues, are not permitted to engage in purificatory acts while they are in that state: thus menstruating women are not permitted to bathe or comb their hair before the conclusion of that period; people in mourning cannot bathe; and according to some, a student is not allowed to bathe or brush his teeth. (ibid.) The examples given by Olivelle state the condition for those who are on the margins for a temporary period and who can purify themselves when their period of being in an impure state ends. They become part of the given

52  Physical body and social body order. But people who are outside or on the margins of the given order permanently, though they exist physically, do not exist. Mary Douglas writes, All margins are dangerous. If they are pulled this way or that the shape of fundamental experience is altered. Any structure of ideas is vulnerable at its margins. We should expect the orifices of the body to symbolise its specially vulnerable points. Matter issuing from them is marginal stuff of the most obvious kind. Spittle, blood, milk, urine, faeces or tears by simply issuing forth have traversed the boundary of the body. So also have bodily parings, skin, nail, hair clippings and sweat. The mistake is to treat bodily margins in isolation from all other margins. There is no reason to assume any primacy for the individual’s attitude to his own bodily and emotional experience, any more than for his cultural and social experience. (1984: 122) Through the human body, a particular worldview gets its form. This is fundamental to the way a human body makes sense of itself – Mary Douglas summarises M.N. Srinivas’ reading of the Coorgs. The notions of purity and pollution of Coorg society, related to ‘inside’ and ‘outside’, are no different from what we saw in the Dharma literature. She writes, the ritual life of the Coorgs gives the impression of people obsessed with the fear of dangerous impurities entering their system. They treat the body as if it were a beleaguered town, every ingress and exit guarded for spies and traitors. Anything issuing from the body is never to be re-admitted but strictly avoided. The most dangerous pollution is for anything which has once emerged gaining re-entry. (ibid.: 124) A Coorg goddess was tricked into taking out of her mouth the betel that she was chewing to see if it was redder than the opponents in the competition and popping back again. The goddess gets defeated. The re-entry of the betel into the mouth is seen as dangerous. The physical body ultimately becomes the social body only by interpreting the entry and exit points, and these are nothing but the inherent anxieties of a particular order. The categorical anxieties are related to ‘contact’ and contact is inherently connected with boundaries. Only in ‘contact’ is recovering possible, because the notions of purity-pollution are fundamentally object-centric and are also based on subject-object relationships. When a subject comes into contact with something or someone who is on the margins or outside, the pure state has to be restored. The anxieties of a given order are basically concerned not with absolute purity but with the continuous act of purifying or recovering the pure state of the subject. The anxieties to safeguard the boundaries of the categories can be made real, meaningful, and legitimate only by defining

Physical body and social body 53 them bodily, which is located within the given order. ‘It is purification’, as Olivelle summarises, ‘not purity that is at the heart of the system’ (ibid.: 245). We need to note that the notions of purity and pollution allow the act of purification. In untouchability, the act of purification has no meaning. Further, untouchability is not related to the pure or impure state of a being, either as subject or as an object. As the classifiers of the society, and meaning-makers (as defined by themselves), it becomes imperative that the Brahmins define their body as the locus of the pure state, but always threatened by external impurities. At the end of his illuminating essay, Olivelle summarises elegantly: In a totally pure world, time would stand still, there will be no change; the world of total purity, ironically, would be a world of death. To be totally and always pure is not only impossible but from a variety of perspectives a highly undesirable condition. But that is pushing the system to its absurd limit. Purity is one among many competing and often contradictory values of human existence and human society. The purpose of rules of impurity is not to ensure permanent purity but to make people anxious about becoming impure when they become impure, as they must, to make them anxious about recovering their lost purity. This anxiety, finally, is an integral part of the socialising process that sustains and strengthens cultural and social boundaries, including the caste system. (ibid.) The last sentence in the above quotation needs a bit of parsing. Olivelle states emphatically that the rules and practices related to purity-impurity could not have evolved either the varna scheme or the caste order. They can only sustain a given order. He also correctly states that boundaries are prerequisite so that the notions of purity – impurity can strengthen these boundaries. Therefore the given order must be pre-existing, and the bodily anxieties ‘strengthen cultural and social boundaries, including the caste system’. If so, what is the essential order that these anxieties aim to strengthen? We will attempt to address this issue later through Sarukkai’s philosophical reading of phenomenology of contact and touch. Olivelle’s scholarly reading of the Dharma literature brings out the complex process of the self-making of a categorical subject, a Brahmin. All the rules discussed above have one thing in common: they are object-centric (betelnut that comes out of the mouth, menstruating women, infants, ascetics, etc.). A value is assigned to the objects. The state of purity or impurity of the object is dependent on the assigned value. The Sanskrit terms in Dharma literature for pure/impure speaks about the state of a subject with reference to the value assigned to the object that has the potential to causes impurity. All the prescriptions related to the pure/impure state are basically objectoriented. The subject self-defines through assigning a value to the objects.

54  Physical body and social body In this self-making process, the objects evolve the subject’s state. If we take Douglas’s thesis that dirt is the by-product of the system, then the very selfmaking of the Brahmin has to create corresponding impurities to make their self-definition legitimate and meaningful. As stated earlier, the studies on purity and impurity generally do not address the issue of untouchability. Olivelle’s extraordinary scholarship on purity and pollution also could not accommodate the practice of untouchability. The reason is simple. In the Dharma literature untouchability is not an issue. Untouchability is not the by-product of the caste order or varna scheme or notions of purity-pollution. Untouchability is one essential part of the caste order. Untouchability is not related to dirt or impurities. The rules and practices discussed above, that is, the categorical anxieties, are reconceptualised through untouchability in the caste order and transformed as the anxieties of discrete jatis and jati subjects. The conceptual untouchability has to be located in the unified Brahmin body, that embodies both the householder Brahmin and the Brahmin renouncer. We will look into how the physical bodies of householder Brahmin and a renouncer are constructed in Brahmanism. We saw that the Brahmin’s body (which essentially means a householder) was conceptualised as pure and always threatened by external impurities. But the renouncer tradition in Brahmanism saw the human body itself as essentially made of impurities. The householder Brahmin and renouncer Brahmin are two separate and distinct entities in both the early and later asrama system. We also saw that post-Sankara these two entities got unified in the body of an ‘ideal’ Brahmin. We need to address the contradiction between the body of the householder Brahmin and the renouncer Brahmin, as well as how they are unified in a single body, to conceptually understand untouchability.

A unified Brahmin body The householder Brahmin body is essentially defined as pure and always subjected to the continuous threat of impurity from outside. In contrast, the Brahmanical ascetic tradition completely negates this narration of the human body. The ascetic tradition correlates the human body to a house and the samsaric life. Both are filled with filth and undesirable elements. In the householder thesis, restoring the pure state of the body is a life-giving process. The ascetic tradition negates this process and sees the act of restoring the pure state as meaningless. Though the ascetic tradition does not have the categorical anxieties of the householder; it has got a different set of anxieties. Conceptually, as well as practically, it has to depend on the very human body it negates and samsaric life it rejects for its very existence. We need to remember that the narrative of the ascetic perspective is part of the system. We will try to consolidate from Olivelle’s essay, ‘Deconstruction of the Body in Indian Asceticism’ (2011b), to understand how the renouncer’s body was conceptualised. The ascetic discourse sees the body, ‘as impure in

Physical body and social body 55 its very essence, the source indeed of all pollution’ (ibid.: 103). The ascetic discourse did not locate the impurities or filth ‘outside’ the body; it locates them ‘inside’. Since this very body is created from the filth, any amount of purification does not make this human body pure. The Maitreya Upanisad (113–114) sees this human body as one that is born from the filth both of the mother and a father. It says: Made with its mother’s and father’s filth, this body dies soon after it is born. It is a filthy house of joy and grief. When it is touched, a bath is ordained. By its very nature, foul secretions continuously ooze out from its nine openings. It smells foul and it contains awful filth. When it is touched, a bath is ordained. Through its mother, the body is impure at birth; in birth – impurity, it is born. It is impure also through death. When it is touched, a bath is ordained. (Tr., Olivelle, 2011b: 103–104) Here the issue is about touching, and also different from what Dharma literature problematise. The Maitreya Upanisad does not raise any question about touching something that is ‘outside’ the subject’s body. It raises a question about a subject touching his own body. It talks about one part of the subject’s body touching another part of the same body, which composes a whole. That is why this Upanisad says that ‘after touching the body, one must surely bathe. But of course, that is impossible, because one is constantly in touch with one’s body’ (ibid.: 104). Asceticism moves the discourse from ‘contact’ to ‘touch’. When we contact something that is impure, then we can purify ourselves. But when a part of the body is in contact with another part of the body that compose the whole, is purification ever possible? This is impossible. The ascetic tradition has problematised the issue related to the sense of touch. We will see more on this through MerleauPonty’s study on the phenomenology of touch later. The Maitreya Upanisad (108, Olivelle, 2011b: 104) associates this body with bones, flesh, faeces, urine, wind, bile, phlegm, marrow, fat, serum. The ascetic perspective conceptualises the body as essentially made of impurities and problematises the sense of touch. The body, as Olivelle observes, is not only ‘associated with excrement and bodily discharges’ but also ‘disassociated from consciousness’ (ibid.). There is consciousness in the act of contact. But in the act of touch, there is no consciousness. When we breathe, we are not conscious of the act of breathing. Similarly, we are not conscious of the sense of touch. To touch is to act. Ascetic discourse asks why must a human act? The question the ascetic tradition raises is that if the body is essentially made of impurities then how can that be made pure? Any given order defines itself as pure only by locating the impurities outside. If the given order itself is made of impurities then how can we locate the impurities outside the given order?

56  Physical body and social body Not only the body, but the house is also seen as essentially impure. When we say house, it is the entire worldview that is centred on the householder. The Naradaparivrajaka Upanisad (144 and 160), a medieval text, equates the body to the house and rejects both. Let him abandon this impermanent dwelling place of the elements. It has beams of bones tied with tendons. It is plastered with flesh and blood and thatched with skin. It is foul-smelling, filled with faeces and urine, and infested with old-age and grief. Covered with dust and harassed with pain, it is the abode of disease. If a man finds joy in the body – a heap of flesh, blood, pus, faeces, urine, tendons, marrow, and bones – that fool will find joy even in hell. Those who take delight in this collection of skin, flesh, blood, tendons, marrow, fat, and bones, stinking with faeces and urine – what difference is there between them and worms. (Tr., Olivelle, 2011b: 105) Buddhism also equated the human body with a house. An ascetic can leave his home and become a wanderer. But how can he leave his body, which is nothing but his other home? To leave the body, it has to become a corpse. The ascetic tradition in both Brahmanism and Buddhism encouraged seeing the body as a corpse (Olivelle, 2011b: 107). The corpse does not possess the sense of touch; it possesses un-touch sense. Asceticism similar to abandoning the house also tries to abandon the body by deconstructing the householder body. If the householder body is constructed on the idea of ‘outside’ and ‘inside’, asceticism negates the very idea of ‘inside’ and ‘outside’. The idea of a boundary between the inside and outside from the householder perspective is completely disrupted by the ascetic tradition. The margins, bodily inlet and outlet, are made meaningless. If the householder body is the order, the renouncer body is the disorder. Mary Douglas (1982: 70–71) argues: If there is no concern to preserve social boundaries, I would not expect to find concern with bodily boundaries. The relation of head to feet, of the brain and sexual organs, of mouth and anus, are commonly treated so that they express the relevant patterns of hierarchy. She adds that ‘bodily control is an expression of social control – the abandonment of bodily control in ritual responds to the requirements of a social experience which is being expressed’ (in Olivelle, 2011b: 121–122). In Brahmanism, the idea of impurities determines the difference between the householder and renouncer worldviews. Both accept the idea of impurity but locate them differently. Asceticism did not negate the idea of impurity. It, in fact, takes it to the level of the absolute. Defining the body differently

Physical body and social body 57 is related to these different ideas of impurities. The act of purification or restoring the pure state involves human actions, be it ritual or social. But the ascetic perspective negates human action. The movement from the householder to the ascetic is not only a movement from ritual state to non-ritual state but also human action to inaction, from home to homelessness, from permanent to impermanent, from order to disorder, outside to inside, group to individual, procreation to celibacy, anxieties about entry-exit points of the human body to care-freeness, pure to impure, culture to anti-culture, and also, a movement from life to death. Buddhism did not construct its ascetic values in contrast to the householder. It did not evolve as an antithesis to the householder. The householder exists in the worldview of Buddhism, but as one who is in bondage and is to be liberated. Gombrich quotes the dialogue between a young Brahmin and the Buddha in Subha Sutta (Majhima Nikaya, II, 197–9): Subha, a young Brahmin asks the Buddha whether a householder is not better than a renouncer (pabbajita), to which the Buddha replies that he condemns bad conduct and commends good whether the doer is householder or renouncer. Subha persists: Brahmins say that the householder has great responsibilities and an arena for action (kamma) which allows him to gain great results, whereas the renouncer has a limited area for action and correspondingly limited results. The Buddha again declines to generalise. Whether a way of life is full of cares and responsibilities or comparatively free of them, he says, it may go wrong and bring meagre results or go well and bring great results. He then supplies a simile. The life of the householder is hard work like agriculture while that of the renouncer easy like the trade. But either may go well or badly. (2006: 82) One thing is clear: Buddhism did not address the anxieties inherent in the householder worldview. The monastic institution in Buddhism evolved as a parallel world, and its concerns are limited to that world. The parallel world that Buddhism created became a sub-system within a larger world. But in Brahmanism, the mutts (monastic institutions), not only of the Brahmin jatis but also of non-Brahmin and Dalit jatis, did not evolve as a sub-system. The mutts are an essential part of the system (we will see more on mutts in Chapter 5). As the householder and the ascetic worldviews in Brahmanism stand in opposition to each other, on what basis can they continue as part of a single system? The ascetic tradition, to become a parallel world, has to become a sub-system within the wider system. A sub-system has to adopt a different set of rules and practices. Mary Douglas (1982) notes that in sub-systems: We can see another restricted code taking over. The body is still the image of the society, but somewhere inside it, someone is not accepting

58  Physical body and social body its rule. I am suggesting that the symbolic medium of the body has its restricted code to express and sustain the alienation of a sub-category from the wider society. In this code the claims of the body and of the wider society are not highly credited: bodily grooming, diet, pathology, these subjects attract less interest than other non-bodily claims. The body is despised and disregarded, consciousness is conceptually separated from its vehicle and accorded independent honour. Experimenting with consciousness becomes the most personal form of experience, contributing least to the widest system, and therefore most approved. (in Olivelle, 2011b: 124) In Brahmanism, the ascetic tradition, to be a sub-system, has to get its restricted code, as in Buddhism or Jainism. But is this possible in Brahmanism? The renouncer cannot operate as a sub-system of the householder world because both the householder perspective and the renouncer perspective evolved sustaining the idea of Brahmin. Attempts were made to define the ascetic tradition as a sub-system. The renouncer body is essentially constructed in opposition to everything the householder body stands for. It adopted the animal body in opposition to the human body. If the anxieties of safeguarding the boundaries of the human body are discarded, then the physical body of the human being becomes naturally an animal body. As Olivelle says, the ascetic adopting the animal body is more of a theological reality than a historical reality. But the theological reality is more interesting than the historical one. The ascetics are like, Olivelle says, ‘an animal or baby, both symbols of a non-civilised state. Jatarupadhara (“bearing the form one had at birth”), a common term for the renouncer’s naked condition indicates his return to the infant state’ (2011b: 93). The renouncer gets the animal body and must imitate the behaviour of animals. The Samnyasa Upanisads equate the renouncer with worms, snakes, birds, deer, and so on; here the renouncer stands for everything that is not part of the culture. The Naradaparivrajaka Upanisad (147, Olivelle, 1992: 180–181) equates a Brahmin renouncer to be a tongueless man, eunuch, totally lame, blind, deaf, and stupid. In this process, the wilderness is brought into society, animal body into the human body, the uncultured into the culture. From Sankara onwards, the renouncer who evolved as an antithesis to the householder Brahmin is embodied in the very idea of Brahmin. We saw that the ‘ideal’ Brahmin’s body embodies both the householder Brahmin conceptualised as dead and the Brahmin renouncer as a notional entity. The Naradaparivrajaka Upanisad says that a true Brahmin must regard his body as a corpse. The state of being a corpse is the state of being a true Brahmin. In Brahmanism, unless the ‘ideal’ Brahmin’s body is equated to a corpse, with the un-touch sense, the householder cannot be a living entity as a Brahmin. What a Brahmin renouncer, as a corpse, signifies is that a Brahmin cannot be a Brahmin in the non-ritual state. The sanyasi as a notional being signifies the state of true Brahmin. What it signifies is that a true Brahmin is above all

Physical body and social body 59 dualities. A living being can never be above all dualities; only a dead being can be above all dualities. The dead closes its skin, loses its sense of touch, the essential sense of any human being. The Naradaparivrajaka (154–162) says that the true Brahmin is one who is, ‘indifferent to the pairs of opposites’ and ‘after renouncing, he gives up the three bodies [gross, subtle, and causal body] in the manner of the wasp and the worm ’ (Olivelle, 1992: 184–185). The true Brahmin is above all dualities. The Naradaparivrajaka says ‘he is a Paramahamsa type of sanyasi. He is Narayana in visible form’ (Olivelle, 1992: 186). The true Brahmin, a Paramahamsa sanyasi, is one who is above all dualities, is embodied in a body that possesses un-touch sense. The body of Brahmin becomes a unified whole. It is no longer differentiated as a householder Brahmin’s body and Brahmin renouncer’s body. If the true Brahmin is a corpse, in terms of purity and pollution, how do we make sense of this ambivalent position: ritually dead but physically living? How do we locate the boundary between the living and the dead? The sense of touch determines the boundary between the living and the dead. When a human body loses its sense of touch, it becomes a dead body. A human body can live without all other senses, but it cannot live without a sense of touch. So, how do we classify the true Brahmin: as a living or dead entity? A true Brahmin becomes unclassifiable. He is both living and dead. All unclassifiable things pose the greatest danger to the existing system. Veena Das quotes Peter Berger (1969), who says, ‘it is not only that death possesses an obvious threat to the continuity of human relationships but also that it threatens the basic assumption of order on which the human society rests’ (2012: 132). In Brahmanism, the dead person is in the state of preta until the required rites are performed so that the deceased can join his ancestors. Unless the required rites are performed (sapindikarana) the dead person cannot join his ancestors. So, the dead person is in the liminal state, neither in this world nor in the world of the ancestors. The dead person, though is on the boundary between two established positions, in a temporary state. Once the required rites are completed the dead person joins the ancestors. But people who have done five great sins (mahapataka), are kept out of the system permanently. When such a person dies, he is not offered to agni. Those who are involved in five great sins are in the preta state permanently, both when he is alive and dead. As Veena Das says, ‘the ascetic is permanently doomed to lead the existence of preta state’ (2012: 143). Similar to the people who have committed five great sins, the sanyasi Brahmin is also permanently doomed to be in the state of preta. After the physical death, the sanyasi is not offered to agni. The important thing to note is that the people who are in the liminal state, located either temporarily or permanently on the boundary, are not outside the defined order. They are an essential part of the given order. They signify the order. The incorporeal sanyasi body becomes an essential part of the given order. How does the sanyasi, who is ritually and legally dead and in the permanent state of preta, come to be viewed positively and not equated with

60  Physical body and social body mahapatakas? The sanyasi supplements the community of Brahmins as Brahmins. But the impurities of the sanyasi, as a dead person, have to be carried by someone. In the words of Sarukkai, it must be outsourced to someone. To understand this, we will look into the state of a son who becomes impure when his father dies and remains so until he performs the required rites. The impure state of the son is not permanent because the preta state of the father is also not permanent. Actually, the impurities of the father are outsourced to the son because the son embodies the father. Similarly, the impurities of the sanyasi are outsourced to the community of Brahmins. Since the preta state of the sanyasi is permanent, the impure state of the community of Brahmins is also permanent, because, the impurities of the sanyasi are permanently outsourced to the Brahmins. In other words, the community of Brahmins remains as Brahmins only by accepting the impurities of the incorporeal entity, the sanyasi. As an extension of this, we can say that the essential quality of the sanyasi, embodied in a body with un-touch sense, is outsourced to the Brahmins. Only by this outsourcing, the householder Brahmins supplement the sanyasi. Untouchability is related to un-touch sense and not to sense of touch. The notions of purity and pollution are related to touch sense with the option of either touching or not touching, either permanently or temporarily. This difference is very important to conceptually understand the practice of untouchability. As Sarukkai notes: untouchables [who are going to provide empirical substantiation is not important] are supplemented Acharyas [true Brahmin] and this supplementation is needed for the possibility of having a community of Brahmins whose members no longer carry the burden of ‘pure untouchability’ and also states that ‘if there were no creation of a supplemented class of untouchables, there would be no possibility of having a community of Brahmins.’ (2014: 197) Further, to approach untouchability conceptually, we must not relegate the practice of untouchability to a set of people politically identified as Dalits. Brahmanism has finally resolved the contradiction between the householder and the renouncer. The body that negated the very essence of being a Brahmin has become the signifier that signifies the state of the true Brahmin. Householder/ascetic, ritual state/non-ritual state, human action/inaction, culture/anti-culture, group/individual, aranya/city, animal/human, dead/ live are unified under a single notion of ‘true Brahmin’. In Brahmanism, the Brahmin essentially means a householder. The question is this: why should the true Brahmin become a corpse? If the true Brahmin exists as a living being, he cannot become a signified, being in a non-ritual state. At the most, he could have been a monk as in Buddhism or Jainism, as part of a sub-system. If the householder Brahmin has to remain at the centre of its worldview, Brahmanism cannot allow the true Brahmin to remain as

Physical body and social body 61 a living category, because the sanyasi is defined as being in the non-ritual state. Untouchability is not related to the theological constructions of the householder Brahmin or the renouncer Brahmin. It is related to the notion of ideal Brahmin, which unifies both the householder and the renouncer. In the next chapter, we will see how the unification of the householder and the sanyasi in the notion of true Brahmin plays out through Veena Das’s reading of the Dharmaranya Purana.

Note 1 See Ambedkar’s ‘Origin of Untouchability’ (Rodrigues, 2007). Ayothee Das has also written about the instance of Dalits not accepting Brahmins in their colony. Also see U.R. Ananthamurthy’s novel Bharathipura (2013). The manifestation of Dalits can be also read as a sub-system. Further Ambedkar differentiates between purity-pollution and untouchability. We will see more on this later.

3 Brahmin householder as renouncer

In this chapter, we will attempt to elucidate how the Dharmaranya Purana, a 14th–15th-century CE text from the Gujarat region, reflects the issues we discussed in previous chapters. Veena Das (2012) reads this Purana from the structuralist framework. While this Purana, written by Brahmins, is not a jati Purana, it nevertheless speaks about Brahmin jatis and Sudra (Baniya) jatis. This text is similar to the Samnyasa Upanisads, and in a sense is also a sectarian text and operates within limited space and time. However, this text does manifest the anxieties of the Brahmins to make themselves relevant in their time. As noted earlier, Das brings into the discourse on caste order the essential component, the Brahmin renouncer. She argues that the householder Brahmins claim the status of a renouncer, and the prestige of the Brahmins is located in this claim and not as practicing ritualist. Das’s work perhaps anticipates something like Sundar Sarukkai’s philosophical approach to fully understand the Brahmins’ claim and how does it fit into the overall Brahmanical worldview. In the previous chapters, based on Olivelle’s study, we discussed how the intellectual discourse during Buddha’s time operated along a king-Brahminascetic axis. In this axis, the householder Brahmin and the renouncer Brahmin operate as two different and distinct entities, though attempts have been made by Dharmasutra authors to assign the value of ascetic to householder Brahmins. At the same time, we need to remember that Dharmaranya Purana was produced well after the unification of the householder Brahmin and the renouncer in one physical body and after the householder Brahmin had become a signifier, and the ‘ideal’ Brahmin signified. Das (2012: xii) clearly states that: the source of the Brahman’s prestige lies in his personification of the renouncer’s values . . . it is not the Brahman as priest who provides value to the system but the Brahman as a person charged with the duty of following renunciatory ideals. In such a system, the renouncer can hardly be dismissed as being the outside the system, for it is he who provides the measure of things.

64  Brahmin householder as renouncer The question we need to raise is about how the householder Brahmin claimed the renunciatory ideals which are constructed on entirely different notions of body, purity and pollution, contact and touch. What is the basis of this claim? I think Das does not raise these questions in her study. In the classical period (early and later asrama system) the householder Brahmin and the renouncer Brahmin are identified as two different entities. The unification of these two entities happens post-Sankara. Olivelle calls this medieval Brahmanism. Sankara defined Paramahamsa sanyasi, who is not bound by varnasramadharma, an ‘ideal-Brahmin’. Further, only post-Sankara, the rite of renunciation was fully formulated in Brahmanism. The rites of renunciation had far-reaching implications for the idea of Brahmin. Only after evolving the rite of renunciation, locating the Paramahamsa sanyasi outside the varnasramadharma, does the householder Brahmin become a signifier signifying the sanyasi. That is, one cannot exist without the other. The Brahmin householder needs the Brahmin renouncer as a signifier, and the Brahmin renouncer supplements the Brahmin householder. Before Sankara, the householder Brahmin did not need a Brahmin renouncer. It is generally accepted that only after Sankara were the Brahmin mutts established. Why did it take so long for Brahmanism to establish the monastic centres? Though the early Upanisadic authors celebrated the ascetic tradition, the ascetic-self was always located in contrast to and distinct from the householder. In the asrama system, when the four ways of life became four stages of life, the Brahmin renouncer even after renouncing remained a Brahmin, yet distinct from the householder. On the other hand, though the Brahmin householder was conceptualised as Nithyasanyasi or Sarvasramin, the process of merging these two separate entities was not yet completed. Since Brahmanism is basically centred on the ritually defined householder, it has to negate the separate identity of the Brahmin renouncer, which is constructed in contrast to and different from the householder. This requirement is not there in Buddhism or Jainism because they are not really concerned with the conceptual constructions of the householder. Sankara, locates the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, Paramahamsa Sanyai, outside varnasramadharma. If a Paramahamsa sanyasi is the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, then how do we make sense of the Brahmin householders? Who are they? Not-ideal Brahmins? Can a householder Brahmin even be a Brahmin? In short, unless the householder Brahmin signifies the ‘ideal’ Brahmin of Sankara, a Paramahamsa sanyasi, as a non-apparent entity, the Brahmin householder cannot claim the status of Brahmin. Till this process is completed, the householder and the renouncer continue to exist as two separate entities, contradicting each other within the framework. In Buddhism and Jainism, the ascetic practice from the beginning remained an individual enterprise. But in these two traditions, the two lifeworlds, that of the householder and the renouncer, did not have a dynamically interconnected relationship. That is why Buddhism or Jainism did not find the relationship between the householder and the ascetic problematic. Brahmanism, owing to its emphasis on the ritual state of the

Brahmin householder as renouncer 65 householder, must necessarily address this issue. After the introduction of rites of renunciation, the ‘ideal’ Brahmin becomes a preta, a non-apparent entity. This negation paved the way for the successful unification of two distinct entities. It successfully embodied the renouncer in the householder. This is an important shift in the Brahmanical worldview. In other words, the renouncer Brahmin’s body embodies the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, who is ritually dead, and the householder Brahmin who is socially and ritually alive signifies the dead Brahmin. Unless the renouncer Brahmin becomes a signified, the householder Brahmin cannot claim the status of the renouncer. That is, the Brahmins’ claim is that they signify the true sanyasi. Veena Das reads the Dharmaranya Purana along the king-Brahminrenouncer axis. I would like to restate this axis thus: king (temporal power)Brahmin (householder)-renouncer (Brahmin). In the Dharmaranya Purana, the category of Brahmin is defined by its relationship with other categories like the king and the Sudras (traders), premised on the householderrenouncer axis. Similarly, the relationship between the Brahmin jatis and between the Brahmin jatis and other jatis is premised on untouchability. This is an important thesis put forward by Veena Das. The relationship based on categories is notional, whereas the relationships between jatis are empirical. In the Purana, based on the notional and the empirical, the physical spaces are transformed into social spaces and physical bodies into social bodies. In this transformation of physical to social the Brahmin operates as the intermediary.1 Before we proceed in this direction, let us ask two fundamental questions: (1) Why does this Purana become a necessity for the Brahmins? (2) Why are the non-Brahmin and Dalit jati narratives always centred around the Brahmins? In other words, we can ask, why the empirical jatis never become part of their narrative and also why the empirical jatis do not exist conceptually? These two questions are not totally different. They try to address the same issue from different perspectives. We can try to address the second question through the classifications made by Iyothee Thass (1845–1914), an important Dalit intellectual and activist from the Tamil speaking area. In his Indirar Desa Carithram (1957), he constructs his narrative around these two classifications: vesha Brahmana (pseudo-Brahmin) and yathartha Brahmana (real or true Brahmin). He does not bring into his narrative the jatis which are directly associated with the lived experience of his jati (Paraya). The jatis that control them economically, socially, and politically are not brought into the narrative. The narrative is centred on the idea of Brahmin. In other words, the narrative of Iyothee Thass, though centred on the Brahmins, is not hierarchical, but structured as a mirror reflection. In this narrative, the Parayas become true Brahmins, and the householder Brahmins, who claim to be true Brahmins, become pseudo Brahmins. Iyothee Thass does not question or negate the very idea of the Brahmin. He only qualifies it. In his narrative, the Parayas and the Brahmins reflect each other, literally without any other jatis between them. We can understand the narrative of

66  Brahmin householder as renouncer Iyothee Thass only if we read it as a discourse with the idea of Brahmin and not as something that is associated with empirical Brahmins. We cannot understand this sort of narrative, either through varna framework or puritypollution matrix, though these two narratives are also centred on Brahmins. But in these two frameworks, the Brahmins are empirical and not notional. This difference is very important. Addressing the first question, a jati Purana, apart from its utility value, is the self-narrative of a particular jati, positioning itself in the Brahmanical universe, with reference to the categorical partitions. Here the socio-­ economic and other parameters come into play. For example, Veena Das talks about Devanga purana, which recounts the legendary origin and history of the Tamil weaver community. This Purana is the narrative of weavers of Bodinayakanur (a small town near Coimbatore-Erode), and the Puranas were written as a sort of memorandum to claim ‘higher jati’ position. They took their case to the zamindar of Bodinayakanur. The zamindar commissioned three people to render the Devanga purana in Sanskrit into Tamil. Veena Das states that (2012: 16) ‘even when the history of one particular jati was being presented, the authors did not begin by placing that particular jati in relation to other like jatis but attempts to position themselves through categories of varna and asrama’. When a jati Purana claims a particular status, naturally the reference must be with other empirical jatis. But they position themselves with reference to categories. We saw that in varna scheme the dynamic categories are Brahmin and Sudra and in the asrama system householder and renouncer. Why then could the jati Puranas not refer to other jatis in their claim for ‘higher’ status? This is because the relationship between jatis is premised on untouchability. They cannot claim a particular status based on untouchability. A jati can claim a ‘higher’ status only based on categories and definitely not based on other empirical jatis. With these in the background, we will look into Veena Das’s reading of Dharmaranya Purana. This Purana talks about the relationship between Brahmin and Baniya jatis, positioning themselves as categories at one level and as discrete jatis at another level. Das summarises the prevailing caste order in Gujarat when this Purana was written (ibid.: 12–13): Kavi Dalpatram, in his Jnatinibandha (1887) enumerates 84 Brahmin jatis and the same number of Baniya jatis. Each one of Brahmin and Baniya jatis is associated with a particular locality. She writes that both ‘the Brahmin and Baniya jatis are on lines of locality rather than lineage’. She further states that ‘the caste Puranas of Gujarat are written between the twelfth and seventeenth centuries A.D.’ and ‘it is a period of rising and establishment of the Muslim power in Gujarat’ (ibid.: 13). Further, there were conflicts between the Jains and the Brahmins. These conflicts are reflected in most of the caste Puranas that were written during this period. In short, whatever may be the need for producing jati Puranas, these are basically the self-ascription of a jati, articulated by the elites of that particular jati. Jati Puranas claim a particular

Brahmin householder as renouncer 67 jati’s position in terms of categories of varna and asrama, though their lived life experiences are related to other jatis. The jati Puranas speak about the relationship between categories and attempts to define themselves within the categorical partitions. In the Dharmaranya Purana, the conflict between the normative life of being a social group and the imaginary of the category comes into full play. I am limiting myself to the portions of Veena Das’s reading that are related to the notion that a householder Brahmin has ‘inherent spiritual merit’, that is, the claim of Brahmin householders that they are living the life of an ascetic. This claim that the householder Brahmin has ‘inherent spiritual merit’ plays a vital role not only in the Purana but also in the very self-making of a Brahmin subject.

Brahmin and categorical partition The most glaring omission in the Dharmaranya Purana is that there is no Brahmin renouncer who can articulate his position. The Purana does talk about the sanyasi. We have Buddhist and Jain monks, but no Brahmin sanyasi, as a physical entity. The Purana does have the sanyasi in the background. But his presence is not apparent. This is because when a Brahmin householder claims that he is the true renouncer, the Purana cannot afford to have a separate entity, the Brahmin renouncer. This Purana was written by Brahmin householders to define themselves as true renouncers, and Vanikas as householders. They are structured in contrast to each other along renouncer-householder (asrama system), Brahmin-Sudra (varna scheme) axes. Das lists the duties that can be taken up by the Brahmins: ‘pursuit of knowledge, the performance of holy sacrifices, devotion to God, teaching and advising on matters relating to political ethics’ (ibid.: 35). She further states that the wealth they possess is given to them by God, and as owners, they must do nothing to accumulate their wealth. Further, the most important point is that the Purana does not have any reference to either Brahmin women or Brahmin men getting married (ibid.). The way the Brahmins are defined in the Purana makes one thing clear. The householder Brahmins, claiming the status of a renouncer, cannot have interest in wealth, succession-inheritance, or sexual reproduction. This much is clear in the Purana because as Das notes, the ‘mechanisms of succession and inheritance are not maintained through sexual reproduction’ (ibid.: 35). In contrast, the dharma of the Vanikas (also called Sudras interchangeably) is positioned along safeguarding and accumulating wealth, succession-inheritance, and sexual reproduction. In the early asrama system, according to Olivelle, householder and renouncer are different ways of life, the latter succeeding the former. In the latter asrama system, these two became two different stages of life. In the Purana, they are unified as a single whole. Both the householder and the renouncer are embodied in a single Brahmin’s body. Since the householder Brahmin claims to

68  Brahmin householder as renouncer be a renouncer, the duties of the householder have to be outsourced to the Sudras (Vanikas). As Das aptly puts it: ‘the category of Brahmin is in opposition to the Sudra category Vanika here and, and in relation to the Vanika, the Brahman is parallel to the sanyasi’ (ibid.: 39, emphasis in original). That is, in the varna frame, the Brahmins are located in opposition to Sudra, but in their normative relationship with the Sudra, the Brahmins locate themselves in the asrama system and become a sanyasi. But we can observe that in the Purana, nowhere is the varna scheme or the asrama system taken for discussion in totality. In the Purana, from the very beginning of creation, the Brahmins are defined as having the characteristic feature of a renouncer. I wish to state that this is because the starting point of this Purana is the notion of the ‘ideal Brahmin’ and not the Brahmin either of the varna scheme or the asrama system. But this essential feature is hidden or invisible. Das handles the contradiction between the Brahmins and the others through ‘inherent spiritual merit’ and ‘acquired spiritual merit’. A Buddhist or Jain monk acquires his spiritual merit, whereas the Brahmin has inherent spiritual merit. Through this Das states that ‘the Brahman is opposed to the sanyasi’ (ibid.: 44). I wish to state that the Brahmin is not opposed to sanyasi (the renouncer in Brahmanism), but opposed to asceticism in other traditions like Buddhism and Jainism. The idea of the Brahmin embodies both the householder and the sanyasi, a single whole. They are not in opposition to each other. That is why there is no sanyasi Brahmin in the Purana. A sanyasi cannot be in opposition to a householder because he is ritually and socially dead. The householder Brahmin becomes a Brahmin, and is only appropriating the essential quality of the sanyasi. The householder Brahmin has an ‘inherent spiritual merit’ not because he acts as a priest or ritual specialist, but because he signifies the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. Next, we will look into the relationship of the Brahmins with temporal power. According to Das, the king, who represents the temporal power does not have ‘inherent spiritual power’ and is dependent on the Brahmins for that (ibid.). The relationship between the king and the Brahmin is not bilateral alone. The third entity, according to Das, the sanyasi, determines the nature of the relation between the king and the Brahmins. Das states that ‘sanyasi’ is a neutral term. There are two parts to this story: one part of the story states that Rama, as a king, though he has temporal power, has to depend on the Brahmins for spiritual merit. On the other hand, though Brahmins have inherent spiritual merit, they need to depend on the king to protect themselves. In another part of the story, the relation of the Brahmans to the king changes. They officiate for the king in sacrifice and thus, in relation to the king, become mediators between the king and gods/ancestors. In exchange, the king gives them grants of land which obviously belongs to the king. (ibid.: 45)

Brahmin householder as renouncer 69 In the first part, the Brahmin in his relationship with the king acts as a renouncer Brahmin. In the second part, he acts as the liturgical specialist, a householder Brahmin. In both, the Brahmin, as a renouncer and as a householder, becomes a receiver. In the first part, he is independent of the king, though he receives protection from the king. In the second part, the Brahmin is in an exchange relation with the king. He acts as an intermediary between the king and the gods/ancestors and receives his remuneration. But the relationship of the Brahmins with the king is not an unproblematic one. The Brahmin’s self is always in an ambivalent position, in his relationship with the temporal power. The Brahmin’s relation with the king oscillates between the householder Brahmin/king axis and renouncer Brahmin-king axis. But there is no ambiguity in the Brahmin’s relationship with Sudras (Vanikas). It is always in the householder (Sudra)-renouncer (Brahmin) axis. The householder dharma is outsourced to the Sudras. This outsourcing can become possible only if the Brahmins conceptually define themselves as a sanyasi, the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. In this sense, as Das states, ‘the category Brahman structurally mediates between the opposites Vanika/Sudra and ­ ­sanyasi, which, as we have seen, stands for the social and asocial respectively’ (ibid.: 48). Das locates the sanyasi as asocial and explains her position: We have characterised sanyasa as an asocial category. By asocial it is meant that the sanyasi is above the structural distinctions operative within the society. It is not intended to imply that ‘asocial’ is not itself socially defined. In fact, the classic definition of a sanyasi, as a madman, a ghost, a child, uses all the social categories of the asocial to define the sanyasi. (ibid.: 49) Though asocial, sanyasi is defined using the social categories, that is, they are in opposition to the social, the householder Brahmin. Das clarifies how the asocial must be subsumed under the social. She writes: since the category Brahman is a mediating term between the polar opposites asocial and social. . . . It is essential that the category Brahman should subsume in itself some of the opposing characteristics of the asocial and social, which is why in some contexts it becomes similar to the sanyasi and in others opposed to it. (ibid.: 51) The Brahmin does oscillate between the social (householder/corporeal) and asocial (sanyasi/incorporeal), because, without embodying these two, a Brahmin could not be a Brahmin. The ‘asocial’ is successfully embodied in the social. Though, before Sankara, the householder Brahmin has been conceptualised as Nithyasanyasi and a Sarvasramin, and the sanyasi state has been described as a perfect ritual state of a householder, these

70  Brahmin householder as renouncer two entities are distinct and different in nature. In the medieval period, post-Sankara, the ideal Brahmin becomes incorporeal. Only by appropriating this incorporeality of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, the sanyasi, the corporeal Brahmin, the householder can remain as a Brahmin. In other words, only by appropriating the touch-un-ability of the incorporeal entity, the corporeal entity becomes a Brahmin. Incorporating two contradictory positions (social/asocial, householder/sanyasi, corporeal/incorporeal, un-touch sense/ touch sense, touch-un-ability/touch ability) in a single body creates its own ambivalent positions. The relationship between the king and the Brahmin operates on two planes: on one it is between the king and the householder Brahmin, and on the other, it is between the king and the sanyasi Brahmin. But the problem is the householder, and sanyasi is not two different and distinct entities. It is basically the king and the Brahmin (as both the householder and sanyasi). If the Brahmin accepts gifts from the king, he becomes a householder. He can claim the status of renouncer only when he refuses gifts from the king. That is why in the Purana some Brahmins, though they are householders, refuse to accept any gift, even though they are offered by none other than the god Rama. Even when a Brahmin accepts gifts from the king, the relationship is ambivalent. As sanyasi, the Brahmin assumes that he is giving his spiritual merit to the king, but as a householder, the Brahmin receives from the king the protection and the gifts. In the case of the Sudras, the relationship with the king is straightforward and without any ambiguity. The ambiguous relationship between the king and the Brahmin can be seen clearly in the discussions between a set of Brahmins and the king in this Purana. A king named Aama becomes a Buddhist. His subjects also become Buddhists. The king gives Dharmarnya and Moheraka, two villages, to his daughter as her marriage gift. The daughter orders all the Brahmins in these two villages to immediately vacate. She says, The land belongs to us now, and we shall not let the Brahmans enjoy its fruits. Our Tirthankaras (Jain mendicants) [in this part, Buddhists and Jains are used interchangeably] who eat little, and who have no attachments are to be worshipped. The Brahmans are greedy, and they indulge in violence. Therefore, they are not revered. You may live in this country or go elsewhere – but you will not get our patronage. Clearly, the king’s daughter did not accept the ambivalent position of the Brahmins: she defines them firmly as householders, as greedy and deceitful. She locates the Tirthankaras as the real renouncers. We need to note that here the Jain mendicants are interposed with the householder Brahmin and not with Brahmin sanyasi because the Brahmin sanyasis do not exist in the Purana. The Brahmins after losing their land go to plead with the king. They explain to the king how Rama gave them lands and wealth. They also showed the king the copper plate to prove that the lands were given to them by Rama. The Brahmins say, ‘whether the king is a Kshatriya or a Sudra, it

Brahmin householder as renouncer 71 is the duty to protect the Brahmans’. That is, a king can be a Kshatriya or a shudra, but he has to accept that the Brahmins are one unified whole and cannot be differentiated. Here the Brahmins locate themselves outside the varna scheme. Further, they define themselves as bhikshuka (beggars). In a way, they define themselves as not-householders. But King Aama not only refused to accept Rama as a god but also countered the Brahmins, asking why he should honour the commitments given by Rama. I quote almost the full discussion, as given in Veena Das’s text for its extraordinary beauty. All the shastras say that non-violence is the ultimate righteousness. Then why do you call the Jain religion a heretic religion? All our preceptors are without a trace of violence and are full of compassion. The Brahmans are always desiring sensuous pleasures and all of them are bent on committing violence. They are full of desires, prone to anger, and are greedy. Tell me, which of their virtues should make me worship them? Men have to bear the results of their good and bad actions. Happiness and unhappiness are both attained by our actions. . . . You have a family, you fall ill, and so do we. So what is the difference between the worshipper and the worshipped? Some people live by their brains and others by their strength. These are two ways to make a living in the world. Which of these is preferable to you? What virtue do you have that you are ready to enjoy these villages? The Brahmans should not accumulate property. So the ownership of village will send you to hell. (ibid.: 31) The king very clearly differentiates the householder from the renouncer and charges that the Brahmins are not living the life of true ascetics. The king attempts to recover the original meaning of the ascetics and translates the Jain monks as true ascetics. The Brahmins are not true renouncers. Since the Brahmins before him are not true renouncers, they are seen as simple householders. The Jain monks are truthful to the idea of ascetics, negating the claims of the householder Brahmins. The act of recovery is complete. The king continues: Those who know Vedas say that in earlier times the whole earth was given by Parashurama to a Brahman called Kashyapa. Then how did Rama rule the earth? When the earth actually belonged to someone else, then how was it given to you by Rama? And how did you, who are keen to be righteous, accept the gift? Therefore you have indulged in sinful actions, and Rama was not the protector of dharma. (ibid.) The king totally demolishes the structural relation between the king and the Brahmin as renouncer. In the earlier part the king dismissed the Brahmins as not being true renouncers, and now he questions the very validity of the

72  Brahmin householder as renouncer gift itself. The king raises the moral question about both the giver and the receiver. The reply given by the Brahmins are equally extraordinary: It is said in the Vedas that non-violence is the supreme duty. But violence is not always to be abhorred, and when performed in a sacrifice it leads to heaven. No one can be completely non-violent. Violence is everywhere and therefore, whatever the Jain renouncers say is blind arrogance. Can anyone keep alive without eating and how is food to be got without violence? Is there anyone on earth who does not have a tendency towards violence? O, king! People live by violence alone. If fruit growing on trees is eaten, violence is done to the birds by taking away their means of living. When water, food, and leaves are left overnight, then insects are bred in them, and they die. All your Jain renouncers are full of anger and jealousy. They eat tasty food and are still called yatis (ascetics). They talk love and romance to women. They are full of greed, avarice, animosity, and arrogance. Who would call them yatis? (ibid.: 31–32) The Brahmins in their reply bring out the fundamental limitations of ascetic tradition. Structurally, though the ascetics are dependent on the householders, they need to oppose the householders. Since they practice celibacy, they are dependent on the householder even to sustain their tradition. Since they are divorced from the economic activities, they are dependent on the householder even for their basic necessaries. This limitation is brought out well by the Brahmins, as householders. In short, the Brahmins refused to accept that the Jain renouncers can exist independently, or as a separate entity and brings out the limitations of their claim. The Brahmins continue: O, King! yatis are those who are above happiness and sorrow and are not influenced by praise or insults. We (i.e., those who have been successful in controlling their senses) are the followers of the grihastha dharma (dharma of householder) and are expert in the learning of Vedas and Vedangas. We are engrossed in our own work and are without anger or malice. Therefore, O King, protect the Brahmans according to Rama’s command, and it will bring prosperity to you. (ibid.: 32) The Brahmin negates any other mode of translation of the idea of Brahmin. Though, they define themselves as householders, they claim they possess the characteristic of the renouncer. As a householder, they accept that yatis are above the householder. But what is the use of that? They, the Brahmins, living the life of a householder, are above the yatis. They accept that yatis are above the householder, but also claim that they are above the yatis. That is, the householder Brahmin defines himself above the yatis. Das states that

Brahmin householder as renouncer 73 his positioning is based on the claim that the Brahmins possess ‘inherent spiritual merit’ and yatis have only ‘acquired spiritual merit’. But what is this ‘inherent spiritual merit’? It is here that they, the householder Brahmins, signify an ‘ideal Brahmin’, the sanyasi. We saw that the ritually dead ‘ideal Brahmin’ is in the state of preta. Hence the ‘ideal Brahmin’ negates the sense of touch. In this scenario which part of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin is embodied in the householder that makes the Brahmin claim that he possesses ‘inherent spiritual merit’. This is a philosophical question that we will try to address while discussing Sarukkai’s thesis of untouchability. Meanwhile, we will continue with the implications of the Brahmin’s inherent spiritual merit. Das correctly states that: the first argument of the Brahmans is that they are to be judged by the spiritual merit inherent in their position and that the logic applicable to the renouncers is not applicable to them. Secondly, they try to show that the khapanakas [Jain mendicants] have deceived the king into thinking that they have mastered the ultra-mundane qualities by which alone a renouncer is to be judged. (ibid.: 57) Before we discuss the above two positions put forth by Das, we need to bring in the question we raised earlier: why is sanyasi not equated with Jain or Buddhist ascetics? Why does the discussion revolve around the householder Brahmin and the ascetics of other traditions? The claim of the Brahmin is that since they embody both the householder and the renouncer, whereas the Jain or Buddhist ascetics are simply ascetics. Hence they are above Buddhist or Jain ascetics. Since, this Purana was written by householder Brahmins, who claim to possess the qualities of a sanyasi, there is no need to bring in the sanyasi in the narrative. The sanyasi, the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, does not have any existence on his own. He is only a signified. He is preta, incorporeal. That is why in the Purana, the sanyasi exist throughout, though not physically. He exists only to make the community of Brahmins as Brahmins. So, post-Sankara, the inherent spiritual merit of a Brahmin lies not in the sanyasi, a distinct empirical entity, but in the notion of an ‘ideal’ Brahmin. Das argues that ‘the structural order of Hinduism is [constructed] in terms of a tripartite division of the domains of Brahman, king, and sanyasi’ (ibid.: 58). So, when King Aama converts to heretic sects, he ‘obliterates the partitioning between the categories Brahman and sanyasi by applying the same logic of the assessment of spiritual merit to the Brahmans as is applicable to the renouncers’ (ibid.). I wish to argue that King Aama does not obliterate the partitioning in Brahmanism, but creates a partition between Brahmin householders and Brahmin renouncers. The king, by converting to the heretic sect places the householder and the renouncer differently, whereas, in Brahmanism, they cannot be different. If the Brahmins accept the partitioning of the king, then they become Sudras. The important thing to note is

74  Brahmin householder as renouncer that more than who the king is, either Kashatriya or a shudra, the Brahmin cannot allow the householder and renouncer to have different categorical existence. By way of concluding her analysis of the categorical partitioning, Das explains the role of sects in the medieval period. She states: As a general conclusion, it can be stated that sects which attempted to rebel against Hindu dharma tried to do so by rejecting the categorical partitions obtaining in Hinduism and confusing the relations between each category as established in the structural order of Hinduism. Moreover, it appears that the perception of these sects by Hindu thinkers was not in terms of their rebellion against the caste system as has so often been assumed, but in terms of their negation of the conceptual order of Hinduism. (ibid.: 59) As we discussed above, Das’s entire reading of this Purana is constructed on the premise that the Brahmin and the sanyasi are two different entities in Brahmanism. How do we understand Das’s statement that the reform traditions are not against the caste system, ‘as has so often been assumed’? We can say with fair amount of confidence that the medieval reform traditions are not against the existence of empirical jatis but that they attempt to differentiate the householder and the sanyasi, two contradictory positions unified in a single whole, the Brahmin. I ask again: why in the Dharmaranya Purana do we not have any sanyasi to juxtapose with the householder Brahmins? The social and the asocial, the householder and renouncer are all subsumed in the single category of Brahmin well before this text was written. This can be more clearly demonstrated when we take up the issue of jatis for discussion. The unresolved conflict in the narration of the Brahmin is that as a renouncer, a Brahmin cannot accept any gifts from anybody. But a Brahmin has to accept remuneration for his services, be it ritual or non-ritual. If a Brahmin accepts remuneration for his services, he becomes a householder. But the householder dharma is outsourced to Sudras. Hence the householder Brahmin transforms the remuneration he receives as dana (gift). The remuneration given to the householder Brahmin becomes equivalent to dana that is given to ascetics or yogis or sanyasis. Even receiving gifts is problematic because gifts are not value-neutral and definitely not free. Mary Douglas, in her foreword to Marcel Mauss’s book The Gift: The Form and Reason for Exchange in Archaic Societies, writes that ‘there are no free gifts; gift cycles engage persons in permanent commitments that articulate the dominant institutions’ (2002: xii). We will see how the Brahmins handled the gifts in the next section. In the words of Sarukkai, neither the householder Brahmins can sustain themselves as a community nor can a Brahmin subject self-define himself

Brahmin householder as renouncer 75 as a Brahmin without the existence of a sanyasi. In summary, we can say that even though Das’s theoretical framework opens up a new possibility of understanding the categorical partition in Brahmanism, the location of the categories Brahmin and sanyasi as distinct is problematic. This framework is valid before Sankara. Post-Sankara, the categorical partition of Brahmin and sanyasi does not exist. The social and asocial constructions around these categories are subsumed as a single entity; these two oppositional positions compose a single whole. That single whole is the ‘ideal’ Brahmin.

Brahmin and group differentiation In this section, we will focus on how the social groups structure themselves within the categorical partitions. We will try to understand the location of the jatis within the tripartite structure of temporal power-householder (Brahmin)-(renouncer) Brahmin. Veena Das states that ‘jatis are placed in the conceptual order of Hinduism, not with reference to other like units but with reference to the set of relations among Brahman, King and sanyasi’ (2012: 62). As we saw in the previous section, locating the Brahmin and the sanyasi as separate entities is problematic. However, the structure Das creates for reading the location of the jatis is very useful and through her reading, I will try to locate the ambivalent position of the Brahmin in terms of jatis. Das lists three separate universes of discourse: ‘(a) the tripartite classification of Brahman, king and sanyasi, (b) the identification of descent, locality and cult-groups as principles of organisation, and (c) rules determining the limits to exchange foods, goods and services, and women’ (2012: 62). The thesis put forth by Das that jatis do not define themselves with reference to other jatis but through the categorical partition is an important perception. In short, for our understanding, we can restate that a jati locates itself in the tripartite structure. Before we try to extend this, for the time being, we will limit ourselves to the Brahmin jatis. No Brahmin jati is located empirically at equidistance from these three reference points, and no two jatis are located at the same location. At the same time, socially no jati can be said to be at the same location over a period time. This contributes to the very complexity of the caste order. So, the relationships between the jatis, more than being hierarchically structured, is fundamentally fluid. Though the relationship between the jatis is fluid, they share some common characteristics. Without this sharing, the relationships between discrete jatis cannot become an order. Based on Das’s reading of the Dharmaranya Purana, I think we can define untouchability as the single characteristic feature of the relationship between jatis. In the Dharmaranya Purana, a physical space is transformed into social space after the creation of the Brahmins. Because of this, Dharmaranya becomes a sacred place. Sudras (Vanikas) are created to outsource the householder responsibilities because the householder dharma is projected

76  Brahmin householder as renouncer as a hindrance to developing the Brahmin’s inherent spiritual merit. The relationship of Brahmins with the king and Vanikas are essentially exchange based. The king who does not have any inherent spiritual merit has to depend on the Brahmins, and the Brahmins are dependent on the king for their safety and welfare. Similarly, the Sudras are dependent on the Brahmins for their life-cycle rituals, and the Brahmins are dependent on them for their material existence. So, the relation between the householder Brahmin, king, and Sudra are straightforward. But as we saw earlier, the relationship of the Brahmin as a renouncer with the king gets problematic. If the householder and the renouncer had been located separately, say, as in Buddhism or Jainism, this problem would not have evolved in Brahmanism. Since both are subsumed under a single whole and embodied in a single body called Brahmin, it gets problematic. This ambiguous position is also manifested in the relationships between the Brahmin jatis. The jatis within the Brahmin category are created on the basis of their relationship with the temporal power (king). Does a Brahmin establish his relationship with the king as a householder or as a renouncer? The different response to this question creates different jatis within the category of Brahmin. In the Purana, one set of Brahmins (Trivedis) agreed to perform the fire sacrifice for Rama and accepts the dakshina (fee) and dana (gift). Another set of Brahmins (Chaturvedis) refused to perform the sacrifice but accepts dana from Rama. Even in this Chaturvedi group, one sub-group later agreed to perform fire sacrifice for Rama out of existential necessity, but another subgroup, called ‘Hundred and Eleven’ Chaturvedi Brahmins, refused to perform any sacrifice, as they did not want to define themselves as householders. The division within the Brahmin category resulted in different groups and are identified with a particular locality. In the first instance, the nature of the relationship the householder Brahmins had with Rama, not only made them differentiated groups but also located them in different localities. The second instance is the relationship the Brahmins had with King Aama. We saw the debate between the king, Aama, and the Brahmins in the previous section. In continuation of this, King Aama puts forth a condition that the Brahmins have to prove to him that the land is indeed given by Rama if he is to return their lands to them. One group, the Chaturvedi Brahmins, are of the opinion that the king’s condition cannot be fulfilled and it is better for the Brahmin to take up the life of Sudra (Vanikas/householder). But another group, the Trivedi Brahmins, are of the opinion that only by fulfilling the condition of King Aama, they can protect their vritti. Though in the end both the Trivedi and the Chaturvedi Brahmins get their land back, after fulfilling the condition of King Aama, they established themselves as two different groups. Since the Trivedi Brahmins are the ones determined to safeguard the vritti of the Brahmins and are instrumental in getting back the lands for both the groups, they broke off all relationship with the Chaturvedi Brahmins and became an endogamous group. The Purana describes how the Chaturvedi Brahmins are further divided

Brahmin householder as renouncer 77 into sub-groups. One set of Chaturvedi Brahmins became wrestlers and even changed their kuladevi. Another set of Chaturvedi Brahmins became Vaishyas, and this group also adopted different kuladevi. Yet another set of Chaturvedi Brahmins became Vanikas (Sudras) with their own kuladevi. The last set became karmakanda (performance of ceremonies). The Chaturvedi Brahmins who became wrestlers, Vaishyas, Vanikas, and karmakanda all adopted the householder dharma. In other words, they relieved themselves from the ambivalent position of being a householder and a renouncer. But they are seen as fallen, and each of the sub-groups of Chaturvedi Brahmins becomes an endogamous group. Similarly, the Trivedi Brahmins also broke up into different groups. There is an interesting story of the Trivedi Brahmin boys falling in love with widows and other girls of the same group. How this issue was handled by the Brahmins is by itself very interesting. The story goes like this: the Trivedi Brahmin boys took cows for grazing. Slowly some boys fell in love with the widows and the girls of their age who regularly brought food and water to them. After some time, some of the widows and the girls became pregnant. The Brahmins assembled together and took a decision: These girls have been polluted. From them will be born children such as kanina and golaka [these sub-groups are treated as Sudras]. We must act according to the dharmasastras so that no mixture of varna (varnasamkara) results. These girls and widows should be married to the boys. The boys have lost their dharma. So let them become grihasthas. These low Brahmans will be known as Dhenujas. Their jati is different. We shall have no relation with them. (Das, 2012: 67) It is interesting to note that Trivedi Brahmins who did not hesitate to perform fire sacrifice for Rama and get dana and dakshina from him condemns these boys to become grihasthas. The irony is that these Trivedi Brahmins cannot punish those boys to become householders by locating themselves as Brahmin householders. Then where do these Trivedi Brahmins locate themselves? They locate themselves as an ‘ideal’ Brahmin, as a renouncer, above all varna, asrama, and dharma. Das concludes that ‘the differences between the Trivedis and Chaturvedis are conceptualised in the myth of the Dharmaranya Purana, with reference to the relation of each division to the king’ (2012: 72, emphasis in original). We can conclude that the ambivalent nature of simultaneously being a householder and a renouncer constitutes the very self-making of the Brahmin in the Purana, and this ambivalent position is reflected not only in the relationship with the king but also with other Brahmins. The Trivedi Brahmins attempt to translate the notion of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin and this defines not only their relationship with temporal power but also their relationship with the same category of people identified as Brahmins. We saw that the ‘ideal’ Brahmin is outside

78  Brahmin householder as renouncer both the varna scheme and the asrama system. When one set of Chaturvedi Brahmins propose to take the Vanika (Sudra, householder) dharma, it was opposed by other Brahmins because the householder dharma is outsourced to the Sudras, and the Brahmin cannot become a householder. Similarly, when the boys in the Trivedi group were differentiated as a separate sub-group, they were assigned householder dharma. That is, only by outsourcing the householder dharma to others (who constitute ‘others’ is not that important; they can be from a different category or from the same category, from different groups or from the same group) the Brahmin retains his renouncer status. The paradox is that the Brahmins who outsources the householder dharma to others is not a sanyasi, but a householder. In the context of jati, the categorical partition of king-Brahmin (householder)-sanyasi (Brahmin), becomes king (temporal power)-Sudras (householder)-Brahmin (renouncer). We will see the relation between these three through a story in the Purana. The story, entitled Shudra Jati Bheda, as narrated by Das, goes like this: once a Vanika found a tired Jain mendicant sleeping. Seeing him in shambles and hungry, the Vanika took pity on the mendicant and offered to give him food. The mendicant refused the offer and said, I was born in a Vanika caste. I have now taken refuge in the Jain dharma. I have renounced my wife and my property, and have acquired peace. I do not collect food. I only beg for food which is sufficient for a meal and no more. I do not collect wealth or touch metal. I have pity for all people. (2012: 92) The Vanika became inspired and begged the mendicant to visit his home for a meal. To this repeated request, the Jain mendicant replied that he would take food only from the followers of Jain dharma and not from the followers of Vedic dharma. Then, the Vanika became the disciple of Jain dharma. The Vanika took the mendicant to his house and asked the members of his family to respect the mendicant as their spiritual preceptor. Some members accepted the mendicant, while some denounced him as a cheat. The Jain mendicant stayed for some time and started giving discourses on the merits of Jain dharma. He denounced the Vedas, Brahmins, and the Vedic gods. Some Vanikas were influenced by the teachings of this Jain mendicant. Trivedi Brahmins heard about the Jain mendicant and went to hear him and found the Jain mendicant denouncing the Vedas, gods, and the Brahmins. They got angry and beat him up and even went to the extent of trying to kill the Jain mendicant. But some Vanikas intervened, and finally, the Jain mendicant was thrown out of the city. Serious differences arose among the Vanikas. Some took the position in favour of Brahmins and some in favour of the Jain mendicant. Those who felt that injustice had been done to the Jain mendicant left the city along with him. They became a separate Vanika jati and were identified with a distinct name.

Brahmin householder as renouncer 79 Though a section of Vanikas becoming Jains is seen as unproblematic in the Puranas, the story of King Aama getting converted to Jainism is seen as problematic. In the end, King Aama after giving back the land taken away from the Brahmins by his daughter recovers his faith in Rama, leaves Jainism, and gets back to the Vedic religion. We can raise this question: why did the Purana see King Aama’s faith in Jainism as problematic but did not find it problematic when a group of Vanikas were converted to Jainism? Das argues thus: The Dharmaranya Purana does not seem to see any contradiction in the group which had become converted to Jainism remaining a caste. On the other hand, the conversion of a king was seen as a major threat to the Brahmans and to the Hindu order. This is understandable when we realise that the heretic nature of rebel sects such as Jain lay in their denial of the categorical partition between the Brahman, king and sanyasi, and not on castes as modes of social grouping. To use an analogy borrowed from linguistics, even when the sects carried the same vocabulary they changed the grammar. (ibid.: 93) I wish to restate Das’s summary within our framework. The Jain mendicant stands parallel to the renouncer Brahmin. In the Purana, to counter the existence of the Jain mendicant, the Brahmins did not have a separate entity called sanyasi. According to the Brahmins, the householder Brahmin parallels the Jain mendicant. So, the presence of the Jain mendicant poses a serious challenge to the householder Brahmins’ very assumption that they are the true renouncers. If the Jain mendicant is accepted, the very construction of the Brahmin comes under serious threat. The Brahmin becomes a simple householder, that is, Sudra in their own understanding. So, they are keen to get rid of him. At the same time, the Brahmins do not have any problem with the Jain mendicant existing as a teacher for a separate group. In other words, the Brahmins cannot allow any ascetics within their boundary, since the very existence of ascetics like Jain mendicants will negate the very premise of the self-making of the Brahmin. But the same Brahmins cannot allow a king to become Jain. As long as the king remains a Jain, he cannot fit himself into the tripartite structure of temporal (king)-householder (Brahmin)-sanyasi (Brahmin). In the Jaina scheme, the Brahmin becomes a simple householder, a Sudra in the Brahmin’s framework. Unless the temporal power accepts the Brahmin’s claim, that they are the true renouncers, a Brahmin cannot remain a Brahmin. If the temporal power accommodates an alternative narration of renouncer like that of the Jain mendicant, the very basis of the Brahmin is negated. What is that Jain mendicant actually doing by attacking the Vedas, Vedic gods, and Brahmins? The position of the Jain mendicant is that the Brahmins are living the life of a householder but claim the status of renouncers. The Jain mendicant refuses to accept that a renouncer is embodied in a Brahmin householder. They are not against

80  Brahmin householder as renouncer the Brahmins as householders; they are against the claim of the empirical Brahmins that they represent the renouncers. Das’s conclusion is very useful in understanding the renouncer tradition among the non-Brahmins. She states that, the problem makes it possible to suggest that the sociologists who have seen the consistent failure of rebel sects to break the caste system, in that the sects themselves develop divisions similar to castes, have perhaps missed the essence of the heterodoxy of these sects. In attacking the position of Brahmans the sects were not attacking the caste system, but the special position of Brahmans as holders of inherent ritual merit within the conceptual scheme of Hinduism. It is no accident that even today while people do not have any contradiction in speaking of groups like Jain Baniyas, Sikh Khatris, and Muslim Rajputs, they do not conceive of the possibility of Jain Brahmans or Sikh Brahmans or Muslim Brahmans . . . the attack on the Brahmans by the rebel sects was not equivalent to an attack on caste as a mode of social grouping. (ibid.: 94–95) Das’s question needs to be addressed: ‘why there are no Jain Brahmans or Sikh Brahmans or Muslim Brahmans?’ We can rephrase this question: what happens when a Brahmin revolts against the notional Brahmin? A Sudra can rebel against the construction of the notional Brahmin only by differentiating himself by refusing to accept the claim of the Brahmins. From the Brahmin’s perspective, a Sudra remains a Sudra (householder, both as an object for touch sense but untouched and as an object for un-touch sense) whether he remains within the given order or not. For example, in our times we have Nadar Christians, Dalit Muslims, or Christians. But a Brahmin can be a Brahmin only when he remains as part of the given order. A Brahmin cannot remain a Brahmin when he locates himself outside the given order. A Brahmin cannot revolt against the notional Brahmin, move out of the order, and still remain a Brahmin. He can only become something that is not the Brahmin. He can become a Muslim, or a Buddhist or a Jain. But he cannot be Buddhist Brahmin or Jain Brahmin. Though we know that many Brahmins converted to Christianity or Islam during the colonial rule or Mughal rule, we do not have Christian Brahmins or Muslim Brahmins. Conceptually a Brahmin who revolts against the notion of Brahmin becomes something distinctly different than a Brahmin. Another important point noted by Das is that the rebel sects are not attacking the caste order. To understand this Das’s position, we need to look into how the jatis are sustained. In the context of jatis, the tripartite structure of categorical partition, temporal power (king)-Brahmin (householder)-sanyasi (Brahmin) becomes temporal power (king)-Sudra (householder)-Brahmin (sanyasi) and then shifts to temporal power (king)-‘ideal’ Brahmin-untouchables. We can attempt to understand

Brahmin householder as renouncer 81 these shifts through Das’s reading of the concept of Kalivarjya. We will consolidate her reading (ibid.: 95–97). Das asks ‘why the text [Purana] needs the theory of kalivarjya to explain actual relationships between the castes’. She quotes Pocock (1964), who argues that ‘the theory of kalivarjya provided justification for practices which are sanctioned by caste-custom but have no support in Dharmasastras’. To elaborate on this Das tries to go into the structural meaning of Kaliyuga. She splits the time into ‘continuous time and discrete time’. In the Brahmanical worldview, continuous time has four ages. The last age is Kaliyuga. After Kaliyuga, the cycle starts again. In this sense, the time is cyclical in Brahmanism, and each yuga differentiates. [the] movement of time is symbolised in the text [Purana] by increasing differentiation of objects, space, people and deities. . . . The social order emerges by first being differentiated from the physical order through the creation of Brahmans. Then within the social order, places, people and deities are differentiated. . . . Then, Brahmans are differentiated from Vanika/Sudra and further progress of time is marked by differentiation within the Brahman category. This differentiation in people is associated with differentiation in places – for each successively differentiated jati is associated with a separate locality. Finally, the principles of social structure which are used to differentiate between jatis are also used to differentiate deities and gradually there is an emergence of separate deities of localities, descent group and cult groups. (ibid.: 95) The progress of ages (yuga) is associated with differentiation. Simultaneously, in terms of discrete time, Das states that Kritayuga is opposed to Kaliyuga. That is, structurally these two ages are positioned in opposition to each other. Das says that ‘not only is a people’s factual past is important but also the conceptions of their past, for the latter is a part of a people’s structural present’ (ibid.: 96, emphasis in original). On this premise, we can understand the meaning of Kaliyuga, only by correlating it with how the Kritayuga is conceptualised by the people who live in Kaliyuga. Hence, the structural opposition between Kritayuga and Kaliyuga, in the Purana becomes important. • Kritayuga: Brahmins are created. Then Vanikas are created in opposition to Brahmin. • Tretayuga: Temporal power is introduced. The relationship between the king (Rama) and the Brahmins is established. • Dwaparyuga: Heretic sects are introduced. The contradiction between the Brahmin and the heretic sects is established. • Kaliyuga: Purana establishes a new code of conducts which is not approved in Dharmasastras and in the earlier ages.

82  Brahmin householder as renouncer Based on this, Das comes to the conclusion that the rules relating to earlier yugas stand for the conceptual order necessary for Hinduism, and the rules relating to ‘Kaliyuga stand for the principles which govern actual relationships between castes’ (ibid.: 97). In our understanding, the Kaliyuga stands for a period in which the householder Brahmin signifies the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. The codes of conduct for Kaliyuga are at total variance with the earlier yugas. The codes of conduct for Kaliyuga are the codes for the relationships between the jatis. These codes of conduct are nothing but attempts at establishing the boundaries and bringing coherence to jatis. We will see some important codes of conduct (ibid.: 68–69): It was decided that yajnas for lower varna would not be performed by the Brahmans and no gifts were to be accepted from the members of these varnas. The varnas which were considered to be lower were Washermen, Leather-workers, Dancers Drummers, Fishermen and Bhils. The Brahmans were forbidden from accepting any gifts from members of these varnas. Whoever accepted gifts from them was to be known as belonging to a lowly house, the polluter of the pankti [refers to the line in which people sit when they are served with food on ritual occasions, such as marriage feasts or feasts given at funerals (given in footnote)] and was to be avoided by all others. (ibid.: 68) Earlier the rule had been that food could be accepted from the house in which a daughter had been given in marriage. This rule was not to be followed in Kaliyuga. In earlier ages, it had been permissible for the different jatis to eat together. Though the Dharmasastras did not say that there were any differences, yet the different jatis of the Brahmans were in future not to accept food from each other’ (ibid.: 68–69). ‘The Brahmans further ruled that whoever accepted money for giving his daughter in marriage was to be regarded as someone who had sold his daughter. Such a person was to be universally avoided’ (ibid.: 69). The most interesting thing to be noted is that in the first point above, the other varnas are described as ‘Washermen, Leather-workers, Dancers, Drummers, Fishermen and Bhils’. This description of the varnas does not fit into the traditional Brahmanical classifications. If I can generalise, we can say that though the text projects itself as if it is speaking about varna, it is in fact, speaking about jatis. Further, the inclusion of Bhils in the list of lower varnas gives us an important clue to understanding the nature of this list. I reproduce the footnote as given by Das (ibid.: 79, emphasis mine): It is interesting to note that Bhilas, a tribal group, are assimilated as a category of Sanskritic civilisation. They are called here as varna; later a story is related in which it is explained that the Bhila chieftain had been born of the left hand of a particular king Vena while a Kshatriya

Brahmin householder as renouncer 83 king Prithu was born from his right hand. The Bhila is said to have been dark, short, with yellow eyes and looked like a thief. Prithu, the Kshatriya king, is said to have been like an incarnation of God. The Bhila was given the mountains and the forest to rule over, while Prithu was given the rest of the world. She continues: [the] story seems to invest the chieftain with dark and evil forces and the Hindu king with the benevolent aspects. Hocart (1969) has shown how kingship conjoins in itself justice and evil. Here the split of these two aspects between the Bhila and Kshatriya king allows the Hindu king to become benevolent. (ibid.: 79n7) Hocart’s point as Das reads it – that ‘kingship conjoins in itself justice and evil’ – is important for our reading. The essential features of the kingship (justice and evil) are split into Kshatriya king and Bhila king. Malevolent aspects are assigned to the Bhila king, and the benevolent aspects are assigned to the Kshatriya king. The left hand is assigned to the former and the right hand to the latter. We can also correlate this with Hesterman’s reading of aranya. A Kshatriya king, in the Vedic world, gets his power only through aranya and not through the villages that he actually rules. The aranya stands for instability and danger. If we try to extend this reading to the other varnas listed, like washermen, leather-workers, dancers, drummers, and fishermen, we can come to the conclusion that one essential quality of being a Brahmin is manifested in these jatis (varnas in the Purana): self-closure. These codes of conducts are very much part of the self-making of Brahmins. But we can make sense of this by reading the exchange of services between these jatis and Brahmins. The exchange relationship between these jatis and the Brahmins can be assessed from Pocock’s reading (1962). Pocock states that the jajmani system subsumes in itself three different kinds of categories of a client who provide services: The first category is of those specialists whose ‘specialisation’ derives from the exigencies of the caste system and not from economic needs or from the intricacy of the craft. This category includes Barbers, Washermen, whose primary function is to purify their higher caste patrons by removing the pollution incurred from bodily processes and it is this category that he would reserve the term jajmani. The second category is of those specialists who provide primarily economic goods and services, and the third category comprises landless labourers and is an open category, in that recruitment is not limited to a single caste. (in Das, 2012: 81)

84  Brahmin householder as renouncer The relationship between the Brahmins and the varna listed in the Purana is of the first type. The relationship is fundamentally based on the ‘ritual aspect of the exchange of services and not the economic aspect’. The rules for Kaliyuga forbids this exchange relationship with ‘lower’ jatis. Das states that [in Kaliyuga] the Brahmins are being forbidden to render ritual services to polluting caste. Here the principle is not that of separation – for the Brahmins are not simultaneously forbidden from receiving services from them. . . . On the other hand, receiving from the polluted castes is not only permissible but even necessary, since one of the tasks of the ‘polluting’ castes is to take away the impurity from the higher castes to whom they provide services. (ibid.: 82) We need to approach this from Sarukkai’s framework that touch-related issues are always subject-centric, a self-defined position, and contact related issues are always object-centric and depend on the value assigned to the object. We need to note that the notion of ‘ideal’ Brahmin is an essential feature of sustaining the Brahmin community and this defines the very process of self-making of the Brahmin. The reading of Sarukkai, which we will see more in detail in the next chapter, is very important. He states: Untouchables are supplemented Acharyas [‘ideal’ Brahmin], and this supplementation is needed for the possibility of having a community of Brahmins whose members no longer carry the burden of ‘pure untouchability’. Thus if there were no creation of a supplemented class of untouchables, there would be no possibility of having a community of Brahmins. The untouchables are the supplemented Brahmins in the final analysis. (2014: 197) The householder Brahmin has an inverted relationship with the sanyasi and other jatis. The householder Brahmins become objects for sanyasi’s untouch sense, and other jatis become objects for the householder Brahmin’s un-touch sense. The Brahmins can define the jatis listed in the Purana as untouchables only by becoming a subject with un-touch sense. The Brahmin cannot be a Brahmin unless he recovers the notion of ‘ideal’ Brahmin. So, in essence, the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, a sanyasi, is there in the Purana, throughout, but without any apparent form. The sects in India are nothing but attempts to recover the ‘true’ meaning of the notional Brahmin, and they are not related to empirical Brahmin jatis. The notional Brahmin becomes the source or the original only through this

Brahmin householder as renouncer 85 continuous act of recovery. But in this act of recovery, the essential quality of the source, the touch-un-ability becomes the defining element of the subject that attempts the recovery through the act of translation.

Note 1 To see how the Panchamahabhute (five basic elements) are transformed socially, refer to Gopal Guru’s ‘Archaeology of Untouchability’ in Gopal Guru and Sundar Sarukkai (2014).

4 Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin

So far we saw what is apparent in the Brahmanical tradition. In this chapter, we will focus on the non-apparent, based on the philosophical reading of untouchability and try to relate to what we discussed in previous chapters. Sundar Sarukkai, in his seminal essay ‘Phenomenology of Untouchability’ (2014), argues that untouchability is the essential component of the very self-making of a Brahmin. The very essence of the Brahmin is dependent on the state of being a ‘pure untouchable’. To substantiate his thesis, Sarukkai draws on the phenomenological traditions and Derrida’s supplementation thesis. As we know, many scholars have tried to conceptualise the caste order, sociologically and historically, academically and politically. But, we do not see any attempts to look at the issue of untouchability conceptually. Untouchability is always approached normatively. The problem with the normative approach is that the notions of purity-pollution and the practice of untouchability would not be differentiated. Ambedkar has made some thought-provoking observations and unfortunately his observations have not been properly studied by the academic community. As far as I know, Sarukkai’s is the first attempt to conceptually approach the issue of untouchability, drawing from both the Indian and Western philosophical traditions. As we saw in Chapter 2, untouchability is not related to or a by-product of the notions of purity and pollution. The problem is that unless we conceptually and philosophically define what touch is, we cannot define untouchability. To understand untouchability, we need to move away from the purity-pollution framework. As Mary Douglas has convincingly established, where there is a system there is dirt or impurity. Impurity is the by-product of the given system. We also saw through Olivelle’s reading that the categorical anxieties (varnasrama framework) of purity and pollution are manifested as bodily anxieties and that these anxieties not only reinforce the boundaries of the body but also create the boundaries of the given order. But untouchability is not the by-product of a given order. Untouchability is the essence. If untouchability is the essence, then how do we correlate this with the essential requirement of being a Brahmin? If untouchability is the essential component of being a Brahmin, the intrinsic quality of the self-making of

88  Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin a Brahmin, how does it evolve as a social order? I wish to approach this issue through the philosophy of translation. I wish to extend Sarukkai’s thesis that untouchability is the essential component of being a Brahmin and argue that discrete jatis define themselves through untouchability. Untouchability is not limited to a set of people who are classified as untouchables. The relationship between the discrete jatis, including the Brahmin jatis, non-Brahmin jatis, and Dalit jatis, in the caste order, is premised on touchun-ability of the subject. Theoretically speaking, touch-un-ability is always part of the subject and is not dependent on who is going to provide the empirical substantiation. In short, each and every jati defines its relation with other jatis based on untouchability. This is not a mere imitation of the Brahmin subject by others. Further, the hierarchal relationship is not the inherent quality of the jatis. Hierarchical quality is based on other social matrices, like access to economic means and temporal power. If as I say the relationship between discrete jatis is based on untouchability then why do we have a set of people called untouchables? I will argue that defining a set of people as Brahmins and as untouchables is the essential requirement for creating order out of discrete experiences of jatis. The caste order is nothing but a mode of sustaining the relationship between the discrete jatis as a single whole. I will attempt to consolidate Sarukkai’s philosophical reading of untouchability in two parts. In the first part, I will try to consolidate his readings on ‘contact’ and ‘touch’. The philosophical understanding of ‘contact’ and ‘touch’ will enable us to differentiate between the notions of purity-­pollution and untouchability. In the second part, I will consolidate his reading of Derrida’s supplementation theory, correlating with what we discussed in the previous chapters.

Contact and touch The sense of touch is fundamental to living beings. Whether it is a human being or an animal being, without a sense of touch, they become dead. A human being can have life without other senses, but a human body without a sense of touch is a corpse. ‘When other senses fail’, Saruukai quoting Montagu (1971) says, ‘the skin can to an extraordinary degree compensate for their deficiencies’ (2014: 159). In short, when we say that a human body has life, it means that the body has a sense of touch. Sarukkai argues that, The living body is primarily a tactile body, and other senses belong not just to the body, but to the tactile body. The Aristotelian idea of the primacy of touch as the central sense in the body means that touch is not only what defines the body, but also the nature of the life. Thus, through touch, life as such, in its totality, opens itself to the dimensions that constitute corporeity. (2014: 162)

Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin 89 Another essential point that Sarukkai brings out is that touch involves human action unlike seeing or hearing, where a subject can be passive. But in the act of touch, the subject becomes active. In other words, without being active, a subject cannot manifest his/her sense of touch. The different senses of the body constitute different experiences of the subject. But the very fundamental difference between touch sense and other senses as Sarukkai says, is that, ‘the other senses can be spectatorial in character whereas touch immerses us in the world, makes possible our very existence in this world’ (ibid.: 162). Sarukkai discusses the difference between ‘contact’ and ‘touch’ (ibid.: 162–167). He discusses Chretien’s (2004) thesis and notes that ‘contact is one phenomenological experience of touch’. When in contact the physical distance between the subject and object is erased. But is this erasure complete in nature? Following Aristotle, Chretien says, ‘the interval is never abolished, only forgotten’ (ibid.: 87–88). Because the interval between the subject and the object is not erased completely, and ‘this ever-present intervening “body” constitutes “an untouchable element in touch, skin, or membrane that separates the skin from things but cannot be felt” ’ (ibid.: 88). When in contact, we also touch. When we touch, are we in contact? If yes, then it means that there is no difference between contact and touch. If we understand both as the same, then, Sarukkai argues, ‘we forget the continuing presence of the medium that is essential for any idea of touch’. He continues: ‘To touch is to move towards the object, to bring surfaces into contact’. In the act of touch, ‘the distance that characterises the object of touch is forgotten and also the ever-present minute distance between surfaces of contact’ is forgotten because ‘near and far are phenomenological experiences belonging to a subject, unlike categories such as contact and distance’ (Sarukkai, 2014: 163). If the characteristic feature of touch is the ever-present medium, that is untouchable, then what is the essential quality of contact? Is untouchability practised in India related to contact or to touch? Understanding the difference between contact and touch will help us to differentiate untouchability and not touching, that is, not being in contact, because not being in contact is related to the value assigned to an object. Touch is a guna, quality, like the taste, smell and contact. What is the difference between touch and contact? One is locus-pervading, and the other is not. When a monkey is in contact with a tree, it is in contact only with those parts of the tree and those parts of itself which are in mutual contact. . . . Touch is a quality only for earth, water, fire and air whereas contact is quality of all the nine substances including akasa, time, place, self and internal organ. Furthermore, touch is perceived only thorough one sense organ, but contact can be by two sense organs. Also, contact produces a variety of qualities including pleasure, pain, aversion, merit, demerit. However, touch does not produce these which contact does. (ibid.: 165)

90  Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin Further, Sarukkai says, The notion of contact is much broader than that of touch. Contact is a quality that inheres in a pair of substances. This means that contact is a quality that is present in the ‘toucher’ and the ‘touched’. If two bodies are in contact with each other, then that contact is a symmetrical relation – each body is in contact with the other. However, in the case of touch, there seems to be an asymmetry since the person who touches is at the same time not being touched by the object. (ibid.: 165, emphasis mine) Sarukkai takes the example of sensing roughness and smoothness to illustrate the difference between contact and touch. The hardness or softness we sense are not related to touch, but to contact. That is, the visual organ contributes to sensing the hardness and softness, along with the tactile organ. In short, Sarukkai says, a ‘touch is a limited form of contact, one that is detectable by the tactile organ alone’ (ibid.: 166). Contact involves two entities, subject and object. But, touch is a human sense, that is always part of the subject and is not dependent on the object or the second entity. In Brahmanism, the categorical anxieties of the householder are related to contact because contact is a quality that requires the ‘touched’ (object) and the ‘toucher’ (subject) whereas the ascetic tradition in Brahmanism is talking about the issue of touch. The householder-centric worldview locates the impurities outside the body and hence when it gets into contact with these impurities, it attempts to recover the pure state. Householder anxieties are related to coming into contact with something that is outside the given order or with something that is in a liminal state. If there is no contact, there is no touch. On the other hand, the ascetic tradition sees the human body itself as composed of impurities. The Upanisadic authors raise a fundamental question: Since a hand of the body is continuously touching another hand of the body that compose the whole, what is the use of purification? We do not say the left hand is in contact with the right hand. We only say the left hand touches the right hand. That is, touch is not dependent on the ‘touched’ and the ‘toucher’. The ascetic tradition in responding to the householder worldview takes the issue of contact to that of touch. The notions of puritypollution are contact related and associated with the duality of touchertouched, whereas touch is always subject-centric. Sarukkai says ‘contact is a relation and needs two substances whereas touch is a quality that is present in an individual substance’ (ibid.: 166). To understand the intrinsic quality of touch, we will look into the relation between the senses and the objects of the senses. The objects of the senses make the senses corporeal. Since touch is always subject-centric, it needs to create corresponding objects for a sense of touch. Because more than one sense contributes to the phenomenological experience of the subject, the act

Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin 91 of touch becomes a contact. In our shared understanding of untouchability, a person who is ‘untouched’ becomes untouchable. But, ‘untouched’ does not become ‘untouchable’. A person or a set of people are ‘untouched’ because the subject within the given order must not come into contact with them. The value assigned to the object determines if an object can be ‘touched’ or ‘untouched’. Here, ‘touched’ or ‘untouched’ relates to touch as one part of ‘contact’. Where there is touch, there is contact. Since contact with a person defined as untouchable is seen as defiling, he/she must not be touched. If we read this as untouchability then, as Sarukkai says, the ‘quality of untouchability is located in the object’. That is, the untouchability becomes part of the object. If this quality is part of the object, then whether that person is in contact with another person or not, that person becomes untouchable. As an object, he remains untouchable without any reference to a subject. We saw that the householder tradition locates the dirt and impurities ‘outside’ the body and the ascetic tradition locates these impurities ‘inside’ the body. Where is the boundary between the ‘outside’ and ‘inside’? The skin of the human body operates as the boundary. The skin performs an important function of ‘encompassing and enclosing. It is intrinsically related to boundaries and surfaces’ (ibid.: 169). Since skin acts as the boundary between the interior and exterior, the skin ‘becomes the primary organ of relation, and touch is its principal action’ (Glucklich, 1994 in Sarukkai, 2014: 169). Skin determines how we relate to this world. If the skin acts as the boundary of the body system, anything outside that boundary can be assigned as dirt or impure. The skin is literally a boundary. The importance of the idea of the boundary in Indian thought is manifested in the narratives of frames, doors, walls of home and temples and so on. In this context, walls function like a boundary [skin], and doors are a way to move from the inside to the outside [openings of the body]. Glucklich explicitly notes the connection between skin and wall when he notes that ‘walls, much like the human skin, possess reflective, transitive, and temporal characteristics’. (Sarukkai, 2014: 170) The householder anxieties are about the inlet/outlet of the body. The anxieties control what gets inside and adds value to what goes outside. But the ascetic worldview, as we saw earlier, locates the human body and the house in the same plane. It sees both as constituted by impurities. That is why liberating from both of the house and body is seen as essential for one’s liberation. The ascetic worldview does not exhibit anxieties about the inlet/outlet of the human body. In the householder framework, people with whom ‘contact’ must not be established become untouched people. To contact, and as an extension of this to touch the untouched people, a subject must cross the established boundary. But what about untouchability? Both untouchability

92  Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin and notions of purity and pollution establish a boundary that must not be crossed, though they are fundamentally different in nature. Sarukkai says: The practice of untouchability has to do with a boundary that cannot be crossed. The interpretation of dharma as boundary allows the Indian mind to invoke the idea of dharma in the context of untouchability. . . . If morality in some sense is to be ascribed to untouchability, then it can be done if they share a common characteristic – in this case, the character of the boundary. (ibid.: 170) What is the difference between the nature of boundary in untouchability and in notions of purity and pollution? To understand the difference, we need to look into how the ‘outside’ and ‘inside’ are determined by these two phenomena. Contact determines the inside/outside in the purity-pollution duality and touch in untouchability. The notion of purity and pollution is related to something that is ‘outside’ and to something that is on the ‘boundary’ (neither inside nor outside) and related to contact. Individuals who are in the liminal state are seen as dangerous and those who are outside the boundary are assigned values such as impure, either temporarily or permanently. The people inside the given order do not contact those who are pushed ‘outside’ or on the boundaries, that is, in a liminal state. It is a bit difficult to imagine the difference between contact and touch because, as Sarukkai says, in common usage, touch refers to some idea of contact. But we need to remember that touch is one part of the contact – for example, persons classified as Candalas or people who have committed ‘five great sins’ or menstruating women are located either ‘outside’ or on the boundary of the given order. The people who are ‘inside’ the given order cannot have any contact with them. As touch is part of contact, these people become untouched. That is, these people become untouched because they are outside the purview of contact. The untouched people remain as objects for the given subject’s sense of touch, but untouched by that subject. That is why, though some people may be untouched it does not mean they are subjected to untouchability. Ambedkar says that though Candalas are untouched, they are not subjected to untouchability. This is an extraordinary reading by Ambedkar. In ‘The Untouchables: Who Were They and Why They Became Untouchables’, he writes, That those who are called untouchables lived outside the village from the very beginning, even before they became untouchables and that they continued to live outside the village because of the supervention of untouchability at a later stage is the only possibility worth consideration. (1990: 273) Ambedkar clearly makes the distinction between untouched people and untouchables. The Candalas as untouched people are to be outside the

Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin 93 boundary and as untouchables are to be inside the boundary. In the Bible also we can find reference to people who are untouched. But they are not ‘untouchables’. As we saw above, contact is related to two entities. Without a subject and an object, contact cannot get its corporeal form. In the notions of purity-pollution, the two entities are outside-inside, toucher-touched. Coming into contact with the outside entities is treated as polluting the ‘inside’, and the persons inside are to get purified by appropriate rituals or actions. So, contact defines the inside and outside, the boundaries (liminal state) in a given order. On the other hand, touch, as one part of the contact, is fundamentally subject-centric and is not dependent on the quality or the value assigned to the second entity. Untouchability is not related to contact with persons who are ‘outside’, nor is it related to the crossing of boundaries defined by notion of purity-pollution. The boundary of touch related to untouchability is the self-defined position. As long as the householder and the ascetic worldviews existed as two distinct perspectives, the notion of purity-pollution formed the essential component of householder dharma. On the other hand, the ascetic worldview could not accept the householder dharma and is structured in its antiness. Olivelle calls this anti-culture. Though both of these worldviews are dependent on the very idea of outside and inside; the householder dharma establishes a kind of boundary and the ascetic tradition erases this boundary and creates another sort of boundary. But both have the notion of inside/ outside, though they are fundamentally different. But this outside and inside are always problematic. ‘A phenomenology of the body’, Sarukkai (2014: 171–172) says, ‘makes us realise that the body is conceptually grasped by us, not in terms of experience such as inner and outer but as something enclosed by skin, as a unity and as “ours” ’. Sarukkai continues: proscribing touch is not only biologically and psychologically the most damaging, but it is also the only way that matches a much larger narrative of untouchability, and this narrative, contrary to most accounts is not really about the pure and impure as much as it is about the metaphysics of the body. It is the ascetic tradition in Brahmanism that is concerned with the issue of touch. The skin forms the boundary between the ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ and because of this ‘a person whose skin is untouchable’, Sarukkai says, ‘is himself an untouchable person’ (ibid.). How do we relate this to untouched person? Can we say, taking the example of the Candala, that the person whose skin is untouched does not become an untouchable? He becomes only an untouched person. What is the basic difference between an untouched person and an untouchable? That is, an untouched person does not automatically become an object for a given subject’s un-touch sense. We have the sense of touch because we have objects for a sense of touch in this world, which can be touched or not. But where is the object for un-touch sense?

94  Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin A human sense cannot be corporeal unless it has corresponding objects. Can the objects for the sense of touch, but untouched by themselves, become objects for un-touch sense? As we saw above, and I agree with Sarukkai that untouchability is not really about purity-pollution. ‘Something’ more is required for a person whose skin is untouched to become untouchable. The Candala, as an untouched object himself, cannot become untouchable. ‘Something’ more is required. If untouchability cannot be located in the anxieties of inside/outside, then where do we locate the source of untouchability? To understand untouchability, we need to move away from the physical act of contact. ‘The idea of untouchable’, Sarukkai says, ‘is essential to the notion of touch’ (ibid.: 174). As an example, Sarukkai says that when we say that we touch a chair, ‘we do not say that the chair also touches me’. What is the subject-object positioning in relation to touching and being touched? Can we say that when a body becomes a subject when it touches and when being touched it becomes an object? To address this dilemma, Sarukkai discusses the ‘idea of reversibility’ of Merleau-Ponty (1968) and Dillon (1997). The basic model of reversibility is that of one hand touching another. In the case of one hand touching another, there is unity in touching and touched. Although there is no identity of the touching and the touched hand, this process ‘opens’ the body ‘in two’. Merleau-Ponty uses this analysis to argue for the notion of ‘identity-within difference’ in the sense that the touching hand is different from the touched hand (although both ‘belong’ to the same body). (Sarukkai, 2014: 175) Without a body being a subject and object simultaneously, how can one hand touch another, when both the hands are part of a single whole. How is this self-touching different from touching the objects of the world? Sarukkai says they cannot be different. ‘The experience of being touched while touching – as it occurs in the case of one hand touching another – is not restricted to self-touching. Such an experience occurs even in the case of touching the objects of the world’ (ibid.: 176). When we touch, we are also touched. There is no subject-object duality in the act of touch. Where does this coincidence occur? In the mind or in the consciousness? Or because of some unity that forms the whole? Whether one of my hands is touching another or my hand is touching the objects of the world, the simultaneous experience of touching and being touched, for Merleau-Ponty, resides in the ‘untouchable’. To touch and touch oneself. . . . They do not coincide in the body: the touching is never exactly the touched. This does not mean that they coincide ‘in the mind’ or at the level of ‘consciousness’. Something else than the body is needed for the junction to be made: it takes place in the

Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin 95 untouchable. That of the other which I will never touch. But I will never touch, he does not touch either . . . it is therefore not the consciousness that is untouchable. . . . The untouchable is not a touchable in fact inaccessible – the unconscious is not the representation, in fact, inaccessible. (Merleau-Ponty, 1968: 254, in Sarukkai, 2014: 177) ‘The untouchable is not a touchable in fact inaccessible’ is the important difference between the untouched person and the untouchable. The untouched person is, in fact, touchable but not touched whereas an untouchable person is not accessible to a sense of touch. One such inaccessibility is the ‘law of tact’. Sarukkai discusses Derrida’s thesis of untouchable. Derrida discusses the untouchable connecting it to ‘tact’. For example, we do not grab a person unknown to us (tactless act). Is that person an untouchable? What is the notion of untouchable here? If I am tactless, I may just reach out and grab a person I do not know. Why is this tactile response tactless? Because I do not respect – I do not respect the law that separates us, the law of tact and not just the person who is the object of my touch. The untouchable here is a law (of tact) and not the other person, for I could replace that person, but I would still respect the law. (ibid.: 179–180) In short, we can say that the untouchable here is the inaccessible law and it is not dependent on who is going to provide empirical substantiation for that law. According to Derrida, ‘the untouchable is understood with respect to a “law”, one that is not imposed by religion or culture but is present in the very act of touching’ (ibid.: 180). In the act of touch, there are two intervening aspects: an ever-present, non-erasable gap in the act of touch and not being proper objects of touch. But these are not related to the practice of untouchability in India. How do we relate the practice of untouchability in India with what we are discussing? If the untouchability involved in not grasping unknown persons and the practice of untouchability in India are based on something that is inaccessible, that is, if the former is based on the law of tact, and the latter is based on the law of purity-pollution, then we get into conceptual problems. Derrida says the law of tact is inaccessible. Hence the untouchable is not the person who provides empirical substantiation, but the law itself. The laws of purity-pollution are accessible. They are related to contact and part of the given order. The law of tact cannot be located in the religious or temporal or cultural practices. That is why it is inaccessible. This law is embodied in the very act of touch. So, we need to locate the source of untouchability that is practised in India not in the rules and practices of purity-pollution, but in the very act of touch. In other words, in something that is inaccessible. Before we go to the source of untouchability practised in India, I wish to argue that un-touch sense is untranslatable. There are different kinds of

96  Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin touch, but only one kind of un-touch. Sarukkai asks why ‘the difference that is present in the many different types of touching gets erased when we consider the non-touch’ and ‘what is it about non-touch that all the distinctions that characterize the different types of touch vanish?’ (ibid.: 181). That is, touch can be translated in many different ways. But un-touch does not allow any sort of translation. Un-touch closes itself. We will later see how touch allows different kinds of translation as in the natural languages and how un-touch, being only one kind, has a quality similar to that of mathematics, which is basically untranslatable. It is in this particular act [vanishing of different types of touch] that one should situate untouchability. It is in this space that the Indian conception of untouchability should be seen. The way such a difference is negated – paradoxically – is by making non-touch itself a sense! (ibid.: 181, emphasis mine) ‘Non-touch itself as a sense’ is a brilliant thesis put forth by Sarukkai. I sincerely believe that this thesis will have long-term implications on untouchability and caste studies and that all the existing theories of caste will have to be revalidated from this perspective. In fact, this book is one such modest attempt to understand the caste order through un-touch sense. If untouchability has to be situated in the un-touch sense, can the objects of purity-­ pollution also be objects for un-touch sense? The objects of purity-pollution are basically objects for touch sense, but untouched. That is why the categorical anxieties in Brahmanism focus on regaining the lost purity. Ambedkar says that ‘there was no untouchability in the time of Manu. There was only Impurity. Even the Candalas for whom Manu has nothing but contempt is only an impure person’ (1990: 373). The objects of purity-pollution are not objects for un-touch sense. This difference is significant. Ambedkar’s statement that Candalas are not untouchables, but untouched, must be seen from this understanding. The object of senses defines the senses. But the problem is that there is no definitive object for un-touch sense in this world. But, in the Indian context, Sarukkai writes, the creation of untouchability as a category precisely does this job of creating a discursive set of objects – and these are objects of the sense of the non-touch or un-touch. Therefore, just as there are objects of vision and hearing, there are objects specific to the sense of un-touch – these are the untouchables. (2014: 182) In short, we can say that objects of purity and pollution are related to the sense of touch but untouched. Untouchability is related to objects of untouch sense.

Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin 97

Objects for un-touch sense Like we have different sense objects for different senses, we must have objects for un-touch sense to make this sense corporeal. As Sarukkai rightly points out creating objects for un-touch sense is not limited to creating a set of people called untouchables. It is related to the creation of objects for un-touch sense. Like objects that are open for a sense of touch, but untouched (because of notions of purity-pollution), the objects of un-touch sense are also, as Sarukkai says, ‘potentially open to touch yet are objects of un-touch’ (ibid.: 183). Sarukkai further states that ‘there indeed are many objects of non-touch, just as there are objects of non-sight. Space and time are two entities that are both untouchable and unseeable’ and merely not being objects of touch is not enough to make something objects of non-touch. Space, time, God, properties, and so on are not objects of touch, but they do not become objects of non-touch. Thus, they are not objects of the sense of non-touch and in this sense are not untouchables. (ibid.: 183) To make the un-touch sense socially meaningful, objects for this sense needs to be created. So, there is a fundamental difference between objects that cannot be touched, objects that are untouched, and objects that are for untouch sense. The person before me is a person who can be touched; he/she is open to touch. A subject is free to cross some sort of boundary that contains him/her to touch a person in front of him. That is, unless a person before a given subject, becomes an object for un-touch sense, the person remains as an object for touch sense, who can be touched or untouched. The fundamental difference between the objects for touch sense, but untouched, and the objects for un-touch sense is that the objects for un-touch sense cannot be outside the given order, and must necessarily remain within it to be objects for an untouch sense of the subject. If untouchability is also related to the crossing of the boundary, it is a different boundary than that of the notions of purity-pollution. Derrida’s reading of Jesus’s act of touching is illuminating. He discusses how Jesus becomes momentarily an untouchable. Derrida (2005: 100) tries to connect the relationship between salvation and touching. ‘Salvation’, he says, ‘saves by touching, and the Savior, namely the Toucher, is also touched: he is saved, safe, unscathed, and free of damage. Touched by grace’ (in Sarukkai, 2014: 183). Derrida (2005: 101) argues that, ‘it is not only his touching but the fact that he can be touched that is important – or at least that something of his (which has been in contact with him) can be touched’, and he goes on to say that, ‘although these are descriptions in the books of Matthew and Luke, the gospel according to John has no reference to these touching’. Derrida suggests that this is because ‘Jesus becomes momentarily

98  Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin untouchable’ (in Sarukkai, 2014: 184). How can we correlate this momentary untouchability of Jesus with the practice of untouchability in India? Touching involves crossing the boundary. Derrida’s ‘law of tact’, brings out the inaccessible in untouchability. The ‘tact’ is the boundary. The act of touching an unknown woman walking in the street is nothing but crossing the boundary of ‘tact’. This crossing of the boundary is not related to any value assigned or not assigned to that woman. Jesus crosses the boundary related to the ‘law of tact’ and touches the untouched. Because in the act of touch there is no subject-object duality, the touched, that is untouched also touches Jesus. The touched and the toucher become parts of one whole. In the gospel of John, Jesus does not cross the boundary of ‘tact’ and hence, momentarily becomes untouchable. Jesus does not touch and is not touched. According to Derrida, Jesus becomes untouchable in the gospel of John. This is something we can relate to crossing the boundary and touching the Candala in our context. We saw that Candalas are not untouchable though they are untouched. We can extend this notion and say though not touching has an element of touch-un-ability, the objects that are not touched are not necessarily subjected to untouchability because when a subject sees or touches Candala, defined as impure, the subject can purify himself. So, Jesus becoming momentarily untouchable is related to not touching and hence not getting touched. It is not because of the negation of sense of touch. That is, John’s Jesus did not create objects for the un-touch sense of Jesus. Sarukkai says that ‘relating untouchability to objects of the sense of nontouch fundamentally distinguishes it from mere acts of untouchability’ and basically ‘there is a negation of sense of touch’. Without negating the sense of touch, in all its various possible translations, un-touch sense cannot be appropriated. Acquiring touch-un-ability essentially means negating various forms of the sense of touch. In the case of Candalas, and John’s Jesus, there is no negation of sense of touch. But in the general understanding of untouchability, the manifestations to safeguard the boundaries are treated as manifestations of untouchability. Let us take the example of people who are associated with manual scavenging: are they untouchables because they are associated with impurities or the by-product of the body system, or because they are associated with impurities, they become untouchables? As Sarukkai says, there is ‘an inherent cyclicity’ in this argument. This argument does not lead us anywhere. So, where do we locate the un-touch sense? To approach this issue, Sarukkai raises an important question: How does the word ‘untouchable’ work? This question is important because the word untouchable is basically object-centric. The value assigned to the object determines whether the object becomes touchable or untouchable. In this context, it is very interesting to note when the word ‘untouchable’ became a noun. According to Online Etymology Dictionary the word ‘untouchable’ was used only as an adjective starting in 1560 CE. The word became a noun only in 1909, and it came so only from the Indian experience. In short, I wish to state that the word ‘untouchable’ as a noun does not express the

Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin 99 practice of untouchability in India properly. Sarukkai, attempting to decode this word, is brilliant. He asks, does the word untouchable translate into ‘not-touchable’ or ‘touchunable’, that is, unable to touch? The primary difference between these two formulations is that they point to two different types of inability. In the former it is the ability placed on the object of touch – the object of touch is such that it is inaccessible to the sense of touch (like space or God), whereas in the latter, it is such that the subject is unable to fulfil the act of touching. In the first case, it points to the nature of the object that is sought to be touched while in the second case it is the nature of the subject who is unable to touch. It is clear, therefore that the case of an untouchable points to the inability of the ‘toucher’ rather than any inability of the touched person. Thus the real site of untouchability is the person who refuses to touch the untouchable. (ibid.: 185–186, emphasis in original) Sarukkai further discusses how touching becomes reflective because of touchun-ability of the subject. This is important because reflection is always modelled on vision. He argues, because of the touch-un-ability, a subject becomes reflective before he/she touches anything. The skin of the subject closes itself and opens only after proper reflection. Since the sense of touch is essential to any living being, and when this essential sense becomes reflective, then there is a negation of this very fundamental sense of the human being. That is, as Sarukkai says, ‘touching is no more an ‘automatic’ sense but becomes a judgement. In so doing, it gets modelled on vision’ (Sarukkai, 2014: 187). These are critical theoretical formulations. The sense of touch does not have any specific organ like eyes or ears. That is, there is ‘no localised organ in the body that does the job of touching’. Then, what is the organ for touching? The organ of touch is skin. If you do not like to touch something, then you have to ‘close your skin’ [like closing the eyes/ears]. But closing the skin is to close the first means of contact with the world. . . . We cannot live without the skin, although we can live without the other senses. Simply put, the moment you close the skin, you die. (ibid.: 186, emphasis mine) As Merleau-Ponty points out, to touch is to touch oneself and tactile experiencing the other is simultaneously self-experiencing. We can say that the subject who manifests ‘touch-un-ability’ becomes a corpse. The abler a person’s ‘touch-un-ability’, the more that person becomes a corpse. A dead body does not possess the sense of touch; it posses untouch sense. The act of touch does not have subject-object duality. One hand is touching another hand basically demonstrates the negation of subject-object

100  Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin duality in the act of touching. As Sarukkai says, ‘the model of touching others is that of touching oneself. Thus, in the most primal sense of the term, denying oneself the fulfilment of touch leads to denying oneself the capacity to touch oneself’ and, ‘the person who refuses to touch an untouchable suffers from “touch-un-ability”. This inability to touch is the characteristic of the toucher and not the touched’ (ibid.: 186, emphasis mine). That is, ‘touch-un-ability’ is always part of the subject, never the object. It is always subject-centric and cannot be object-centric. That is why a subject can purify himself if he/she comes into contact with and touches something that should not be touched. In untouchability, purification is not possible or necessary. When we try to correlate these readings with the householder-centric and ascetic-centric views in Brahmanism before Sankara, we can say with confidence that the householder Brahmin’s body is not constituted with un-touch sense. That is why in the Dharmasutras there are so many anxieties about purification of the body or regaining the pure state of the body. Also, based on Olivelle’s study, we saw that there is no word in Sanskrit for the absolute pure or impure state. In the absolute pure or impure state, there is no time, no life, no human action. That is why the householder dharma accepts that there is no absolute state of purity. Human beings must necessarily live with the bodily excretion, the dirt and impurities. However, the categorical and bodily anxieties intertwine as anxieties about inside/outside. The ascetic tradition, on the other hand, saw the human body as inherently made of impurities and any act of recovering the pure state as useless. There is a fundamental difference between the ascetic tradition in Brahmanism and in other ascetic traditions like Buddhism or Jainism. Sarukkai says, ‘the metaphysics of Buddhism is indeed one that negates the metaphysics of untouchability’ (ibid.: 172). At the same time, we also need to remember that Buddhism did not address the anxieties of sustaining a householder body. The householder body and the ascetic body cannot operate under the same constructions. The irony is, Buddhism did not negotiate between two different bodies, the householder body and the ascetic body. But in Brahmanism, particularly in the latter asrama system, when the four ways of life become four stages of life, the Brahmin householder though he renounces, remains a Brahmin. When a Brahmin remains a Brahmin, even after renouncing, the anxieties of inside/outside of the householder must be addressed. The inside/outside anxieties of a renouncer cannot be similar to that of a householder. In other words, though a Brahmin remains a Brahmin, even after renouncing, he has to be a renouncer, and different from the householder. The ‘contact’-related anxieties of the householder become ‘touch’-related anxieties of a renouncer. Though the ascetic tradition takes the issue of contact to the touch level, the interrelatedness of contact and touch, I think, is not addressed by the ascetic tradition. The ascetic tradition has to build itself based on something related to ‘touch’ and not ‘contact’, because ‘contact’ is related to the householder. Sarukkai writes that ‘not touching another is actually a manifestation of the

Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin 101 problem of touching oneself – this shift is precisely what makes untouchability in the Indian context unique. This is what differentiates it from other objects that are beyond the sense of touch. That is, in an essential sense, untouchability is actually about the always-present, potential untouchability not of another but of oneself’ (ibid.: 189, emphasis in original). We can safely conclude that the anxieties in the Dharmasutras are related to ‘contact’ and not ‘touch’. There is no conceptual framework for untouchability in Dharma literature. This forces us to look into the issue of untouchability at the site of ascetic tradition in Brahmanism. The site for ‘touch-un-ability’ can be located at the rite of renunciation. The Brahmin renouncer conceptualised in the medieval period is completely different from the Dharmasastric Brahmanism. This difference is directly related to how a Brahmin renounces. Olivelle says, ‘little information is contained in the Dharmasutras on the rite or ceremony that accompanies the act of renouncing’ (2011b: 279). Oliver Freiberger writes that ‘although Dharmasutras contain a number of rules concerning the life of a renouncer, its authors are rather tight-lipped when it comes to a rite of renunciation’ (2005: 236). When a Brahmin renounces, he is dead both ritually and legally. Olivelle states that the renunciation, came to be viewed increasingly in terms of death. The renouncer’s separation from the social ties was as total and as final as that caused by death. The belief in the ritual/legal death of the renouncer has far-reaching consequences in the area of religious practice. (2011b: 283) Only a dead Brahmin can free himself from the ritual obligations. This is because in Brahmanism, the Brahmin essentially denotes a householder and the ritual status constitutes a householder. When the renouncer becomes an antithesis to the householder, he attains a non-ritual state. For a Brahmin householder to be alive, the renouncer Brahmin has to be dead. The Samnyasa Upanisads handle the rite of renunciation. These Upanisads clearly state that the rites performed for a dead Brahmin are to be performed when a Brahmin renounces. This is a significant shift in the ritualistic worldview of Brahmanism. The Brahmin renouncer, who was non-ritual, is brought back into the ritual order. The non-ritual state is achieved only through proper rites. We saw earlier that Sankara defined the Paramahamsa sanyasi as an ‘ideal Brahmin’ and that the ‘ideal Brahmin’ is not bounded by varnasramadharma. A Paramahamsa sanyasi is one who discards all external emblems like the topknot and sacrificial cord, the essential signifiers of a Brahmin. But post-Sankara, the rite of renunciation and the notion of Paramahamsa sanyasi as the ‘ideal’ Brahmin combined resulted in far-reaching consequences. In the Brahmanical ritual tradition, a Brahmin who dies is in preta state for a certain period, before he can join his ancestors. But when a renouncer physically dies no such rites are performed for him because these

102  Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin rites are already performed when he renounced. Hence he is in the permanent liminal state, similar to people who have committed suicide.1 When a Brahmin renouncer physically dies, he is not cremated. So, when the Brahmin renouncer is brought back into the ritual order, he not only becomes an ‘ideal’ Brahmin but also enters into a permanent state of preta. A preta does not have a sense of touch because it is not corporeal. That is, the ‘ideal’ Brahmin becomes inaccessible. Merleau-Ponty’s statement that ‘the untouchable is not touchable, in fact, inaccessible’ can be correlated with the preta state of the ‘ideal Brahmin’. The untouchable, the ‘ideal Brahmin’ is in fact inaccessible. None can touch this ‘ideal Brahmin’ because this Brahmin in the preta state loses his ability to touch. Since touch does not have toucher-touched duality, the ‘ideal’ Brahmin becomes a subject with touch-un-ability. This inaccessible ‘ideal Brahmin’, who cannot touch or be touched, is the essential nature of the self-making of the Brahmin subject. So, the real site of untouchability can be located in the accessible body of an ‘ideal’ Brahmin. How this notional entity defined as an ‘ideal Brahmin’, an entity that is inaccessible, that cannot touch or be touched became part of the order is an important question. I wish to approach this issue through the philosophy of translation. That is, only through the act of translating the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, the objects for an untouch sense of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin becomes a subject. This translation is the essential part of not only the Brahmin reformers, but also the non-Brahmin and Dalit reformers. Only through continuous translation, the notion of ‘ideal Brahmin’ becomes a ‘source’. As a sort of summary, I would like to restate that untouchability is not the by-product of a system, it is the essence of the relationship between discrete jatis. Untouchability is not the by-product of the varna scheme or notions of purity-pollution. This is altogether a different social matrix. In untouchability-based social matrix, the ‘contact’-related pre-existing social anxieties of purity-pollution contribute to the anxieties of touch-un-ability of the subject because touch is one phenomenological experience of contact.

Caste order and the ‘ideal’ Brahmin As Sarukkai states, ‘the notion of being an untouchable is an essential and necessary component of being a Brahmin. To be a Brahmin is to be an untouchable’ (2014: 193). But does the Brahmin in this sense denote the householder or the renouncer? Sarukkai approaches the question of touchun-ability of the Brahmin through Derrida’s supplementation thesis. In Western philosophical traditions, thought, speech, and writing are arranged hierarchically, and in particular, speech and writing are seen as binary oppositions. According to Derrida, one of the binary oppositions that Jean-Jacques Rousseau reproduces is that between speech and writing. Speech is elevated as the immediate, natural medium of linguistic expression par excellence, while writing is

Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin 103 relegated to a mere supplement of speech’ and ‘writing is an unproductive representation of speech which lacks immediacy. (in Kakoliris, 2015) Derrida’s critique of the binary of speech and writing is vital to understand how the notion of ‘ideal’ Brahmin becomes a signified, and how the householder Brahmins become signifiers. Only through the signifier can the signified become a ‘source’. Derrida critiques the view that speech is superior to writing and says the writing does not act as a mere supplement to speech. Sarukkai says that ‘it is the supplement that brings to presence the signified’ and ‘the signified is not accessible to us except through the presence of the signifiers’ (2014: 195). Speech does not supplement thinking, it signifies it; writing does not supplement speech, it signifies it. In short, it is ‘the supplement’ as Sarukkai says, ‘that makes the original possible’. That is, similar to how speech (signifier) brings to presence thought (signified), and writing (signifier) brings to presence speech (signified), the householder Brahmins (signifier) bring to presence the notion of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin (signified). The signifiers always try to recover the signified, the original, and only through the continuous act of recovering the signified, does the signified become a ‘source’. The signified is always hidden, inaccessible. This inaccessibility can be approached only through the act of translation. ‘If we take speech as “inside” and writing as “outside”, both the “outside” and “inside” are constituted by the multiplying results of supplementarity, something that puts into question the accuracy of a rigid opposition between “inside” and “outside” ’ (Kakoliris, 2015). Speech/inside is not independent of writing/outside, and writing/outside is not a mere supplementation of speech/inside. If we take the notion of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin as speech/inside and the householder Brahmins as writing/outside, then, ‘the thing supplemented (speech) [‘ideal’ Brahmin], turns out to need supplementation because it proves to have the same qualities originally thought to characterize only the supplement (writing) [householder Brahmin]’ (Sarukkai, 2014: 196). The ‘ideal’ Brahmin, a Paramahamsa sanyasi, as defined by Sankara, is without any signifiers that can signify the Brahmin. The Paramahamsa sanyasi is relieved of carrying any external emblems, including sacrificial cord and topknot, that essentially signifies the Brahmin. In a way, we can say that Sankara defines the ‘ideal’ Brahmin without any signifier. How can an ‘ideal’ Brahmin be a Brahmin without signifiers? Sankara was challenged on precisely this point. In the medieval period, this created much controversy. The controversy was around whether the Brahmin renouncer discards the sacrificial cord (yajnopavita) and the topknot (sikha), whether he carries a single staff (ekadanda) or three staffs tied together (tridanda or trivistabdha). Olivelle says that this controversy was mainly between the Samkarite renouncers and the followers of Ramanuja. The former allowed a top-knot, a sacrificial cord and a triple staff to the two lower grades of renouncers, Kuticakas

104  Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin and Bahudakas. The highest class of renouncers, the Paramahamsas, had neither a top-knot nor a sacrificial cord, and carried a single staff. The followers of Ramanuja saw not only the top-knot and the cord, but also the triple staff as obligatory on all renouncers. A bitter attack on the Samkarite position is contained in Varadacarya’s Yatilingasamarthana and Vedanta Desika’s Yatillingabhedabhangavada. (2011b: 282) Vedanta Desika (13th century CE) in his Alepakamatabhangavada advances interesting arguments to refute Sankara’s Advaita position. Vedanta Desika talks about the ‘doctrine of incorporeality’ in attacking Sankara’s position. This text is written in the format of a dialogue between the author and the opponent. The opponent is an Advaitian. Desika says, Furthermore, how would the people whose arguments are based on the authority of the absolute non-duality of the self, the falsity of the universe, and other such doctrines taught by him (Samkara) have obtained a proper understanding of some meaningless point, even though it has been determined by him? By demolishing the validity of ‘liberationin-life’, moreover, we have also crushed those fallacies as the doctrine of incorporeality that was brought forward to demonstrate the abandonment of the dharma of varnas and asramas because a) the close connection between the body, and pleasure, pain, and the like that are appropriate to that body, is established by means of knowledge such as perception, and therefore, its denial is prevented by same means of knowledge; b) relying on the fact that even though by nature the soul is free from varna and asrama, yet it possesses them insofar as it is conditioned by the body, the action-oriented texts have indeed, established the performance of actions appropriate to that (body). For reliance on the error of taking the soul to be the same as the body does not promote texts dealing with the other world. Therefore, we find nothing at like the Paramahamsa state followed by you, which permits completely unrestrained activity. (94–97, Tr., Olivelle, 1987: 126–127) According to Desika, when a Brahmin is without emblems, and when he is not part of varnasrama, his body becomes incorporeal. When the Brahmin becomes incorporeal, there is no action, no karma, no ritual, no sense of touch. Similar to the corpse he has only un-touch sense. This contradiction between Advaita and Visistadvaita is not merely related to emblems or signs. I wish to read these controversies as an attempt to recover the source, the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, through an act of translation. Desika is against the incorporeality of the Brahmin’s body and brings back the Brahmin’s body with its essential signifiers. Did the Ramanuja tradition take back the idea of Brahmin to pre-Sankara? I would like to put forth the thesis that

Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin 105 the Ramanuja tradition attempted to recover the original meaning of the idea of Brahmin by refusing to accept the definition of Sankara. But in the act of translation, since the signified cannot be accessed without a signifier, the signified can be recovered only by redefining the signifier. It is the signifier that establishes the signified as ‘source’. Without recovering the notion of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, the householder Brahmins as a community cannot have meaningful existence as Brahmins. The act of translation primarily aims at recovering the original. Hence, even in the Visistadvaita tradition, though the Brahmin is brought back to varnasrama, the Brahmin community becomes a signifier only by recovering the source, that is, the signified, the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. As a result, when the ‘ideal’ Brahmin is recovered, the essential quality of the source, the touch-un-ability, becomes the basis of something called Brahmin-ness or a Brahmin subject. The householder-ascetic contradiction which troubled Brahmanism for long centuries, I think, is finally resolved. The body with touch-un-ability has become an ‘ideal’ for the Brahmin community. But this has to be written to get a permanent form. The difference between speech and writing, as noted by Sarukkai, is significant. He writes, ‘speech is temporary, transitory and evanescent. Writing is permanent; it embodies the idea of “hereditary” ’ (Sarukkai, 2014: 198). The writing that is permanent is nothing but the creation of the object for un-touch sense and making the un-touch sense corporeal. To make the un-touch sense permanent, an object for this sense must also be permanently available. The householder Brahmin’s body becomes an object for the un-touch sense of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. As we saw before, in the act of touch, there is no subject-object binary. The toucher and the touched form a unified whole, like a hand of a body touching another hand of the same body which composes the whole. The ‘ideal’ Brahmin who closes his skin, negates the very sense of touch and acquires un-touch sense. To make this un-touch sense corporeal, corresponding objects must be created permanently. The householder Brahmin body becomes the permanent object for the un-touch sense of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. That is, a householder Brahmin self-defines as an object for the ‘ideal’ Brahmin’s un-touch sense. That is why even the Brahmin householder cannot touch the Brahmin renouncer. Unless corresponding objects for un-touch sense were created within the community, the ‘ideal’ Brahmin with touch-un-ability could not evolve as a ‘source’. To put it another way, the householder Brahmins signify the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. That is, in the words of Sarukkai, the householder Brahmin becomes ‘pure’ untouchable. The householder Brahmin brings to presence the ‘ideal’ Brahmin being an object. The Brahmin becomes a subject only by appropriating the essential quality of the original – the touch-un-ability. The householder Brahmin can self-define as Brahmin only when he acquires the touch-un-ability of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. A householder Brahmin being an object of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin’s un-touch sense, can become an autonomous subject only by acquiring the essential quality of the source. Once this essential quality of

106  Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin the source is acquired, it needs to create corresponding objects. We saw that all the criticisms against the Brahmins are that they claim the status of a renouncer, living a life of a householder. As a result of this, a Brahmin becomes simultaneously an object for un-touch sense and also a subject with un-touch sense. Without acquiring this un-touch sense, the Brahmins cannot be Brahmins. Without outsourcing the state of being an object for un-touch sense, a Brahmin cannot be an autonomous subject. The irony is that in the process of recovering the source, the essential quality of the source, the touch-un-ability of the subjects becomes untranslatable both linguistically and socially. In other words, the subject-centric nature of touch-un-ability remains untranslatable. This issue of untranslatability of the subject-centric nature of touch-unability gets manifested in the dispute between Advaitians and Visistadvaitas. The fundamental difference between the Advaita and Visistadvaita traditions narrows down to defining what it is to be a ‘true’ Brahmin: inside or outside varnasrama; with external emblems or not. The touchun-ability of the subject did not form part of the dispute. Olivelle says that, by 12th century CE, the Advaitians had developed a hierarchy among Paramahamsas that made it possible for most Paramahamsa renouncers to live broadly within the asrama dharma. The Visistadvaitas had appropriated the essence of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. The inside and outside had merged into a single whole. At the same time, the objects for a sense of touch had to be transfigured as objects for un-touch sense. The text by Desika brings out this brilliantly. The charge against the Visistadvaits was that they purify the ‘lowest of the outcaste’. This charge is refuted by Desika in his book Alepakamatabhangavada. Desika replies to the opponent, who is an Advaitian. [Opponent] Surely, you people purify even the lowest born man, calling them the devotees of the Lord. You too are thus bent on the destruction of established rules of conduct. Hence this is a feature common to us all. So what makes you different from us? (396, Tr. Olivelle, 1987: 156) Desika after elaborating this response to the charge, concludes thus: But we do not actually deny as you do the very distinction among castes and so forth. Such a denial would cause the destruction of the established rules of conduct. It cannot be said that, since we avoid certain types of relationships with them in accordance with their caste and the like, we should also show marks of disrespect to them, even though they are devotees of the Lord. True, as required by time, we avoid contact with them, just as we do in the case of our own mother who shares female quality. If we are to remain faithful to the scriptures, however, it does not follow that we should show marks of disrespect to them or to her, because they are eminently qualified to receive mental and verbal

Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin 107 expressions of esteem, as ascertained by hundreds of passages in the Puranas and itihasas, and statements of the Lord. Now, the Lord has said: ‘Let wise men not treat with contempt my devotees, even though they may equal to Sudras’. (402–404, Tr., Olivelle, 1987: 157) The opponent in this dialogue charges Visistadvaitas stating that the people who are to be located outside, are incorporated into the established order. Desika’s response is that the people are not actually outside the established order, but the essential part of it. ‘Our own mother who shares female quality’ is not outside the given order (menstruating women are on liminal state – neither inside or outside). Desika treats Candalas as his own mother, but at the same time states to ‘avoid certain types of relationships with them in accordance with their caste and the like, we should also show marks of disrespect to them, even though they are devotees of the Lord’. Here, incorporation and differentiation operate simultaneously. I prefer to read Desika’s position as converting the objects for a sense of touch, but untouched to objects for un-touch sense. This cannot be achieved without bringing the lowest of the outcaste into the given order. Caste order has an inherent tension of recovering the ‘source’, the notion of an ‘ideal Brahmin’ and creating objects for un-touch sense, empirical untouchability. If in the varna scheme the main axis is Brahmins and Sudras, in the asrama system it is a householder and renouncer, and in the caste order the axis is ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the untouchable. Caste order is not the by-product of the varna scheme or notions of purity-pollution. This is an altogether different order. I wish to argue in the next chapter that the jati, whether it is a Brahmin jati or non-Brahmin jati or Dalit jati, locates itself in between the notion of ‘ideal’ Brahmin and empirical untouchability. The reform movements in the medieval period and the non-Brahmin/Dalit movements in the modern period are oriented along a Brahmin-untouchable axis. The categorical anxieties of purity-pollution, the pre-existing means of safeguarding the boundary of the body, and the relationship between the groups are all reconfigured through the prism of untouchability.2 The varna order created people who are untouched (outside), and the caste order creates untouchables (inside). The empirical untouchables need not be limited to the set of people who self-define as Dalits. If the objects for un-touch sense are not part of the given order, the notion of the ‘ideal Brahmin’ cannot exist, the Brahmin community cannot exist, and Brahmins cannot exist as Brahmins. In short, we can say that without untouchables and Brahmins, the caste order cannot sustain itself. Similarly, without the notion of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin and empirical untouchability, the jatis as discrete units cannot sustain themselves. In short, we can say that in the jati subject, the very enterprise of self-making is predicated on a subject-oriented limit set by touch-un-ability with no definitive prescription of who would provide the empirical substantiation.

108  Touch-un-ability and ‘ideal’ Brahmin

Notes 1 For a detailed reading of suicide and the renouncer’s ritual death see ‘Ritual Suicide and the Rite of Renunciation’ (Olivelle, 2011 b: 207–230). 2 See ‘So, Who is Practicing Untouchability in India?’ by Amit Thorat and Omkar Joshi based on the‘India Human Development Survey 2012’. The study says 30% among Hindus practice untouchability. Among Hindus, 52% Brahmins, 57% Forward + OBC, 37% SC + ST, and 13% others practice untouchability. Futher, the authors say, ‘the larger the size of a household’s network outside its own community, the lower the chances of the household practicing untouchability. Conversely, the higher the spread of the in-community network, the higher the chances of someone in the household practicing untouchability’.

5 Translating touch-un-ability

D.R. Nagaraj (2011) in his seminal essay ‘Self-respect vs Self-purification: On the Roots of the Dalit Movement’ locates Ambedkar in the self-respect mode and Gandhi in self-purification mode and convincingly argues how the Harijans are transformed as objects for the yajna of self-purification. I would like to approach the self-respect mode as the act of translating the notional Brahmin, that is, recovering the original and the refusal to be an object for either the touch or un-touch sense of the subject. I would also like to state that through the continuous act of translating the notional Brahmin, something called Brahmin becomes an original or the source that can be truthfully recovered. As an extension of this position, I would like to define self-purification as an act of identifying the un-touch sense of the subject and as an attempt to overcome this inability of the subject. What is the nature of the relationship between these two modes? Are they two different watertight compartments? The irony is one necessitates the other continuously. In the self-respect mode, the refusal to be an object for either the touch sense or un-touch sense and the claim to be an autonomous subject becomes possible only by appropriating the un-touch of the original. Similarly, in the self-purification mode, when the subject attempts to liberate himself from the inability, the objects for un-touch sense are transformed into objects for touch sense. My arguments are based on the idea that the notional Brahmin becomes a source that can be recovered, and hence translatable, and empirical untouchability becomes problematic and that the subject-centred touchun-ability would not be translated. If we can generalise, I could say that as such no social movement is possible in the self-purification framework, owing to the ambiguity in translating the touch-un-ability of the subject. At most, self-purification can be an act of an individual and can give meaning only to that individual. I suspect even Gandhi would not evolve a meaningful social form for self-purification framework. The limitations of Gandhi are more or less similar to the limitations of Ramanuja and Basavanna of the medieval period. Keeping these aspects in view, I wish to look into the self-respect mode and self-­purification mode through the philosophy of translation: translating the notional Brahmin and the touch-un-ability of the subject.

110  Translating touch-un-ability Before we go into this, we will briefly look into the historical role of mutts as the site of translating the notional Brahmin, recovering the original. The formation of mutts played a vital part in establishing the boundaries of the sects and/or jatis. We know that in Brahmanism there are no monastic institutions before Sankara. We also know that since Brahmanism is centred around the householder (Brahmin-male), it did not evolve the rites of renunciation till the medieval period. As Michael Blake states, ‘only Sankara’s eventual establishment of a monastic “order”, which itself may owe its impetus to the Buddhist model, represents mature Hindu monasticism. Prior to his reforms, the more common Hindu pattern was one of individual asceticism or anchoritism in the parivrajaka tradition’ (1990: 406). But what happens when asceticism becomes a parallel social organisation? Asceticism as an individual practice gets modified to some extent when it brings together more individuals than one. Two or three ascetics living together or moving together demonstrate that the ascetic ideal of a complete withdrawal is already partially defeated. They begin to find some kind of habitation necessary. This habitation forms a monastic centre. There emerge rules to regulate life at the centre. Monastic life leads to the endeavour of creating social organisation peculiarly fitted for the ascetic life. Thus, asceticism leading in its growth to monastic life creates the paradoxical phenomenon of social organisation for those who not only negatived but also renounced social connections and individual wants. (Ghurye, 1953, in A.M. Shah, 2006: 223) The framework of monastic institutions in Brahmanism is nothing but, as Dazey points out, ‘transformation of the old Brahmanic gotra (“clan”) social structure and the Brahmanic hereditary householder lineages into the organising principle of a network of ascetic, celibate, teacher-disciple lineages’ (1990: 309). We can see that every instance of the formation of a particular mutt in the medieval period creates a particular sect and sustains itself through well-defined symbols and way of life. The formation of mutts is one of the fundamental means of translating the idea of Brahmin. What is the driving force behind this extraordinary phenomena? Every individual reformer in the medieval period tried to recover the original meaning of the source. Though they acted as translators, when the translation gets completed, the translator becomes the author. In other words, the translation achieves independent existence. This is something similar to what we saw in the earlier period. The Jains and Buddhists refused to accept the claim that the householder Brahmin has an inherent ascetic quality. When the Jains and Buddhists say that the householder Brahmin does not have inherent ascetic quality, they are trying to recover the original meaning of the ascetic, because the present meaning of the ascetic has been corrupted by the householder Brahmin. Heesterman

Translating touch-un-ability 111 (1985: 42) based on two stories found in the Uttarajjhaya, a Jain canon, notes that the Jain monks want the Brahmins to perform the sacrifice as an ascetic and not as a householder. He further states that the [Jain] monk does not condemn the institution of sacrifice as such; on the contrary, he exhorts the Brahmins to perform the true sacrifice – that is, the renunciatory way of life of the monk – and he declares that the true Brahmin is the monk. The Jain monk tries to recover the original meaning of true Brahmin. The true Brahmin is an ascetic. Heesterman also quotes from the Buddhist Kutadanta Sutta (Digha Nikaya 5) which hierarchises the sacrifice and defines the life of a monk as the highest sacrifice. In the Dharmaranya Purana, we saw that the Buddhist/ Jain monks raised similar objections to King Aama regarding the claims of the householder Brahmins. According to the Jain monks, in the Purana, the Brahmins claim the status of a renouncer (inherent spiritual quality) being a householder (Sudra). We can interpret the Buddhist and Jain positions as an act of recovering the original meaning of the true Brahmin. A thing becomes a source if it can to be translated. And only through the continuous act of translation, the source or original is recreated. We can see similar attempts of translations even in the Brahmanical Dharma literature. Manu (4.7) gives a hierarchy of Brahmins according to the stores of grains they possess. The true Brahmin does not possess anything for the next day. As we saw in the earlier chapters, the tension within Brahmanism is how to recover the idea of Brahmin: as a householder or as an ascetic? Brahmanism would not do away with the householder framework or shift the householder status to a secondary position. We saw that the city-centric experience of the Brahmins compelled them to redefine what it is to be a true Brahmin. A Brahmin can be a true Brahmin only when he is above complementarity and exchange, pure and impure, householder and ascetic. Only on this basis, as Heesterman (1985: 44) writes, a Brahmin ‘can dispense religious merit by accepting food and presents without staking his purity’. But as a priest (householder) he cannot claim this independence. He can claim his independence only by being a renouncer. ‘Thus the preeminence of the Brahmin’ as Heesterman says, ‘is not based on his priesthood, but on his being the exponent of the values of renunciation’ (ibid.). The Brahmin as a ritual specialist identifies himself as a true renouncer, though in fact, he is a householder. Heesterman summarises thus: This does not mean, of course, that the actual Brahmin is necessarily a renouncer; usually, he is not. But it is the ideal image of the Brahmin that is the mainspring of Brahmanical prestige. Brahminisation . . . is therefore not simply the imitation of the local Brahmin [empirical Brahmin/householder/Brahmin jatis]; it refers to the ideal Brahmin [true

112  Translating touch-un-ability Brahmin, the renouncer]. The non-Brahmin is thus enabled to ‘outBrahmin’ the Brahmin. To a great extent, this may be the ideological background of ‘anti-Brahmanical movements, past as well the present’. (ibid.: 214, n100) This reading of Heesterman is important. In other words, the idea of true Brahmin becomes a source or original that can be translated. The mutts and sects that were formed in the medieval period by the non-Brahmins and Dalits are not a mere imitation or complete negation of the Brahmanical worldview but attempts to recover the true meaning of the source, to become a source or original. They are very much part of the larger Brahmanical framework. A contemporary struggle can be given as an example, to understand this phenomenon. A Brahmin family in Trichy, Tamil Nadu, started a small restaurant calling it ‘Brahmana Cafe’ in 2016.1 The breakaway group from the parent organisation, Dravida Kazhagam, called Periyar Dravida Kazhagam, demonstrated before the restaurant asking the Brahmin owners to change the name of the restaurant. They found objection in the name ‘Brahmana Cafe’. But they are willing to accept the jati names like ‘Iyer Cafe’ or ‘Iyengar Cafe’. The interesting point is that there are many trading establishments in Tamil Nadu with jati names. For example, we have had names like ‘Naidu Hall’ or ‘Iyengar Bakery’ for many years. The protesters are ready to accept jati names. But they are against the name ‘Brahmana’. What do we make of this? They are not against the empirical Brahmins (jatis like Iyer or Iyengar) but against the idea of Brahmin. In short, they are not against jatis, but they are against the idea of Brahmin. The irony is that the Dravidian movement in Tamil Nadu is premised on the annihilation of jatis. But in fact, they are not against empirical jatis. That is why the protesters see in the name ‘Brahmana Cafe’ something related to the idea of Brahmin and not the empirical Brahmin. If they are against the Iyer or Iyengar jati names, then the very social coherence of discrete jatis would be destroyed. The entire narrative of the non- or anti-Brahmin movements, right from the Buddha to modern times, was against the idea of Brahmin, though the substance of the idea of Brahmin has changed with time. In the medieval period, the formation of mutts and sects are but the act of translating, recovering the true meaning of the source. That is why I think that in spite of extraordinarily rich and varied non- or anti-Brahmin articulations, not only in the ancient and medieval period, but also in our times, we cannot find any incident of physical violence against empirical Brahmins, either as jatis or as individuals. We can ask a question from another angle: why are these reform/revolt movements not against the empirical Brahmins? The very process of the self-making of the jati subject is premised on recovering the true meaning of the original, the idea of Brahmin. The jatis cannot sustain themselves without referring to this source or original. It is because of this, the empirical Brahmins, that discrete jatis become the essential component of the caste order. In other

Translating touch-un-ability 113 words, a bad translation becomes a prerequisite to attempt a fresh and new translation. At the same time the source, the idea of Brahmin, through continuous translation is continuously recreated and made alive. Revolting against the empirical Brahmins from the jati perspective is nothing but self-destruction of the jati subject. The continuous act of translating the notional Brahmin sustains not only the Brahmin jatis but also the nonBrahmin and Dalit jatis. In other words, the medieval reform movements, or as it is called the Bhakti movement, attempted to recover the original meaning of the source, the notional Brahmin, in varying degrees. We have multiple translations. The articulations of the reform movements were not only localised but also took different forms at different times among different sets of people. Ultimately, the aim is to recover the ‘original’. In the process of translating the notional Brahmin (with its local variants), they inherit the touch-un-ability of the ‘ideal Brahmin’. All the reformers, including the non-Brahmin and Dalit reformers, evolved and sustained within the Brahmanical framework. When we say Brahmanical framework, it not only includes the empirical Brahmin jatis, but also the non-Brahmin jatis and Dalit jatis. That is why we need to say, that these reformers are not against the Brahmanical worldview, not against the empirical Brahmins jatis but against the positioning of the empirical Brahmins as an ‘ideal’. We can say all jatis, including the Brahmin jatis, self-define in relation to the notional Brahmin. In other words, we can say that every reformer attempted different translations to recover the true meaning of the ‘source’. The translation gets completed when they recover the surplus of the ­‘original’. But the movement built around a reformer can become an independent ‘source’ and sustains itself as a coherent group only by inheriting the touch-un-ability of the source. This phenomenon can be observed, for example, in the reform traditions of Brahmins (Ramanuja/Vaishnava sect), non-­Brahmins (Basavanna/Virasaiva sect), and Dalits (Kabir/Kabir panth). Every sect that got institutionalised around a renouncer or yogi or guru is but a variant of the ‘source’. The most interesting phenomena is that though the reform traditions of non-Brahmins and Dalits attempted to reject the idea of Brahmin as manifested by the empirical Brahmins, in the process of consolidating themselves as a coherent social unit, has to appropriate the every idea they are against. Otherwise, they cannot evolve and sustain as an independent original. In summary, we can say that mutts are formed questioning the rationale built around the notional Brahmin, and their consolidation is made possible only by acquiring the touch-un-ability of the source. The creation of mutts and sects do nothing but challenge a particular translation of the original and at the same time claim that they have translated the ‘source’ more truthfully without any addition or deletion. We can generalise and say that in the jatis lifeworld, the notional Brahmin and empirical untouchables are very much essential. Jatis as discrete units inherit one essential quality of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. The essential quality of

114  Translating touch-un-ability the ‘ideal’ Brahmin is touch-un-ability. In this theoretical framework, there is no difference between the discrete jatis, be they Brahmins, non-Brahmins, or Dalit jatis. Though the struggle against the notional Brahmin and the forms of touch-un-ability practised by different sects and jatis may be determined by socio-economic parameters, strictly theoretically speaking, there is no variation in the fundamental framework among the jatis. I wish to see the formation of mutts and sects (in particular of non-Brahmins and Dalits), in a larger context, as part of the self-respect movement. The inherent limitation of the self-respect movement is that it does not address the touch-un-ability of the subject. The inherent limitation of self-purification is that it translates the issue of touch-un-ability of the subject as object-centred and would not translate it socially as subject-centred. This ambiguity in the translation is the fundamental problem of the self-purification mode. That is, the very practice of untouchability would not be translated as subject-centred, either linguistically or socially. At the same time, every movement that refused to be objects for the un-touch sense produces sovereign subjects only by inheriting the un-touch sense and creating corresponding objects for this sense.

Mutts: recovering the original All the sectarian worldviews after Sankara, one way or other, confronted Sankara’s formulation of ‘ideal’ Brahmin. The notion of ‘ideal Brahmin’ and its associated theological and philosophical positions are revisited again and again in different and varied formulations. A.M. Shah in his very important essay ‘Sects and Hindu Social Structure’ (2006: 216) argues that sects are usually differentiated on the basis of their philosophical and theological positions, particularly regarding the nature of brahman (universal soul) and its relation with atman (individual soul), such as dvaita (dualism), advaita (non-dualism, monism), vishistadvaita (qualified monism) and suddhaadvita (pure monism). He elaborates thus: It is noteworthy that many of the debates that led to the establishment of sects were concerned with the opposition, such those of dvaita and advaita, Shiva and Vishnu, male and female, renouncer and householder, Brahman and Non-Brahman, vertical and horizontal marks, linear and circular marks, and so on. There were a continuous play, I may say so, of oppositions: rejecting an existing opposition and postulating a new one, reversing it, adding a middle term, and so on. A new sect would reject at least some of the existing oppositions and postulates new ones. (ibid.: 237) Though these arguments are important in their own right, my question is why should these different philosophical and theological schools have

Translating touch-un-ability 115 different jatis? Like we have many philosophical schools in India, the sects would have been different theological schools and by themselves could have been coherent groups. My interpretation is that these theological positions are premised on becoming an original. Shah’s arguments give us the possibility to extend our reading. For example, the Advaita and Vishistadvaita defined the role of the renouncers differently. Vishistadvaita refused the arguments of Advaita. Every sect’s worldview is nothing but the act of becoming the ‘source’ or recovering the original meaning by rejecting the existing translation as a bad one. Shah very correctly states that ‘the population of every castes are divided into more than one sect and into non-sectarian and the members of every sect are divided among more than one caste’ (ibid.: 229). Sects and jatis operate on different planes, though they are closely interconnected. For example, the Shri Vaishnava worldview has different sects and jatis including Dalit jatis. The Shri Vaishnava sect has both ascetic and householder gurus, and its Dasayya sub-sect includes householder mendicants belonging to the non-Brahman touchables as well as untouchables (Parathasarthy, 1970 in ibid.: 244). Shah discusses Dumont and Pocock on the relationship between sects and jatis (ibid.: 234). Dumont (1960: 37) states that ‘a sect cannot survive on Indian soil if it denies caste’ and Pocock (1973: 151) says ‘the sect which opposes caste regulations becomes, finally a caste’. Correlating these observations with what we saw in previous chapters, I wish to restate the readings of Pocock and Dumont: sects or jatis cannot survive in the Indian soil if they deny or revolt against untouchability. That is, sects incorporate (translating the idea of Brahmin) and jatis differentiate (the practice of untouchability). Both incorporation and differentiation are parts of a single whole. Only by appropriating the essential quality of the ‘source’ do the sects attain the status of a ‘source’. We will see more on the issues associated with translating the subjectcentric nature of untouchability in the next sections and continue for the present with the mutts. The creative energy unleashed in the formation of sects is by itself an interesting phenomenon. G.N. Devy, in his book Of Many Heros: An Indian Essay in Literary Historiography (2014: 54–55), writes that ‘the formation of sects became the historiographical strategy’ and ‘sects have helped the Indian masses in seeking legitimation of diverse forms of “knowledge” and life experience through collective dissension’. In other words, the sect becomes an ‘author’ through the act of translation. This is an extraordinary process. It gave ‘literary dignity to the languages they used in day-to-day life’ (ibid.: 56). Devy writes about the connection between sect formation and the development of languages. Every new language that emerges as a literary language in India revolves around one or more prominent sects. Thus, the modern Kannada language came into being together with the Virashaiva Lingayata sect; the modern Punjabi originated with Nanak’s Sikh panth; modern Hindi

116  Translating touch-un-ability emerged along with Kabir’s sect known as the Kabirpanth. Modern Marathi dates back to the period of the emergence of the Mahanubhava and Varakari sects. (ibid.) This would not have been possible without a sect establishing itself as an ‘author’. That is a sect becomes a subject in its own right. In this context, we can raise a question: how is it that we have different jatis in one sect or a jati has members belonging to different sects? Devy argues thus: The procedure of sect-formation involves a self-limiting act, for though sects are formed in order to raise new questions, they are not formed around these questions but rather some totems that symbolise these questions: Totem involves rules of exclusion and inclusion. (ibid.: 56) For example, ‘Jnanadeva’, as Devy points out, ‘raised several radical questions for Indian society. But this text was adopted by the Warakari sect as the most sacred totem, and after that, his text ceased to appeal to the rational side of the Warakaris’ (ibid.: 56–57). This I call a completion of the translation process. Once the translation process is complete, that is, when a sect gets its coherent form and institutionalises itself, or in other words, it has established itself as ‘source’, it can exist socially only in appropriating the touch-un-ability of the ‘source’. That is nothing but a self-limiting act. Further, a sect cannot be autonomous if it does not create corresponding objects for its un-touch sense. That is, a sect cannot make objects for untouch sense from different sects. The sects become a body of autonomous subjects only by creating corresponding objects for an un-touch sense of the subject, within the sect. As we argued before, the objects for touch-un-­ ability of the subject cannot be located outside the boundary. That is, each sect must have objects for the subject’s un-touch sense within the boundary of the sects. In summary, we can say, a sect becomes a source only by creating objects for its touch-un-ability. A sect gets its social meaning and legitimacy only through the objects for its un-touch sense. Michael Blake (1990: 407) writes that Sankara’s reformulation of ascetical tendency into a monastic institution was attended by his seminal reformulation of Hindu thinking about the relation of the phenomenal world and a reality which transcended phenomenal limitations. His famous radical devaluation of empiric existence and affirmation of an unconditioned non-empiric reality was ready-made for an ascetical revival. As we saw before, Sankara located the notion of ‘ideal’ Brahmin outside varnasramadharma and corporeal existence. As Dazey (1990: 308–309) points out,

Translating touch-un-ability 117 Sankara’s philosophical and religious message is not a reformulation of the Buddhist dharma, but a redefinition of Brahmanic orthodoxy in terms of jnana (‘knowledge’) rather than karma (‘action’),2 Sankara’s monastic organisation is not an imitation of the Buddhist sangha but a transformation of the old Brahmanic gotra (‘clan’) social structure and the Brahmanic hereditary householder lineages into the organising principle of a network of ascetic, celibate, teacher-disciple lineages. The mutts became parallel power centres based on ‘a network of lineages interconnected by fictive kinship ties’ (ibid.: 309). Though Sankara is credited with establishments of mutts at Varanasi, Kashmir, Badri, Puri, Dvaraka, Sringeri, and Kanchi, Champakalakshmi raises an important question: Did Sankara himself institute Vedantic mathas as organised institutions for the Sannyasins of his school? Or were they established in the late medieval period, that is from the fourteenth century, and then ascribed to Sankara? This uncertainty arises from the fact that there is no authentic record or traditions, either of Sankara or his mathas till the fourteenth century. (2009: 72) Apart from the question of whether Sankara himself established these mutts or not, the readings of Karashima regarding the mutts is very important. He says, the activities of mathas (monasteries) which played an important role in the development and spread of new religious ideas, are recorded in inscriptions from the ninth century onwards and can provide some useful information on the religious movements that occurred during the twelfth and thirteen centuries. (2014: 183) The number of mutts that came into existence in Tamil region from 950 to 1600 CE, as per Karashima (see Table 5.1), raises the important question of why there were so many mutts in the Tamil region. Another important fact that Karashima notes is that if we do a check on persons who established a matha or granted a mathapuram, we find a change of communities/class between eleventh and twelfth centuries. While Brahmanas were dominant among the founders and supporters of mathas in the earlier period up to the eleventh century, non-Brahmana communities, including Vellalas and various communities of merchants and artisans, were conspicuous in and after the twelfth century. (2014: 184)

118  Translating touch-un-ability Table 5.1  Chronological distribution of Matha inscriptions in Tamil region from 900 to 1750 CE Period

Number

–950 –1000 –1050 –1100 –1150 –1200 –1250 –1300 –1350 –1400 –1450 –1500 –1550 –1600 –1650 –1700 –1750 Total

5 9 23 12 58 29 145 79 7 9 8 22 27 12 2 1 1 469

Source: Karashima, Subbarayalu and Shanmugam (2011: 206). Also see Karashima (2014: 184).

The question is, how can we explain this extraordinary phenomenon of mutt formations in the 12th through the 13th centuries? Also, what do we make out of the contribution of non-Brahmins in establishing the mutts? Champakalakshmi observes that ‘the proliferation of mathas coincided with this period [12th century] when members of the Vellala community questioned brahmana exclusivism in the religious and economic spheres’ and ‘the Tamil mathas were institutions which, as pointed out by most scholars, arose mainly from the opposition of the bhakti saints to brahmana exclusivism and their social order of caste hierarchy and inequalities’ (2011: 299). The social power of the dominant social groups is acquired through the institutionalisation of the sects, that is the formation of mutts. We will seek some historical support to establish our reading that the conceptual framework for the creation of jatis are post-Sankara. Subbrayalu, through his indepth study of Tamil epigraphy, says, ‘ “caste” is met with as a rudimentary social feature of the Tamil society even in the ninth and tenth centuries. A sort of stratification had taken form by the beginning of the eleventh century’ (2012: 170). He also states that inscriptions of Rajaraja-I (985 to 1016 CE) dated 1014 CE ‘supply us information relating to the separate quarters, respectively, for landholders (ur-irukkai), artisans (kammana Cheri), and the praiya (parai-cheri)’ and concludes that ‘castes lower in hierarchy than the Brahmans are also referred to in the same records, but in very

Translating touch-un-ability 119 general frame. This hierarchy became elaborated during the course of next two centuries’ (ibid.). Karashima too says that ‘jatis were still in their formative stage in the thirteenth-century Tamil country’ (2009: 269). In his other essay, ‘The Untouchables in Tamil Inscriptions and Other Historical Sources in Tamilnadu’ (1997), Karashima notes that in Tamil inscriptions the words tinda-cheri were first found around the 10th century CE. He discusses an inscription that includes details of about 40 villages. Out of those 40 villages, the number of villages [in Chola-mandalam] concerning which we are able to acquire sufficient information is 33, owing to damage to the stones, and there is a reference to parai-cheri in some 20 villages out of those 33. This means, therefore, that not all the villages have parai-cheri within their bounds. However, the reference to parai-cheri in the royal order and its appearing in more than half of the granted villages may suggest a fair prevalence of parai-cheri in Chola-mandalam. On the contrary, reference is not made to tinda-cheri in the royal order, and moreover, even in the individual description of the granted villages, reference is made to it only in two out of the 33 villages which otherwise afford us ample information. The existence of tinda-cheri, therefore, does not seem to have been so common. (1997: 22) Another important point Karashima brings out is the difference between the parai-cheri and tinda-cheri. He says, If tinda-cheri and parai-cheri were not found together in one and the same village, we might presume that they are substantially the same and the difference was only in name and usage. Actually, however, there existed parai-cheri in one of the two villages which had tinda-cheri. This suggests that they are different in substance too, though we do not know which particular community(ies) lived in tinda-cheri. (ibid.) Karashima translates tinda-cheri as the residential area of the untouchables. But, based on our previous chapters we can also translate tinda-cheri as an ‘untouched’ colony. The Tamil word tinda has this ambiguity. That is, the word tinda in the inscriptions can also be read as people who are untouched – outside or by-product of the given order; whereas the untouchables, objects for un-touch sense are part of the given order. They cannot be outside of it. Karashima quotes another inscription of 1028 CE (of Rajendra-I). ‘In this inscription of a Brahmin settlement (chaturvedimangalam), it was decided that all of the local cultivators (parai-cheyvar), excepting the tindadar or untouchables, should contribute some compulsory labour annually for the desilting of the village tank’ (ibid.). If we take the position that untouched people are outside the given order (like Candalas), and

120  Translating touch-un-ability untouchables are part of it, then we can deduce that in the inscription of Rajaraja-I and Rajendra-I, the tindadar may mean the colony of untouched people rather than untouchables. In Rajendra-I’s inscriptions, we get the meaning very clearly: since tindadar is outside the system, they are not to be involved in the activity of the system. The discrete experiences of the jatis are configured as a single whole in the caste order. The relationship between discrete jatis can become a whole only if the characteristic features of the discrete jatis are objectified. Empirically defining a set of people as untouchables and as Brahmins becomes the necessary component of the caste order. To understand this, we need to approach the reform traditions conceptually. The reform traditions operated at two levels: (1) they negated the theological positions constructed around the ‘ideal’ Brahmin and attempted to recover the original meaning of the ‘idea’ of Brahmin, and (2) they refused to be an object for the un-touch sense of a subject and defined themselves as sovereign subjects. The establishment of mutts by the Brahmins, non-Brahmins, and Dalits can be seen socially and theologically as an attempt to negate the prevailing idea of Brahmin. We saw that in the earlier era, Buddhism, Jainism, and the ascetic tradition in Brahmanism saw the human body as fundamentally impure. The human body is equated with a house. Liberation from both the human body and house is seen as the ultimate liberation. But the bhakti tradition saw the human body as one which embodies God. Further bhakti focuses on touch. The anxieties of pure-impure are always against contact. A.K. Ramanujan writes that ‘Nammalvar says all five senses are “the bodies of god” (1.9.9), and he strains all of them to realise God. Yet the sensory modes he favours in his poetry are the “near senses”: touch, taste, smell’ (1993: 146–147). In bhakti tradition, there are no anxieties about safeguarding the boundaries of the body. The boundaries are made porous. But, when a particular sect gets institutionalised, how is the body of the Acharyas or guru or yogi conceptualised? How is it differentiated from the Brahmin sanyasi? Though bhakti tradition tried to dissolve the boundary between the ascetic and the householder, one got institutionalised only through the unification of the signifier and the signified. We need to note that the bhakti poets did not put forth two different ­bodies – householder and ascetic – as discrete entities. For example, as Vasudha Narayanan states, in Sri-Vaisnava tradition, ‘according to Lakshmi Tantra a (twelfth century?) text held to be sacred by the Sri-Vaisnava community, Prapatti [surrender] and Saranagati [taking refuge] are held to be synonymous with renunciation or samnyasa’ (1990: 163). The householder can become a sanyasi by surrendering and taking refuge in Narayana. That is why Ramanuja tradition created a different set of principles for renunciation. Ramanuja is seen as equal to a king, and, like the king, protects his subjects, Ramanuja protects any person who has surrendered and taken refuge in Vishnu. Narayanan writes that ‘despite his renunciation, Ramanuja’s ties to his community are perceived to be strong; through him, the community is said to gain salvation’ (1990: 173). The sanyasi is brought back into the

Translating touch-un-ability 121 householder society. Ramanuja recovers one mode of the idea of Brahmin. But once his tradition got institutionalised, it assimilated the essential quality of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. The Vaishnava Acharya becomes a dead being, preta. Farquhar writes that ‘Sri-Vaisnava Samnyasins are quite a distinct order from Sankara Dasanamis. Only Brahmans are admitted, and they carry a triple danda in contrast with single danda of Sankara’s Brahman Samnyasins. . . . Non-Brahmin Sri-Vaisnava is called Ekangi’ (Farquhar, 1920 in Narayanan, 1990: 174–175). We can conclude that the Ramanuja’s reform negated the Sankara’s ‘ideal Brahmin’ who is located outside the varnasramadharma and put forth an alternative thesis where the renouncer is brought back into the householder society and asramadharma. In this process of translating the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, as Shah says, all interpreters of the idea of bhakti, sectarian as well as non-sectarian, insist that an untouchable has the same freedom to follow the path of bhakti as the Brahman. Founders of sects since the time of Ramanuja have gone out of their way to stress this idea, and few sects are said to have admitted untouchables into their fold. (2006: 241) This issue is not there only in the sects formed by Brahmins but also in nonBrahmin sects. We see this phenomenon even in the Dalit sects. For example, ‘even the “subaltern” Satnami sect’, says Saurabh Dube, includes mainly the higher-status untouchable caste of Chamars (leatherworkers) and a small section of two other castes almost equal status namely, Teli (oil pressers) and Rawat (graziers) are included in the sect. Untouchable castes of Mehtar (sweeper), Ghasia (horse cleaner) and Dhobi (washerman) are excluded. (Dube, 1993: 2, 45 and 1998: 41, 43, 63, in ibid.: 235) As we saw before, a sect cannot sustain itself as a sect unless it differentiates a set of people, though the very motive of the sects is to incorporate. The mutts established by non-Brahmins, merchants, and artisan communities are not conceptually different from the Brahmin mutts. In other words, we can raise the question that Ikegame raises: we should ask why it is that backward castes feel a strong need for their spiritual leader (guru) and matha: what do they expect to achieve by establishing their own caste matha, and does this issue go beyond simply a form of reservation for ‘spiritual backwardness?’ (2010: 58) We need to note that mutts are not isolated from the larger society. A renouncer or a yogi is not totally isolated from the society. He represents

122  Translating touch-un-ability a sect or jati, or he creates a sect or jati. Like a renouncer, mutts as an institution depend on temporal power and society for their very existence. Moreover, they also get their meaning only through associating with the society. As an individual, an ascetic or a renouncer or a saint or a yogi may refuse to be part of any established institution, may refuse to compromise with the temporal power or the norms of society. But, when the same individual institutionalises himself or is institutionalised by his followers, the sect depends on the householders to be its followers and on temporal power for patronage. Lineages of the sect are created; boundaries are defined and modes of differentiation established. As Shah states, ‘a sect has a definite founder, a definite deity or set of deities, a set of definite sacred texts, a set of rituals, and a social organisation’ (2006: 218). Shah further identifies two modes through which the mutts continue to exist. It is either through guruShishya parambara (teacher-pupil tradition) or vamsa parampara (lineage tradition). Some sects follow one or other tradition exclusively, and others a combination of the two (ibid.: 244). Mutts thus become this-worldly, parallel power centres. Though we have remarkable continuity in the tradition of questioning the claims made by the empirical Brahmins, right from the period of Buddha, post-Sankara there is a fundamental difference in translating the idea of Brahmin. This difference needs to be noted to understand the jati lifeworld as a whole or the relations between the jatis as discrete units. The most important difference is that post-Sankara, questioning the Brahmins’ claim did not happen from the perspective of renouncer; they happened from the perspective of the householder. An interesting shift, in fact, a complete reversal, can be observed when we contrast the medieval reform traditions with the poems of Therigatha and Theragatha. The poets of Theri and Theragatha disowned the householdercentred worldview. Renouncing the householder status is seen as liberation. But the bhakti tradition celebrates the householder and the human body. This shift is very important. We can say with confidence that almost all the schools of bhakti tradition celebrate the householder life, rejecting the ideals of renunciation and monastic life. But still, they get a coherent social form only by appropriating the ascetic values and monastic life. The basic position of bhakti movement, as Hawley points out is that bhakti had some slashing indictments to make when ascetics came in view – and not just because a life of principle was mocked in practice, although that was one element. Rather, the debate focused on an issue of principle: God has possessed this body, these emotions, this world, so why run away to a life of religious artifice? (1990: 460) As he further points out, the bhakti movement is something similar to the Protestant Reformation in Christianity, but with a big difference: the

Translating touch-un-ability 123 Christian Protestant Reformation movement was totally against the monastic institution and ascetic ideals. But the bhakti movement, though it disowned the ascetic life and monastic institution, ended up absorbing these. In fact, bhakti tradition contributed to these in more than one way. Though both the Protestant movement and bhakti evolved more or less around the same period, the bhakti tradition did not offer any alternative social arrangement or a worldview similar to that of the Protestant reform movement. The Protestant movement laid the foundations of the secular worldview. The bhakti movement, as Hawley points out, swept north India at about the same time that the Protestant Reformation revolutionised European society. But when one looks closely one sees that social conditions were vastly different, and even among the bhakti saints themselves, few ever contemplated such a radical reorganisation of religion and society. What seems remarkable, then, is not that the monastic institutions of medieval India failed to disappear from the scene in the wake of bhakti enthusiasm, but that the bhakti movement managed to achieve the degree of free movement between householders and renunciants that it did. (ibid.: 489) What do we make of this reading? Incorporating the ascetic way of life (whatever it may mean in the actual terms) becomes the necessary component of institutionalisation of a particular reformer’s worldview. Without this institutionalisation, a group would not evolve and sustain itself as a coherent unit. How do we make sense of the anti-Brahmanism of the reform traditions in the medieval period and latter-day non-Brahmin and Dalit movements? Are these reform movements against the caste order? If so why did each reform movement become a separate social sect with multiple jatis? Veena Das’s perception is an important one. She says, This dimension of the problem [revolt movements becoming separate sects and jatis] makes it possible to suggest that the sociologists who have seen the consistent failure of rebel sects to break the caste system, in that the sects themselves develop divisions similar to castes, have perhaps missed the essence of the heterodoxy of these sects. In attacking the position of the Brahmans, the sects were not attacking the caste system but the special position of the Brahmans as holders of inherent ritual merit within the conceptual scheme of Hinduism. (2012: 94) The act of translating the ‘ideal’ Brahmin resulted in the formation of different sects. In this act of translation, the touch-un-ability of the ‘source’ makes it possible for the translator to become an author. I would like to highlight

124  Translating touch-un-ability the inherent feature in the transformation of the translator as an author. In the reform movements, through the act of translation, the recovery of the ‘source’ became a possibility, but an essential component of the ‘source’, the touch-un-ability would not be translated. In his negotiation with the idea of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, the reformer refuses to be an object for an un-touch but becomes a subject only by acquiring the very same un-touch sense. We will look into this paradox by consolidating the reading about a few bhakti movements of both non-Brahmins and Dalits, in particular, Kabir and Basavanna. In other words, I wish to state that when we try to translate the touchun-ability of the subject into social language, it is distorted into something object-centric. That is, ‘touch’-related issues become ‘contact’-related. Even when a subject attempts to overcome his/her touch-un-ability, it acquires the form of purity-pollution. The process of translation would not sustain the subject-centric characteristic of the touch-un-ability. Hence, the subjectcentric feature of touch-un-ability becomes untranslatable. This would not be translated conceptually, though this exists in practice. That is why the ethical move against untouchability, though manifested as an individual’s moral and ethical move, becomes object-centric. The question we raised earlier, ‘why are we able to revolt against the idea of Brahmin as a group, but unable to revolt against empirical untouchability as a group?’ has to be raised again here. The revolt against untouchability as a group will annihilate the very existence of the jati subject and the very coherence of the jatis. Only by creating corresponding objects for un-touch sense can jatis sustain themselves. The formation of mutts by latter-day non-Brahmin and Dalit sects/jatis are but simultaneous revolts against the idea of the Brahmin and appropriation of the un-touch-ability of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin. That is why sects incorporate and jatis differentiate. These two processes, incorporation and differentiation, are intertwined; it is difficult to see them as separate phenomena. In short, a jati cannot remain a jati and at the same time revolt against untouchability. This is not only a logical impossibility but also a pragmatic constraint. Even in modern times, we are unable to translate the touch-un-ability of the subject into meaningful social language. We will see more on this in the language of Gandhi. I will also try to argue that the revolt against the idea of the Brahmin is from the position of being an object, that is, the refusal to be an object for un-touch sense. The subject-centric nature exhibits the impossibility of translating the touch-un-ability of the subject. Since touch-un-ability can be a corporeal reality only by creating the objects for that sense, the revolt against this un-touch sense can become a reality only by sustaining the objects as objects. Both manifestations, un-touch sense and revolt against the un-touch sense, can be objectified only by creating corresponding objects. In short, how do we address the subject-centric nature of touch-un-ability? This I wish to approach as untranslatable phenomena.

Translating touch-un-ability 125 Is the social practice of untouchability translated in any of the Indian languages? Though this question is difficult to answer with any certainty, as it demands knowledge of many Indian languages, as a hypothesis I would like to put forth that the practice of untouchability is not translated in any of the Indian languages. I will take the example of Tamil. In Tamil, till 1800 CE, there was no word for untouchability in the sense in which we use it today. The Tamil word that is used for untouchability in modern Tamil is tindamai. According to the Tamil Dictionary/Glossary on Historical Principles Project (Rajam, 2001, Vol. 3: 1080), the word tindamai was first used in Nallaira Diviyaparbantham. Thirumangai Azhwar, one of the twelve alwars of Tamil Vaishnava tradition, uses this word once (in verse 1901. See Tamil Virtual Academy site: http://www.tamilvu.org/library/l4210/html/l4210in1.htm). But the context in which this word is used does not denote untouchability as we mean it today. It denotes ‘not attacking’ or ‘not physically hurting’ (thakkaamai). Thirumangai Azhwar belongs to the 12th century CE. That does not mean that since there is no word for untouchability, there is no social practice of untouchability. It only means that the social practice is not translated linguistically. Does the word, tinda-cheri found in a circa 10th-century-CE inscription, as noted by Karashima and discussed before, denote a colony of untouchables or colony of untouched people? We saw that the word, tinda-cheri may denote a colony of untouched people and not a colony of untouchables. Similar to Tamil, in Hindi also we can see this ambiguity. Veena Das says, untouchable castes may be referred to by such names as achhuta (lit. not to be touched) in Hindi speaking areas, but here the translation of the term achhuta by the term impure is little imprecise. It is true that impurity may be referred to by the term chhuta, but this refers to the mode by which impurity may be conveyed rather than to its nature. (2012: 141) Then how do we understand the subject-centric nature of untouchability? I would like to correlate this with an inherent quality of mathematics. Sarukkai argues that the essential quality of mathematics is its untranslatability. We will try to co-relate the essential quality of the source, the ‘true’ or ‘ideal’ Brahmin with the essential quality of mathematics. Then we will explore the similarity between the untranslatability of mathematics and untranslatability of the subject-centric nature of touch-un-ability.

Untranslatability of mathematics How does an individual locate himself/herself within an enterprise called ‘Science’? In other words, how does a human self becomes a scientific self? The scientific self comes into being only when ‘doing’ science. Sundar Sarukkai, in his excellent book Translating the World: Science and Language

126  Translating touch-un-ability (2002b), handles the fundamental problem in ‘doing’ science. In the process of explaining what does ‘doing’ science means, he takes the essential characteristic of mathematical language for discussion. Problematising, the essential quality of the mathematical language, is important theoretically and Sarukkai handles this question through the philosophy of translation. He concludes that the essential quality of mathematics is its untranslatability. Without this inherent quality of mathematics, ‘science’ as an enterprise cannot become a ‘source’; sacredness cannot be built around it. Sarukkai discusses the complexity of the relationship between science, language, and translation in his book. I will try to consolidate his readings and then relate the untranslatability of mathematics with the subject-centric nature of untouchability. The relationship between the translator and the ‘original’ in the natural languages is not different from the relationship between the scientist and what is called nature. In the scientific enterprise, nature becomes the ‘original’ or ‘source’. In the pre-modern Western framework, nature is seen as the sacred words of God. The words are seen as revealed. In Western modernity, nature becomes a ‘text’ that is awaiting translation.3 To understand the nature of the relationship between the scientist and the nature we need to focus on the ethical issues of translation. If the relationship between the scientist and nature is that of a translator, then he/she ceases to be an original author. Since he/she ceases to be an original author, he/she is not morally responsible for his/her science. He/she is just a translator and is just translating what is there in the original, that is, in nature. In other words, as Sarukkai says, the scientist is just translating the essence of nature into the human language in the hope that there are no additions or deletions. A scientist does not create the essence of nature. The essence is there in the original. Hence the scientist is not morally responsible for his/her works. Whatever evil is there in science is already available in the original, and the scientist as a translator just makes this understandable to other humans. The response of scientists who were involved in the Manhattan Project is an excellent example of this attitude. As human beings, the scientists were completely devastated by the atomic bombing of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. But as scientists, they were unable to translate these horrific human pains back into the language of science. This is because of the structure of the language in which science is constructed. Science becomes absolute only through mathematical symbols. The mathematical symbols acquire life on their own and get their meaning only in the scientific system. Science as an enterprise can exist only through mathematical symbols. But these symbols, cannot translate the human experiences back into that language, as in other natural languages. In the language of science, there is no self, there is no time, and there is no space. It can talk about time, and it can talk about space, but it does not exist in any particular time or space. The auto-biographical quality does not exist in the language of mathematics. The mathematical language has a transcendental quality. Without the

Translating touch-un-ability 127 notion of self, space, and time, no human language can be alive. In this sense mathematics is a dead language. Then how is it that the language created by humans is essentially dead but physically alive? In short, I wish to state that mathematics has an element of touch-un-ability as its inherent characteristic. In other words, both mathematics and the subject-centric nature of untouchability, though they have empirical existence, are untranslatable.4 Sarukkai says that the ‘reality’ put forth in the symbolic language of mathematics has no existence outside that language. The scientific concepts become a reality only within the language of mathematics and only within the community of people who can converse in that language. The scientific equipment becomes a sort of dictionary of the mathematical language. One cannot make sense of the reality created through the scientific language in the natural languages because, the scientific reality in the mathematical language cannot be translated to any of the natural languages, as it has no existence outside its boundary. The translation project is philosophically a problematic one. Further translation works are not seen as original works. Does the translation keep the essence of the original ‘intact’? In this sense, how do we understand the scientific enterprise? Sarukkai, quoting Andrew Benjamin, discusses the relationship between the source or original and the translation. First, it involves the idea of recovery; the recovery of a meaning, or truth, and the subsequent re-expression of what has been recovered. Second, this understanding of translation also involves the idea of free exchange; of an unmediated and unrestrained economy in which signifiers are the objects of exchange. (Benjamin, 1989: 60, in Sarukkai, 2002b: 120) Further, Sarukkai writes that ‘the primary impulse to an activity we would name as ‘translation’ should respond to an already-given, to an original. The concerns with equivalence and faithfulness arise after the initial acknowledgement of the original’ (ibid.: 121–122). Without the notion of original, the translation project is not possible. But what is the relationship between the original and the translation? Does the translation faithfully restate the original without any addition or deletion? The scientific enterprise believes that science faithfully translates the original, nature. Sarukkai raises the question that if the scientist is doing just the translation of the source, why do they not apply the philosophical issues associated with the translation of natural languages to their activity? But does science see its activity as that of a translation? There is an ambiguity in this position. If the scientist sees his/her work as that of an author, then he/she is creating something new, like a novel or poem in a natural language. If the scientists see their work as original, they need to acknowledge the ethical issues associated with their activity. When it comes to ethical issues, they see their work as a translation. But if they see their work as a faithful translation,

128  Translating touch-un-ability then the complexity involved in translation must be acknowledged. How is this ambiguity overcome? When it comes to knowledge enterprise, they see their work as original. Sarukkai states that the translation involved is not acknowledged and only by not acknowledging this the claim as knowledge enterprise is established. Although there is a predominance of translation in the discourse, there is no acknowledgement of this process. This is indeed startling and suggests that science must have strategies to erase the domineering presence of translation in its activities. (ibid.: 122) That is, the act of translation involved in the discourse is completely erased. To understand ‘erasing the domineering presence of translation’ we need to go into the symbols used in the mathematical language. What do the mathematical symbols really denote? How are they evolved? Does it involve any translation of the natural language? What is the relationship between the mathematical symbols and the natural languages? Does the scientist think through mathematical symbols or think through his/her natural language and convert (translate) it to mathematical symbols? Sarukkai states, The semiotic system of mathematics does not derive any meaning without prior reference to natural languages. In reading and writing the scientific text, there is always a movement from one semiotic system to another. There is no mechanism other than a translation that can effectively explain how it is possible for us to generate “coherent” meaning of such texts. (ibid.: 123) We will look into this issue from another angle and raise the basic questions: what is a translation? Why is translation required? Why do we translate from one natural language to another? What is the need for translating the text from a language that is associated with a particular culture to another language associated with a totally different culture? Sarukkai discusses these issues using the ‘minoritizing’ thesis of Venuti. ‘Good translation is minoritizing’ says Venuti (1998), adding that ‘it releases the remainder by cultivating a heterogeneous discourse, opening up the standard dialect and literary cannons to what is foreign to themselves, to the substandard and the marginal’ (in Sarukkai, 2002b: 127). Sarukkai further explains that ‘foreign’ is not just the site of a different language. Being foreign is not merely being different. It also suggests ‘a perpetual possibility of conflict’, and ‘a distance’ that would not be assimilated completely (ibid.). That is, a natural language opens itself to something that is not part of the ‘domineering presence of the “majority” and a concomitant subjugation of the minor voices’. When a language closes itself, it loses its heterogeneity. The ‘major’ discourse

Translating touch-un-ability 129 dominates and silences the ‘minor’ voices. Heterogeneity of a language can be sustained only by opening up to something that is ‘foreign’ to it. Does the scientific discourse open itself up to something that is foreign to it? Does it have heterogeneity? As Sarukkai (ibid.: 127) says, the scientific discourse closes itself from ‘discourses of history, philosophy and sociology’. These constitute the ‘foreign’ to the scientific discourse. It also closes itself to ‘subjectivity and cultural mediation’. That is why there is no ‘I’ in the language of mathematics. The ‘I’ gets erased in the semiotic system of mathematics. Only by erasing the ‘I’ can the scientific system evolve. In a nutshell, as Sarukkai says, ‘the suspicion of science towards language [natural languages] can now be expressed as a suspicion towards the heterogeneity of language’ (ibid.) The existence of scientific language is dependent purely on its internal structure, and it cannot open itself. When it opens up, it ceases to be a scientific language and inherits the heterogeneous features of natural languages. Walter Benjamin wrote: The basic error of the translator is that he preserves the state in which his own language happens to be instead of allowing his language to be powerfully affected by the foreign tongue. . . . He must expand and deepen his language by means of the foreign language. (Benjamin, 1992: 81, in Sarukkai, 2002b: 128) How does the scientific discourse isolate itself from all the variants like culture, history, aesthetics, subjectivity, that contribute to its making and manifests itself as faithfully, and objectively explaining the nature? Only by closing itself to something that is foreign to it, science attains the status of speaking the objective truth. That is why science does not allow classifications like Islamic science, Buddhist science, Indian science, Arabic science, or Chinese science.5 Science to be science has to have homogenous character. So, scientific enterprise, to retain its hegemony and the claim of objective narrative, has to erase all its associations with and safeguard itself from the ambiguities found in the natural languages. Sarukkai argues that natural language is definitely involved in scientific discourse, but its presence is completely erased or not acknowledged. Because of the heterogeneity of the natural languages, scientific discourse sees natural language as an unreliable partner. It needs to negate all its association with the natural languages in ‘doing’ science. But this act of hiding alone does not suffice. The natural language in scientific discourse makes itself visible, in spite of all attempts to hide it. So, scientific discourse handles this issue from a different plane: it denies natural language any substantial content. Mathematics gives into a metaphysical duality: it is the symbolic word which is the mind of mathematics and the written word, both the terms of NL [natural language] and the hidden texts of calculation, the body of the discourse. In such a scenario, how can the possibility of translation come up? In invoking the name of translation, we are invoking and

130  Translating touch-un-ability creating the image of NL as the original, and the symbolic language not merely as an abridged form of it but as a translated form of it. (ibid.: 144) If the mathematical language is a translation of the natural language, then how do we lose the heterogeneity of the natural languages in the act of translation? Sarukkai states that this is achieved not only by negating any link with the natural language but also making it ‘dependent on a critique of the ambiguity and confusion inherent in natural languages’. Here, the heterogeneous feature of natural language becomes ambiguous and the scientific discourse to overcome these limitations of the natural languages erases ‘all traces of its link’ with natural language. This erasing can be achieved only in the process of writing, that is, in ‘doing’ science. The process of writing not only establishes the link between the mathematical language and the natural languages but also erases that link. Only by the act of erasing while ‘doing’ science can mathematical language close itself. Walter Benjamin’s thesis of kinship of languages and pure language can help us understand this. Benjamin raises a question about the relatedness of languages that makes translation possible. He writes that the kinship is not related to likeness. He asks, ‘Wherein resides the relatedness of two languages, apart from historical considerations?’ and states, certainly not in the similarity between the works of literature or words. Rather, all supra-historical kinship of languages rests in the intention underlying each language as a whole – an intention, however, which no single language can attain itself but which is realised only by the totality of their intentions supplementing each other: pure language. (1992: 73–74) No single natural language can claim to be a ‘pure language’ in Benjamin’s thesis because every single language has elements that are ‘foreign’ to it. But Benjamin’s thesis of pure language in the context of translation is related to natural languages. That is, it is related to the translatable quality of natural languages. Only because of the translatability of the natural languages does it acknowledge something that is ‘foreign’ to it. But, what happens when a language negates anything that is ‘foreign’ to it? It becomes untranslatable. It is in this context Sarukkai sees Benjamin’s thesis of pure language critically. Sarukkai argues that Benjamin’s thesis of pure language is not only incomplete but also ‘resonates closely with the many views of mathematical language held by both scientists and mathematicians’. But, when we speak about mathematics and science, as Sarukkai says, it is not related to translatability, but to its untranslatability. Only by being untranslatable, mathematics becomes a ‘privileged language, one that speaks the truth’. The claims of truth in mathematics, the rigour of proof and the difficulties of calculation, have all gone towards privileging mathematics as the

Translating touch-un-ability 131 language of truth. And if we look at what is at stake in the notion of truth, it is the un-translatability of it. (Sarukkai, 2002b: 145, emphasis in original) It is the inexpressibility of it in any other language; the impossibility of translating it into other languages. Thus in this context, the defining moment of mathematics, its claim to fame in contrast to other languages, is this: mathematics continuously attempts to negate translation. (ibid., emphasis in original) A human language is alive and heterogeneous if it can incorporate elements that are ‘foreign’ to it, that is, if it is translatable. The uniqueness of mathematics is that it cannot be translated. The discourse in the mathematical language evolves, grows, and dies within that language. In short, we can say that mathematical language is dead but alive. This reading has an extraordinary resemblance to the idea of the ‘ideal Brahmin’. In the Brahmanical tradition, the notion of ‘ideal Brahmin’ denotes a sanyasi who is ritually dead but physically alive. Only the dead lose the touch sense. When a human being loses his touch sense, he/she becomes a corpse. I wish to correlate these two and say that the touch sense is translatable (as we have different types of touch) and the subject’s un-touch sense is untranslatable (as we do not have different types of un-touch). With this short discussion of the untranslatable quality of mathematics, we will see how the subject-centric nature of untouchability could not be translated meaningfully either socially or linguistically.

Self-respect and self-purification I will attempt to approach both the self-respect and self-purification mode through the philosophy of translation. The self-respect mode tries to recover the source, and the self-purification mode tries to translate the touch-un-ability of the subject. To clarify, I wish to restate what was discussed in Chapter 4. The objects for touch sense and objects for un-touch sense operate on different levels. The objects of touch sense can either be touched or not touched, but they are fundamentally open to touch. The assigned value of the object determines whether it is to be touched or not. However, objects for un-touch sense become an object not from the value assigned to the object but, rather, from the self-defined position of the subject. As Sarukkai rightly points out, creating objects for un-touch sense is not limited to creating a set of people called untouchables. That is, objects for un-touch sense are, ‘potentially open to touch, but yet are objects of non-touch’ (2014: 183), because of the self-defined position of the subject. That is, the self-determined subject’s position determines whether an object is an object for un-touch sense or not. Based on this understanding we can say that the self-respect mode refuses to be an object for an un-touch

132  Translating touch-un-ability sense of the subject, and the self-purification mode tries to liberate the subject from his/her touch-un-ability. But what is happening in the process of translating the touch-un-ability either from the subject or object’s position? Something ironic is happening: the subject with touch-un-ability liberates him/herself only by transforming the objects for un-touch sense to objects for touch sense. The self-respect mode refuses to be supplemented as objects and in the process attempts to recover the original meaning of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, similar to something called nature as ‘original’ in science. We saw that there is an ambiguity in the role of a scientist: is he/she an author or translator? We can raise the same question regarding the reformer or saint or sanyasi: are they authors or translators? The ambiguity that exists in the definition of scientist exists in that of the reformer too. In refusing to be a supplemented object for the touch-un-ability and recovering the ‘original’, the reformer acts as a translator. But the reformer becomes an original, as an author, only by appropriating the touch-un-ability. Though, both the statuses of author and translator are intertwined, and one cannot be separated from the other, in the process of establishing themselves as the ‘original’, the translator’s part must necessarily be erased. Without erasing the translator’s role, the reformer cannot become an ‘original’. As in science, the ‘original’ nature is not a defined reality. As science continuously creates and recreates nature, reformers, by becoming the authors, continuously create and recreate the ‘original’. This continuous creation of the ‘original’ is possible only by erasing or unacknowledging the touch-unability of the subject. That is, the translator becomes an author only by negating any substantial content to the touch-un-ability of the ‘source’. Similar to mathematics, which hides its dependence on the natural language and tries to negate any sort of link with it, the translation of the ‘source’ by the reformers tries to negate any link with the touch-un-ability of the subject. In fact, only by ‘negating any substantial content’ to the un-touch sense can an object become an autonomous subject. Similarly in the self-purification mode, by transforming the objects for un-touch sense to touch sense, the ‘source’ is redefined, but the ‘objects’ remain ‘objects’. In short, we can say in both of these modes – the self-respect mode and self-purification mode – that the ‘source’, the idea of Brahmin, is continuously recreated, and the objects for un-touch sense are also continuously recreated. We can thus say that the notional Brahmin, an ‘ideal Brahmin’, a ‘true Brahmin’, becomes the ‘source’, and the recovering of the original meaning of ‘source’ through the act of translation becomes possible only by not acknowledging the touchun-ability of the ‘source’. With the above summary, I would like to start with Kabir. Two questions need to be addressed: (1) Did Kabir address the touch-un-ability of the subject or he spoke about the status of being an object for un-touch sense? In other words, did Kabir address the touch-un-ability of the subject he

Translating touch-un-ability 133 negated? (2) Why did the followers of Kabir create corresponding objects for their un-touch sense? Let us look into two different translations of Kabir’s poem (Shabdas: 41). The first translation is by Linda Hess and Sukhdev Singh (2015: 55) Pandit, look in your heart for knowledge. Tell me where untouchability came from, since you believe in it. Mix red juice, white juice and air – a body bakes in a body. As soon as the eight lotuses are ready, it comes into the world. Then what’s untouchable? Eighty-four hundred thousand vessels decay into dust, while the potter keeps slapping clay on the wheel, and with a touch cuts each one off. We eat by touching, we wash by touching, from a touch the world was born. So who’s untouched? asks Kabir. Only he who has no taint of Maya. Compare the above translation with the one done by the Rev. Ahmad Shah (1917: 114–115): O Pandit, see, consider in your mind. Tell me, whence did defilement spring? How came   you to discern defilement? Of the father’s seed and the blood united within the   vessel the vessel is fashioned. From the eight-leafed lotus [womb] all are born on earth.   Whence did defilement come? The eighty-four millions are many mansions: they all   decayed and turned to dust. All were set in a single line: which did you purify by   your sprinkling? Defilement you eat, defilement you drink, defilement   created the world: Kabir says, They are free from defilement, who keep   no company with Maya.

134  Translating touch-un-ability If we compare the above two translations, we can note that the first one is talking about issues related to touch and the second one is talking about issues related to defilement, that is related to notions of purity and pollutions. Defilement is always related to ‘contact’ and not ‘touch’. Can we conclude that Kabir is talking about ‘touch’? If we consider the last lines of both translations, where Kabir is talking about Maya, we can be tempted to say that Kabir is talking about incorporeality. But where does Kabir locate himself when he brings forth the touch related issues manifested the ­Pandits? Kabir is ­ n-touch sense speaking from the position of being an object to the touch or u of the Pandit. He refuses to be an object for a subject’s touch or ­un-touch sense. In other words, even if we can translate the touch-un-­ability of the subject, it can be translated only through the objects. It becomes object-­ centric. Where is the subject, who refuses to be an object, located in this poem? It is located in the position that Pandits are bad translations. ‘In north India, the literature of bhakti’, says Hawley, is full of confrontation with representatives of the monastic movement strand in Hinduism. Some of the best-hewn weapons in the arsenal of bhakti rhetoric were reserved for the individuals and groups whose social definition was achieved by means of withdrawing from society for religious reasons. (1990: 460) Hawley quotes Kabir’s poem (ibid.: 461): How will you cross, Nath, how will you cross, so full of crookedness? See how he meditates, serves and prays. Look: the white plumage, the crane’s sly ways. Mood of a snake, look: utterly lewd, utterly quarrelsome, utterly shrewd. Look: a hawk’s face, and the thoughts of a cat. Schools of philosophy like a cloak furled. Look: the witch vanity gulps down the world. In this poem, Kabir ridicules a Nath yogi of the Gorakhnath sect. Where does Kabir position himself when he ridicules the Nath yogi? Kabir says

Translating touch-un-ability 135 that Nath yogis are not true yogis. He does this because the Nath yogis are seen as author and Kabir becomes an object for their touch or un-touch sense. Kabir refuses to be an object for the touch or un-touch sense of the Nath yogis. In other words, refusing to be an object creates the possibility of becoming an author. We can see this tendency in almost every school of reform traditions. We will see one more example given by Hawley. He quotes the poem of Namdev of the 14th century (ibid.: 463): He’s shaved his head, it’s stripped and bald,   and his body’s stripped naked as well,   poor thing. He thinks he’s renouncing! This isn’t it at all:   it’s living with worldliness    and not being moved. The cat, even when it’s lost its sight,   continues to crave the invisible mouse, And the strumpet who one day becomes a queen   still remembers who she is – her former deeds. Your clothes, says Namdev, you can easily change,   but you won’t change the brazenness inside. The same question which we asked about Kabir can be asked here: where is the ‘ideal’ renouncer of Namdev located? Both Kabir and Namdev, though in different words, raise the same issue: the renouncers before them are not true renouncers. Similarly, ‘In Surdas’s hands’, Hawley (1990: 467) says, ‘Krsna’s gopis become eloquent spokeswomen for the hostility towards yogis – particularly preaching yogi’. Surdas recovers the original through the gopis. Hawley continues: ‘not only is the life of renunciation held up for ridicule, but the true renouncer on the scene turns out to be none other than those who are pointing the finger at the public renunciant’ (ibid.: 467–468, emphasis mine). By pointing the finger at the renouncer, the notion of true renouncer comes into play. The reform tradition introduces a radical framework by refusing to accept the existing renouncers as bad translations and attempts for a new translation to become authors. But the question is what alternative position did these traditions put forth rejecting renouncers for not being ‘true renouncers’? These revolt voices by refusing to accept the established renouncer traditions project the ordinary people with bhakti as the ‘true renouncers’. But in its consolidation (say becoming a sect/jati) they have no other choice but to accept the very same quality of the ‘source’ they were against. This is because they would not acknowledge the hidden quality of the source, the original meaning of the source. Hawley says, if we look not so much at the rhetoric of bhakti as at its practice – its social manifestation – we find that somehow the yogi has crept back inside the fold. Scarcely a branch of north Indian bhakti is without its

136  Translating touch-un-ability ascetic component, and where asceticism per se is lacking we are apt to find the social form that seems geared in some way to replace it. (ibid.: 473) In other words, we can say that the act of recovering or translating the ‘source’ are nothing but attempts to become a ‘source’ or ‘original’. Kabir can become a ‘source’, an author, only by becoming the ‘focus of organised Panth’ (ibid.: 474). Hawley concludes that ‘in most branches of the Kabir panth authority rests in the hands of ascetics, celibates who are organised in patterns of monastic habitation’ (ibid.), and continues, ‘it is once again a monastic regime that is primarily responsible for maintaining the coherence of the panth’ (ibid.: 476). Lorenzen concludes that ‘the monks of the Kabir panth have Hinduised and Sanskritised the Panth so that it is flatly a Vaishnava Hindu sect with caste distinctions’ (1987a, 1987b in Shah, 2006: 234–235). What does ‘Hinduised and Sanskritised’ mean? I would like to interpret it as becoming a ‘source’ because Kabir panth can become a sect only by creating corresponding objects for the un-touch sense. Like a scientist who erases the role of natural language in ‘doing’ science, the reform movement has to erase the footprints of appropriating touch-un-ability of the subject. But this erasing cannot be complete. Hawley (1990: 476), when writing about Dadu, a cotton-carder who holds Kabir and Namdev in esteem notes that ‘given such a perspective in the writings of the master [Dadu], one might expect the Panth assembled in his name to show a healthy suspicion of ascetic orders. On the contrary, however, it is once again a monastic regime that is primarily responsible for maintaining the coherence of the Panth’. So, if a tradition rationalised itself by rejecting the ideals of renunciation, how then did it consolidate itself as a coherent unit, around an ascetic or monastic institution? Hawley details some theoretical explanations for this phenomenon (ibid.: 487): ‘the harsh words directed against the ascetic practice by the great voices of the medieval bhakti were less criticisms of monasticism per se than of its potential dangers and real abuses’. This is nothing but appropriating the institution of monasticism but rejecting the existing ascetic or yogi as not a ‘true’ source around whom a particular institution has been built. The ascetic of the existing monastic institute is not the ‘true’ ascetic or renouncer. He does not represent the ‘true’ meaning of the source. In general, writes Hawley, these bhakti denunciations were directed against a specific sort of ascetic practice and the doctrines that made it seem appropriate. There can be no doubt that some of the criticisms that bhakti figures made of ascetics they knew were phrased as criticisms of the Vedantin worldview – mayavada (“illusionism”) as it was usually called – that buttressed a renunciatory approach to the world. (ibid.: 488)

Translating touch-un-ability 137 Hawley indirectly takes us to the issue of translation of the ‘ideal Brahmin’ with touch-un-ability. Hawley says, though dedicated to a demanding yogic regimen that set them apart from the commoners, the Naths were teaching, a preaching order that one often met in the streets. Some, in fact probably deflected to a householder’s life by Kabir’s time (the late fifteenth century?), but that evidently did not blunt the missionary enthusiasm of the monastic core. (ibid.: 461–62) This can be read as an act of becoming an author, by the act of translation. When Kabir rejects the Nath yogi saying that he is not a ‘true renouncer’, I believe Kabir is negating something that is present in Nath yogi. Just by negating Nath yogi, Kabir does not become a ‘source’ or an author. To become the ‘source’ or an author he needs to own the hidden component of the ‘source’. Kabir negates the untranslatable attribute of the Nath yogi. This untranslatable quality of the Nath yogi makes the yogi not true to the attributes of the source or original. This is theoretically the touch-un-ability of the subject. Though the social manifestations of untouchability are definitely dependent on other social parameters, in essence, it is not dependent on who is going to provide the empirical substantiation. Kabir refuses to be an object for Nath yogi’s un-touch sense. He revolts against that. Yet, he is not a subject. For the object of un-touch sense to become a subject, it is necessary to appropriate the hidden quality of the source. In short, in spite of its radical nature, the reform movements would not translate the essence of touch-un-ability socially as essentially part of the subject. It is an essential part of the self-making. In the process, the object of the un-touch sense refusing to be an object becomes a subject only by appropriating the essential quality of the subject, the un-touch sense, and creating corresponding objects for that sense. Appropriating touch-un-ability is unacknowledged in the process of translating the ‘source’. Only by recovering the ‘source’ do the followers of a particular reformer conceptually become a separate sect. Hawley says that ‘it is once again a monastic regime that is primarily responsible for maintaining the coherence of the [Kabir] panth’ (1990: 476). Without creating the corresponding object, the un-touch sense cannot become a corporeal reality. In this context, what Ambedkar says on notional and literal untouchability is very important. Ambedkar says that though the manifestation of the notional and literal untouchability is the same, ‘the untouchability in its notional sense persists even where untouchability in its literal sense has ceased to obtain’ and continues that ‘this is why I insist that the test of untouchability must be applied in notional sense’ (in Rodrigues, 2007: 98). Here I try to read the notional untouchability as being objects for untouch sense and literal untouchability as being objects for touch sense but untouched. The important thing is that the objects are created not from the

138  Translating touch-un-ability position or status of an object (impure, polluting) but from the essential requirements of the subject. The touch-un-ability gets its social legitimacy only when the subject becomes an author. That is, the idea of the Brahmin is recreated by many authors in many forms. We can take an example of the South Indian Saiva tradition. Wayne Edward Surdam, in his doctoral thesis ‘South Indian Saiva Rites of Initiation: The Diksavidi of Aghorasivacarya’s Kramadyotika’ (1984), makes some very interesting observations. Surdam notes that the initiation ritual or diksa defines the ascetic in this tradition. The initiation ritual signals that an individual has moved from being a householder to an ascetic. That is, ‘the diksa is the supreme separation, the cutting off the bonds and the suppression of their binding power’ and diksa is seen as ‘the unique medicine for the mind whose radiance is stifled by the great disease of maya and karma’ (1984: lxix). The text Uttarakamika details the initiation ceremony. The rite called Jatyuddhara releases a subject from social bondage and liberates him from the identity of his birth. Surdam writes that ‘this rite is a precursor to the ritual of re-birth of the disciple as the son of Siva and his attainment of the status of a Saiva-dvija, or twice-born’. The text further states that ‘even the Brahmans should be considered as sudras and therefore undergo the lifting off their quality’ (1984: ciii, emphasis mine). The empirical Brahmins become Sudras before the subject who has attained diksa. The subject who attained diksa is the true ascetic, not the empirical Brahmin. In this, we can observe two important points: (1) the subject undergoes the initiation where the status attached to the birth is cut-off, and he is reborn as the son of Siva and (2) a person who undergoes this initiation becomes a renouncer and he is above the empirical Brahmins. In this narrative, the Brahmin is just a householder and hence a Sudra. That is, the initiated Saivite becomes the true ascetic and negates the status claimed by the empirical Brahmins as true renouncers. The Brahmin becomes a Sudra before the ‘true’ ascetic, the initiated Saivite. This I wish to call as an act of recovering the ‘source’ through translation. The translation of each and every sect is always centred on the recovery of the ‘source’, the ‘ideal’ ascetic. Brahmanism does not mean only the theological, philosophical, and social articulations of the set of people who identify themselves as Brahmins. The act of translating the ‘source’ and becoming an author is very much part of the Brahmanical worldview. The alternative narratives, the acts of translation, and recovering the ‘source’ are all very much part of the Brahmanical narrative. That is why many scholars note that the reform/revolt traditions of the medieval period, though they manifested themselves as being against Brahmanism, are not in essence against Brahmanism. They, in fact, contribute to the essence of Brahmanism. Veena Das’s statement that ‘in attacking the position of Brahmans, the sects were not attacking the caste system but the special position of Brahmans as holders of inherent ritual merit within the conceptual scheme of Hinduism’ (2012: 94) can be seen as an attempt for alternative

Translating touch-un-ability 139 narratives through the act of translating the ‘source’, as a dialogue within Brahmanism. Similar to how a Brahmin householder remains a Brahmin even after renouncing all his societal ties, a person from a particular jati even after renouncing does not get liberated from the jati of his birth. Ambedkar, in his Reply to Gandhi, to Gandhi’s response to his Annihilation of Caste, argues that the reforms and saints have been ineffective for two reasons: ‘none of the saints ever attacked the caste system. On the contrary, they were staunch believers in the system of castes. Most of them lived and died as members of the caste to which they respectively belonged’ (in Rodrigues, 2007: 308). For example, writing on the social composition of Thiruvavaduthurai Adheenam, a non-Brahmin Saiva mutt, Gleen Yocum says, ‘the ascetics must come from one of the five so-called Siva castes: Pillais, Tondaimandalam Mudalaiyars, Siva Chettiyars, Karkattar Pillais and Desikars’ (1990: 269). This is nothing but jatis getting organised around an ascetic and the monastic institution and becoming an independent ‘source’. The mutts are not life-giving. They are structured around life-negating. In his reading of the non-Brahmin Saiva mutt Thiruvavaduthurai Adheenam, Yocum offers an important perception. He writes, the Mutt may in many ways be like a temple, but temples are not located on gravesites and do not have festivals set by death anniversaries. Most temples in south India give prominence to the goddess, who enjoys great popularity among the people who go to temples for worship. But the goddess has no home in Mutt. If the Mutt is like a temple, it is a temple with a difference; for the Mutt is also like a grave. (1990: 264) The dead do not have a sense of touch! Though we cannot universalise the observation of Yocum, we can treat it as a general phenomenon. Only by the act of recovering the ‘source’ can the ascetic get societal standing. From our reading, we can state that the rebellion against the idea of the Brahmin is not a rebellion against the caste order. It an act of recovering the ‘source’. Hawley’s (1990: 490) argument fits into our scheme: One may criticise the ascetics of one’s own day; one may say that their religion is not religious enough. But when it comes to building religious institutions of one’s own, it appears, a network of renunciants provides the firmest ground to stand on. I prefer to restate Hawley’s conclusion thus: one may refuse to be an object for the un-touch sense, but when it comes to recovering the ‘source’, the essential quality of the ‘source’, the touch-un-ability of the subject provides the firmest ground to stand on. We can see this phenomenon even in the colonial period. Iyothee Thass (1845–1914) attempts to recover the ‘source’

140  Translating touch-un-ability by differentiating the Brahmins as yathartha brahmanas (real or true Brahmins) and vesha brahmanas (pseudo Brahmins). He claims that Paraiahs, one of the Dalit jatis in the Tamil speaking area, are originally Buddhists and hence ‘true’ Brahmins. According to him, the people who claim to be Brahmins are pseudo Brahmins and only Pariahs have the real qualities of the Brahmin, as Buddhists, as in the original. In Indirar Desa Carithram (History of Indira Desa) Thass writes, In order to acquire those honours and respect which accrued only to our spiritual [the yathartha brahmanas] they [the vesha brahmanas] approached the illiterate chieftains and citizens of Indirar Desam and claimed falsely that they were also arhats [enlightened men]. They also sent their women to the kings, distracted them into debauchery and thus corrupted them. They did all they could to pass themselves off as yathartha brahmanas, worthy of worship by all. Those who fell party to the sophistry of the vesha brahmanas became Hindus. Those who rejected them and were degraded were the Buddhist, who came to be known, from then on, as Pariahs. (Thass, 1957, in Geetha and Rajadurai, 2011: 94) We can summarise that the source, ‘ideal Brahmin’ or ‘true’ Brahmin is again and again recreated through the act of translation. But in this act of recreating the source, as we said before, the touch-un-ability of the ‘source’ is unacknowledged. This essential component, which is unacknowledged or would not be translated either linguistically or socially, enables the translator to become an author. That is, the subject-centric part of touch-un-ability of the ‘source’ becomes untranslatable. We will problematise it through the reform movement of Basavanna. The Lingayatas movement of South India in the medieval period negated the ascetic ideals and as part of consolidating its social form inevitably absorbed the ascetic values. Michael Blake says, for, half a millennium after Sankara, the Virasaivas had attempted to bridge the dichotomy between world rejection and world affirmation by calling for ascetical discipline and self-control, not for the explicit purpose of escaping mundane existence, but instead for the purpose of living a holy life entirely with the world of work and worry. (1990: 409) Blake tries to characterise the Virasaiva movement as ‘laicization of the ascetic ideal’ (ibid.: 410). The most important feature of the Virasaiva movement is that it radically redefined the notions of purity and pollution. The menstrual period and the period immediately after childbirth are not seen impure states. Similarly, the death of a relative does not cause a period of impurity. The boundaries of purity and pollution are reconfigured. But

Translating touch-un-ability 141 the question we need to raise is whether this reform movement offered an alternative perspective in negating the Brahmanical notions of purity and pollution or negating the touch-un-ability of the ‘original’. Virasaivas, Blake writes, ‘appear to imitate these samnyasins or anchoritic ascetics, but continue to live within the forms of normal human society. The ascetical ideal is thus transferred into the realm of lay this-worldly endeavour’ (ibid.: 413). Basavanna ‘sought to bring the values of ascetical self-control and mystical, spiritual progress into the realm of everyday life within a religious community’ (ibid.: 416). The Virasaiva movement, in its endeavour to accommodate the ascetic ideals into the householder realm, makes a different attempt at recovering the ‘ideal’ ascetic. Simplistically stated, the ‘ideal’ Brahmin status claimed by empirical Brahmins is not true because they are not ‘true’ renouncers. They are just householders claiming the status and prestige of the renouncer. Whereas the followers of Basavana, though are householders, claimed that they are true ascetics. This position has a remarkable similarity to the response of the Brahmins to King Aama in the Dharmaranya Purana. The encounter between Basavana and Manteswamy is an interesting story which highlights the problem of translating the subject-centric nature of the touch-un-ability of the ‘source’. This story may not be historically valid. Nevertheless, this story must have been created by the followers of Manteswamy, and hence it makes it more valid to problematise the subjectcentric nature of touch-un-ability. Further, this story gets its legitimacy only because it has been created by Manteswamy’s followers. Manteswamy is a Dalit saint (16th century). His ‘cult followers are called Nilagaras. They are mostly Dalits, and they still repeat and commemorate the words of Manteswamy in the form of sayings (vacanas)’ (Ikegame, 2010: 68). D.R. Nagaraj, in his essay ‘The Problems of Cultural Memory’ (2011), narrates this story. Madeshwara and Manteswamy are two Dalit saints from southern Karnataka. ‘Both these cults took their motifs and symbolism from the radical Virasaiva movement, but, expressed themselves via the premises of untouchables and lower castes. Their efforts were revivalist insofar as they appropriate the radical thrust of Virasaiva’s origins’ (ibid.: 156). The story challenges the premise on which the Virasaiva movement got institutionalised. Once, he [Manteswamy] appears in front of Basavanna’s house, with a dead buffalo on his shoulders and a pot of toddy in his hands. The followers of Basavanna – the great leader of Virasaiva movement – do not let him in. Disgusted by such treatment, Manteswamy comes back and sits on a filthy heap in front of another Dalit saint’s house. Basavanna himself now comes running to apologise, but Manteswamy does not budge. While pleading with the untouchable saint to return to the Great Hall, the Anubhava Mantapa, Basavanna touches his feet: but Manteswamy’s limbs come apart. Basavanna and his wife carry the dead

142  Translating touch-un-ability buffalo, the toddy pot, and Manteswamy’s limbs to the Great Hall for worship. Thus the story proceeds, and finally, Manteswamy comes back to life. (Nagaraj, 2011: 156–157) We can read this story as an excellent example manifesting the problem of translating touch-un-ability of the subject (Basavanna) and the refusal by the subject (Manteswamy) to be an object for either the touch sense or un-touch sense of the subject (Basavanna). Manteswamy refuses to be an object not only for Basavanna’s un-touch sense but also for his touch sense. Manteswamy visits the Anubhava Mantap as an autonomous subject. Yet the followers of Basavanna treat him as an object for their un-touch sense, though manifested as an object for touch sense but untouched. Or can we read the act of rejecting Manteswamy from the notions of purity and pollution? That is, Manteswamy is not seen as an object for the un-touch sense of Basavanna’s followers. What happens when we read this story from the perspective of purity and pollution? Manteswamy becomes an object for touch sense but untouched. If so, the act of Basavanna touching the feet of Manteswamy and his limb coming apart has to be read thus: the object for touch sense but untouched becomes a touched object. Even if this is so, Manteswamy remains an object from his perspective. The limb touched by Basavanna coming apart can be read as a refusal to be an object, and as an attempt to claim the status of an autonomous subject. So, how do we read the act of Basavanna and his followers? Is Manteswamy an object for touch sense but untouched, or is he an object of un-touch sense? This ambiguity leads us to another question: is Manteswamy outside the system or inside the system? The attempt by Manteswamy to be an autonomous subject, with respect to the established worldview of the Basavanna sect, makes him part of the system and not outside. But is this position so clear in this story? I think not. Hence, we have the possibility of reading the act of Basavanna and his followers both from the purity-pollution framework and untouchability framework. Either way, Manteswamy is absolutely essential for Basavanna’s liberation. But the problem is on what basis can Basavanna identify Manteswamy as an autonomous subject? As we saw before, untouchability is not object-centric. It is subject-centric. It is a self-defined position. If we read this story from the perspective of untouchability, Basavanna is trying to redefine his selfdefined position. But in the act of redefinition, he converts Manteswamy from an object for un-touch sense into an object for touch sense. The irony is that Manteswamy remains an object irrespective of Basavanna’s position. However, what options does Basavanna have? At the same time, why should Manteswamy accept being an object for Basavanna to overcome his touchrelated problems? From the untouchability perspective, only by converting the object for untouch sense into touch sense can Basavanna address the touch-un-ability of

Translating touch-un-ability 143 the self. In this mode, what happens if an object refuses to be an object? In this story, Manteswamy does exactly this. He refuses to be an object. Is there any other option for the subject with un-touch sense to address his touchun-ability without referring to an object? The crux of the problem is since un-touch sense cannot be made corporeal without creating corresponding objects for that sense, the un-touch sense cannot be overcome without referring to corresponding objects. This problem seems to be unresolvable. The subject (Basavanna) with touch-un-ability cannot liberate himself without the co-operation of the subject (Manteswamy) to remain as an object. But, the co-operation does not evolve an autonomous subject and sustains an object (for un-touch sense) as an object (for touch sense). The refusal of the object to remain as an object for the subject’s liberation is a morally and ethically valid position. We will try to understand his paradox through Gandhi and Ambedkar. All the social reformers, after Sankara, translated the touch-un-ability of the subject only from the object’s point of view. The subject’s touch-un-­ability could not be conceptualised or translated either linguistically or socially. This issue is acutely manifested in the Basavanna-Manteswamy story. It is because the subject’s touch-un-ability is untranslatable. As we saw, anything that is untranslatable has touch-un-ability. Both ­untranslatability and touchun-ability are premised on closing a boundary and does not definitely depend on the characteristic features of the object that s­ ubstantiates it. Mathematics is untranslatable, and hence we can say that it has t­ouch-un-ability (in the sense of self closure). We saw this by examining Sarukkai’s reading. That is why the social reformers, though they saw untouchability as a moral and ethical issue and tried to move towards the people who are supplemented as objects for the subject’s un-touch sense, would not translate the part that essentially defines the subject. The reformers and/or the followers of the reformers in the process of recovering the source (sects), inherit the touch-un-ability of the source to get a coherent form both for the self and their group (jatis). It becomes the means of sustaining the boundaries of the respective jatis even if the jatis identify themselves as part of a particular sect. I think we are moving towards some understanding of why jatis, including the Dalit jatis, are unable to mobilise as a group against the untouchability practised by that jati. Even in modern times, socially we are unable to revolt against untouchability as a group (jati). All the social articulations against untouchability are from the position of an individual who locates him/herself outside the jatis but within the caste order. As Veena Das points out correctly, untouchability is the means by which the jatis sustain their boundaries. It is the means by which the boundaries of the biological body of the jati subject is defined. Das’s reading is important in understanding the role of jatis as discrete units. In short, we can summarise that the sects are formed by revolting against or negating or redefining the ‘source’, the notional Brahmin, and jatis are created and sustained by inheriting the touch-un-ability of the ‘source’.

144  Translating touch-un-ability These are not separate acts. Touch-un-ability is an essential feature of the ‘ideal Brahmin’. Without inheriting the un-touch sense, the ‘source’ cannot be recovered. Hence the revolt against the notional Brahmin does not necessarily mean revolt against untouchability or against the caste order. It is only against the claims of Brahmins that they are the ‘true’ Brahmins, a ‘true’ renouncer.

Issues in translating touch-un-ability To problematise the untranslatability of the subject-centric nature of touchun-ability, I will try to read the differences between Gandhi and Ambedkar and their treatment of untouchability. When we come to Gandhi, he, like Basavanna, as an individual, is acutely aware of the touch-un-ability of the self. He tries to overcome this un-ability by converting the untouchables into Harijans. But Ambedkar, like Manteswamy, refuses to be an object for both the touch and un-touch sense of the subject, Gandhi. Ambedkar’s entire effort is to define the Dalits as autonomous subjects. The dual electoral rights issue and the resultant Poona Pact between Gandhi and Ambedkar can be the site for our discussion. Though, Ambedkar wants to define the Dalits as sovereign subjects, where does he locate them? Ambedkar identified the Dalits as people who are simultaneously both outside the system and part of the system. As he used to say, the Dalits are both part and apart at the same time. This ethical ambiguity is there with Ambedkar to the end. The position of Ambedkar in the issue of dual electoral rights manifests his dilemma. When the Dalits locate themselves outside the system, how can the subject, who constitutes the system, overcome his/her touch-un-ability? That is why Gandhi is very particular in that unless the Dalits are within the system, he cannot liberate himself. Gandhi went to the extent of fasting against dual electoral rights for Dalits. He is ready to accept the communal award for Muslims. But he is not willing to accept dual electoral rights for Dalits. This can be read as the inherent compulsion of the subject with touch-un-ability. But Ambedkar’s position is quite the opposite of this: why should Dalits remain an object for the subject to liberate himself? When the object for un-touch sense refuses to become an object for touch sense, what options does the subject have to liberate him/ her? In other words, can the touch-un-ability of the subject be overcome without reference to an object? Can the subject self-purify himself/herself independent of the object? At the same time, if Ambedkar locates the Dalits outside the system, how can he evolve an autonomous subject as part of the system? I would like to approach this problem in two stages. In the first stage, I wish to look at the differences between Gandhi and Ambedkar in the larger social context. The difference is mainly centred on the issue of the untranslatability of the subject-centric nature of untouchability. In the second stage, I wish to see how Gandhi handled the touch-un-ability of the subjects in the

Translating touch-un-ability 145 four ashrams he established at various times. The four ashrams that Gandhi established can be read as excellent examples to understand the issues associated with translating the touch-un-ability of the subject independent of the object. Still, the basic question remains: did Gandhi’s ashrams evolve a Dalit self, as an autonomous subject? Untouchability will not be removed by the force even of law. It can only be removed when the majority of Hindus realise that it is a crime against God and man and are ashamed of it. In other words, it is the process of conversion, i.e., purification of the Hindu heart. (in Kolge, 2017: 243–244) But untouchability is a sin, a great crime and if Hinduism does not destroy this serpent while there is yet time, it will be devoured by it. (ibid.: 112) Redefining the self with touch-un-ability had been the primary focus of Gandhi. But this mode becomes socially problematic. Gandhi’s translation of untouchables as ‘Harijans’ is nothing but the manifestation of the untranslatability of the touch-un-ability of the subject. I will take two authors’ readings of Gandhi to understand this problem of untranslatability: those of Ajay Skaria and D.R. Nagaraj. Gandhi acknowledges, I would say, rightly, that ‘even if untouchability is external to varnadharma’, as Skaria (2016: 162–163) points out, ‘the practitioner of varnadharma remains absolutely responsible for it’. We can read this position of Gandhi as an attempt to recover the varnadharma and also as an attempt to remove untouchability. Nevertheless, if the practitioners of varnadharma have an absolute responsibility, then, as Skaria writes, ‘that responsibility turns out to require nothing less than the self-sacrifice or should one say relinquishment, of varnadharma itself’ (ibid.: 163). According to Skaria, Gandhi locates untouchability outside varnadharma and sees untouchability as a greater evil than varnadharma. In a sense, he is right. If we go by the notion of the ‘ideal Brahmin’ – a Paramahamsa sanyasi, who is not bound by varnasramadharma − then Gandhi locating untouchability outside varnadharma is a valid position. But when we take the reform/revolt tradition against the notional Brahmin, in particular, the self-purification traditions like that of Ramanuja or Basavanna, then we need to ask why touch-un-ability of the source has crept into these traditions? But as we saw in the previous section, the touch-un-ability of the ‘ideal’ Brahmin not only defines the sanyasi or saints or yogis of various sects, but it has also become the means of defining the householder body, jati subject, and the technology of safeguarding the boundaries of the jatis. In the context of untouchability, saving or not saving varnadharma do not carry any real significance. But for Gandhi, ‘the branches of untouchability must

146  Translating touch-un-ability be destroyed so that the tree of varnadharma can be saved: “Let us have the pruning knife and lop off these diseased branches, but let us not lay the axe at the root” ’ (ibid.: 163). The problem, however, is that if the Dalits are seen from the varna framework, then they are outside the system. But if we see them from the untouchability framework, then they are within the system. The objects for un-touch sense cannot be outside the system. In the caste order, Dalits are outside the system, and as discrete jatis, they are within the system. This is similar to Brahmins who, as discrete jatis, are within the system, but as signifying the ‘ideal’ Brahmin cannot be within the system. That is the empirical Brahmins who signify the ‘ideal’ Brahmin cannot locate themselves within the system. Untouchables and Brahmins are nothing but the objectification of the boundary of an order: physical body, sects, jatis. They are simultaneously both part of and apart from the given system. This ambiguity makes it much more dangerous. As objects for un-touch sense they are within the system, and as objects for touch sense but un-touched, they are outside the system. Then how does the subject with un-touch sense approach the object? Either as inside the system or outside the system. Where does the object locate him/herself? Either as inside the system or outside the system? In the first issue of the periodical Harijan, which Gandhi started in 1933, Ambedkar wrote, ‘the out-caste is the by-product of the caste system. There will be outcastes as long as there are castes. Nothing can emancipate the outcaste except the destruction of the caste system’ (in Skaria, 2016: 163). As we saw before the outcastes like the Candalas are a by-product of the system. Even Ambedkar has written that Candalas, though untouched – a by-product of a given order and hence outside the system – are not subjected to untouchability. As we saw in detail, untouchability is not the by-product of the system. Untouchability is the inherent essence. This point has been elucidated well by Anupama Rao. Skaria quotes from Anupama Rao’s manuscript, ‘Stigma and the Political Subject’, where she says, ‘untouchability is the secret of the caste system’ (ibid.), and she further argues that this negative force (untouchability) held the caste order together, making structural violence integral to the molecular order of caste. Though despised, untouchables formed the glue of the caste order; while untouchability was its structuring negative principle, it was Hinduism’s ‘constitutive outside’, its necessary yet excised animating force. Untouchability provided the single point of unification for the otherwise fragmented Hindu castes. In every other aspect, a difference of practice and belief fractured Hinduism irreparably. (Rao, 2010: 127) Caste order would not exist without a set of people identified as untouchables and Brahmins. Jatis as discrete units cannot exist without the idea of the Brahmin and the practice of untouchability. The essential component of the jatis is touch-un-ability. Then, how do we read Ambedkar’s statement that

Translating touch-un-ability 147 ‘there can be a better or worse Hindu, but a good Hindu there cannot be’. If we take the word ‘Hindu’ as a social order, meaning caste order and not a religion, then the question is where does Ambedkar locate himself: in the caste order or as discrete jati? When we are talking about the caste order, the identification is on categories (Brahmin, Sudra, untouchables) and the characteristic features of discrete jatis are not taken into account. But the relationship between discrete jatis is what is objectified as the caste order. The problem is that the touch-un-ability of the discrete jatis would not be acknowledged when we talk about the caste order. This essential component is erased, or any link with it is made invisible. In other words, the technology of creating and sustaining the boundaries of the jatis – their touchun-­ability – would not be translated socially. Ambedkar, in his statement, is talking about caste order, and not about discrete jatis. This statement becomes possible only by locating himself outside the discrete jati and within the caste order. In this sense, he is both part (empirical) and apart (notional). The problem of translation is manifested very acutely in Gandhi when he identifies the untouchables as Harijans. Skaria discusses two issues associated with the word Harijan. First, the word ‘Harijan’ evolves from the subject’s absolute responsibility towards untouchability and is related to the notion of self-sacrifice. He asks a brilliant question: if Harijans are children of God, then who are non-Dalits? Are they not children of God? In the aloneness of this absolute responsibility for his violence, he must become the durijan [bad people], the duragrahi [the opposite of a satyagrahi]. That very process also requires that those excepted by abjection – the Dalits and untouchables – should by inversion come to exemplify the divine or become Harijans. Those who had been guilty of violence towards untouchables cannot in this logic claim to be children of God, except by denying absolute responsibility for their violence. (Skaria, 2016: 165) The second point he discusses is the subject’s repentance or prayaschitta. Skaria says, insistence on repentance posits a gap between Harijans on the one hand and saytagrahis as durijans on the other. Saytagrahis must seek to traverse this gap – which is infinite – by embodying Harijanness, as Gandhi, for instance, does by practising scavenging. And yet, even after such embodiment, saytagrahis cannot know whether they are Harijan – they must in order to be responsible insist on an infinite gap separating them from Harijans. (ibid.) The absolute responsibility of the subject is in its social manifestation – becoming Harijan rests on this infinite gap. This infinite gap is nothing

148  Translating touch-un-ability but the lived experience, a distance, as Sarukkai says, ‘that can never be assimilated entirely’. So, even if Gandhi scavenges, he cannot have the lived experience of the Dalits. In other words, the gap between the subject and object for touch sense is finite. Yet, in order to take absolute responsibility, the subject must ‘insist on an infinite gap separating them from Harijans’. This infinite gap is the phenomenological experience of the subject. How can a subject traverse this gap? The paradox is that in trying to traverse this infinite gap, the infinite gap is recovered continuously. Skaria states beautifully: The figure of Harijan is possible only where there is an abyssal gap that must be traversed and yet cannot be, for the Harijan is the figure to whom a debt is forever owed. The word ‘Harijan’ is the acknowledgement of this debt, of the need for prayaschitta or repentance without end. (ibid.: 166) The infinite gap cannot be overcome because the ethical move to overcome this gap recovers the objects as objects. Without this infinite gap, there is no subject with an absolute responsibility or repentance. But what is the relationship between the subject with repentance and the Harijans? Skaria argues that the satyagrahi ‘gives his repentance to the Harijans. If he recognises his repentance as no repentance at all, as inadequate, given the enormity of his sins, then he has not paid himself back – he will be aware that no repentance has taken place’ (ibid.: 167). In short, for the repentance of the subject to be meaningful, the Dalits must remain as Dalits. That is, the Dalit must go from being an object for a subject’s un-touch sense to being an object for the subject’s touch sense. The Dalit’s remaining an object is nothing but recovering the infinite gap between Dalits and non-Dalits. Unless the Dalit remains an object, the subject cannot feel that he/she has overcome his/her touch-un-ability, he/she cannot feel the completeness of repentance. The absolute responsibility or repentance of a subject is nothing but selfpurification and sustaining the objects as objects. For this self-purification to take on a social meaning, the acceptance of the object is the essential component. When the object decides not to remain an object, then the subject cannot feel the completeness of his/her Self-purification. The inherent problem in the self-purification model is explained beautifully by D.R. Nagaraj: Babasaheb had no other option but to reject the Gandhian model. He had realised that this model had successfully transformed Harijans as objects in a ritual of self-purification, the ritual being performed by those who had larger heroic notions of their individual selves. In the theatre of history, in a play of such a script, the untouchables would never become heroes in their own right; they are just mirrors for a hero to look at his own existentialist angst despair, or may be even glory. (2011: 47–48)

Translating touch-un-ability 149 In the Gandhian approach, the irony is, as Nagaraj says, the objects for untouch sense are transformed into objects for self-purification of the subject. Though, for Gandhi, the act of self-purification is nothing but the reflection on the touch-un-ability of the subject, can the self reflection locate the Dalits as autonomous subjects? ‘Gandhi, “presumes” that his repentance has already made him a bhangi (a member of sweeper caste) or Harijan, and therefore more representative of the untouchables than Ambedkar’ (Skaria, 2016: 167). Has Gandhi, like Basavanna, any other option? In reverse, we can also ask does Ambedkar have any other option? If Gandhi had accepted Ambedkar as the autonomous subject, then how would he purify himself of this touch-un-ability? In reverse, we can ask, why should Dalits remain as objects so that the subjects with touch-un-ability can purify themselves? The story about a Dalit boy which Nagaraj narrates is an excellent example. Nagaraj (2011: 52–55) really takes this story to an epic level. During Gandhi’s fast in May 1933, a Dalit boy meets him asking help for his higher studies. Gandhi promises to help him but makes an agreement that he must help to end his fast by giving him orange juice on an appointed hour. The Dalit boy agrees. But he does not turn up on the appointed hour as promised, and Mahadev Desai is very disappointed. Nagaraj raises the question, (which people like Mahadev Desai, as Gandhi’s followers, would not raise) why the boy did not turn up and suggests that ‘the Harijan boy who took a decision not to keep the appointment with Gandhi was reborn as a Dalit youth’ (2011: 55). Like Manteswamy, who refused to be an object for Basavanna’s self-purification, the Dalit boy too refused to be an object for ­Gandhi’s self-purification. In other words, similar to how Manteswamy denied Basavanna a complete victory, the Dalit boy too denied Gandhi his complete victory. In the Gandhian praxis, Nagaraj says, the ‘untouchables would never become heroes in their own right’. In other words, in the Gandhian praxis, the Dalits would not become an autonomous subject. Related to this, Nishikant Kolge (2017: 258) raises an important point: ‘Gandhi, in his long struggle against the caste system, which lasted almost three decades, did not succeed in creating even a single Dalit leader of the stature of Ambedkar, Nehru, or Patel’. A Dalit leader of Ambedkar’s stature can rise only when Dalits refuse to be an object for self-purification of a non-Dalit subject and become subjects on their own, like Manteswamy or the Dalit boy who missed his appointment with Gandhi. An autonomous Dalit self is not possible in the Gandhian framework. Dalits are not autonomous subjects; they are Harijans, objects for self-purification. I see this as the inherent problem of translating the touch-un-ability of the subject, because of the different meanings the term carries, as discussed earlier. And the response to this self-purification, say, by Ambedkar, is similar to the response of the sects in medieval India. Like we saw before, all the sects attempted to recover the ‘source’, the notional Brahmin, an ideal ascetic, and Ambedkar too revolted against the Mahatma, the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, an ‘ideal’ ascetic. Ambedkar’s (2014) criticism of Gandhi,

150  Translating touch-un-ability in his ‘Is Gandhi Mahatma?’, has a lot of similarities with the criticism Buddhists and Jains raised against Brahmins for living a householder’s life and claiming the status of a renouncer. The Babasaheb in the Buddhist robe has remarkable continuity with the reform traditions. Ambedkar became an author (autonomous Dalit subject) by refusing to accept Gandhi as the true representation of the ideal ascetic. R.S. Khare, in his essay ‘Evaluating an Ideal Ascetic’ analyses the Ravidas movement and concludes thus: It is a movement basically opposite to the Brahman’s, allowing the ideologist to try to limit and devalue the socially established Hindu icons, rituals, and institutions. The higher the stakes set by the concrete casteHindu relations, the more strongly felt is the ideologist’s need to enunciate a contrasting spiritual scheme. From the outside, spiritualisation may look like an escape, and perhaps the only one available, but from within, it is culturally the most direct, genuine, and powerful procedure to opt for. It is also the one that the caste Hindu can never dismiss or reject without damage to himself. (2010: 193) Ambedkar would not link his act of recovering the ‘source’ with the premodern revolt traditions without liberating himself from the social sciences framework. Again, Nagaraj’s reading of Ambedkar’s ‘Buddha and Dhamma’ is an important perspective. He says, Babasaheb’s transformation was altogether unconventional: for he gave up modern forms of reasoning in order to express it. He has been an able social scientist, well trained in the methods of Western sciences, and he had always presented his case using an impressive statistical base. His last epoch-making book would have none of this: it was never an anthology in the academic sense. It was a book of faith, a book abounding in legends, parables, and tales: in this sense, The Buddha and His Dharma registers Babasaheb’s experience of fatigue with social science mode of reasoning. It is interesting that, after great guru Ramakrishna Paramahamsa, it was Babasaheb who was the next to use the mode of parables to communicate his ideas. By giving up a certain kind of language, I believe, he was indicating that he was also giving up the system that gave birth to it. The new Bouddha bhikshu should, ideally, have explained the significance of his discursive and epistemic rebirth in detail. But death, the great snatcher, intervened. (2011: 162–163) We saw that the numerous sects from the medieval period would not translate the touch-un-ability of the subject in their attempts to recover the ‘source’. In this aspect also we see extraordinary continuity with the premodern past. Ambedkar too would not translate the touch-un-ability of the

Translating touch-un-ability 151 jati subject. He located the subject within the caste order. That is, he did not adequately address the relationship between discrete Dalit jatis within the caste order. Though the imaginary of the Dalits today is not Ambedkar in the Buddhist robe, most of the members of the Mahar jati, from which Ambedkar came, have appropriated a mixture of Buddhist and their traditional rituals and identify themselves as Buddhist Mahars.6 Ambedkar saw the practice of untouchability among the Dalits as the imitation of the Brahmins. But is not the act of imitation an active one? Can it be passive? Or without any agency? In this sense also the difference between Ambedkar and Gandhi is very important. Kolge notes this important difference (2017: 235): For Gandhi, ‘upper-caste Hindus were as much victims of the caste system as the untouchables’, and in order to abolish the caste system, it was equally necessary for every individual, irrespective of caste, to overcome such caste prejudices. But Ambedkar could not accept that the upper-caste Hindus were as much victims of the caste system as the untouchables, because for Ambedkar, ‘the caste difference and hierarchies are real’ (ibid.). When we try to locate the untouchables and the uppercaste Hindus within the caste order, then I believe Ambedkar is right in his assessment. But when we look into the relationship between discrete jatis, then Gandhi is right. The notional Brahmin can take many different forms. It can take the form of Mahatma, a householder-saint, an ideal ascetic, or Krishna’s gopis. Similarly, touch-un-ability of the subject too can take different forms. A jati can become endogamous, or refuse inter-dinning, or try to degrade one particular vocation or claim superiority over something that cannot be materialised. The notions of purity and pollution can too become the basis for manifesting the touch-un-ability of the subject. Here the puritypollution related acts become manifested forms. That is, the objects for touch sense but untouched can become objects for un-touch sense. Both, the source and the touch-un-ability are subject centric. Though both, the ‘ideal’ Brahmin and the touch-un-ability of the subject, are interrelated, one is notional and the other is empirical. One is translatable, and other is untranslatable from the subject’s perspective. As we said earlier, the very enterprise of self-making is predicated on a subject-oriented limit set by touch-un-ability with no definitive prescription of who would provide the empirical substantiation because touch-un-ability is the self-defined position. Ambedkar did not address this subject-oriented limit set by touchun-ability but refused to be an object for self-purification of the non-Dalit subject. Gandhi, though he tried to translate the touch-un-ability of the subject, ended up transforming the objects for un-touch sense as objects for touch sense. The difference between Gandhi and Ambedkar is inevitable, and it cannot be resolved easily. We will look into the second aspect of Gandhi’s approach. We will focus on the lifestyles in the four ashrams he established at various times. Gandhi once said that ‘the Ashram is the measuring rod by which people can judge

152  Translating touch-un-ability me’ (Kolge, 2017: 17). Gandhi established two ashrams in South Africa (the Phoenix Settlement in 1904 and Tolstoy farm in 1910) and two in India (Satyagraha ashram in 1915 and Sevagram ashram in 1936). The ashrams Gandhi established can be seen as a sort of parallel life to the larger society. In one sense Gandhi’s ashrams are counter-narratives to the mutts (monastic institutions). As we saw before, the mutts are an institutionalised translation of the ‘source’. We also saw that different sects and jatis organised themselves around a particular mutt. Though non-sectarian groups might have organised themselves around other social parameters, each and every sect/jati has its own rituals and differentiation is established. This brought coherence to the sect/jati. In the ashrams established by Gandhi, he tried to invert the means by which the mutts sustained itself. It’s a different world with its own set of rules and regulations. If the Buddhist and Jain monastic institutions evolved as an anti-culture to the Brahmanical householder-centred worldview, after Sankara, the monastic institutions in the Brahmanical tradition evolved through recovering the ‘ideal Brahmin’ or ‘ideal ascetic’ and sustained itself by appropriating the touch-un-ability of the ‘source’. Gandhi evolved his ashrams to overcome the touch-un-ability of the subject and to restore the dignity of manual labour. No caste distinctions were tolerated in the Kochrab and Sabarmati ashrams [Sabarmati ashram was started in a place called Kochrab and later shifted to the banks of Sabarmati River] and every member, child and adult alike, are required to contribute to the maintenance of the ashrams and to devote a certain amount of their time each day to the constructive work . . . it is a matter of fact that in the ashram, scavenging was part of day-to-day life for all the inmates, irrespective of their caste and religion. (Kolge, 2017: 23–24) Based on Mary Douglas’s reading we saw that human waste is the by-­ product of the body system. Where there is a system, there is dirt, a byproduct. Gandhi refused to accept human waste as the by-product of the body system. He saw that as the essential part of the system of the human body. So the question is, does the human waste have an inherent quality of impure or dirt? Gandhi acknowledged that the impurity is not the essential quality of the human waste. He saw it as the essential quality of the system. That is why every inmate in the ashram, irrespective of their jati, must clean the human waste in turns. Kolge writes in detail about the lifestyle in Gandhi’s ashrams; untouchability is not practised in any form, and the notions of purity and pollution are redefined. For example, menstruating women are not isolated. Common prayer and a common kitchen was the norm. ‘In the ashram kitchen, Luhara, Bhatiyas, Brahmins, Khatris, Rajputs, Mussalmans, Banias all have been taking their meals together’ (ibid.: 23).

Translating touch-un-ability 153 Regarding the inter-caste marriages, what Gandhi said during his son Ramdas’s marriage is important. He said this on 27 January 1928: The wedding just celebrated would perhaps be for the Ashram the last as between parties belonging to the same caste. It behoved of people in the Ashram to take the lead in this respect, because people outside might find it difficult to initiate the reform. The rule should be on the part of the Ashram to discountenance marriages between parties of the same caste and to encourage those between parties belonging to different sub-castes. (in Kolge, 2017: 23) The conducts of the inmates, their lifestyles, were more likely to be controlled within the ashrams than in the wider society. There is an amount of similarity in the attitude of the people who came willingly to live in his ashram. Further, they have an uncritical acceptance of Gandhi, though not always. We can see this as an experiment conducted in a controlled environment. This is something like in Buddhist or Jain monasteries where people rejected the householder life and took to the ascetic principle. These ascetics are prepared for any amount of hardship. But these parallel institutions too would not escape from the issues found in the larger society. That is why even in his ashrams it was not easy to achieve what Gandhi wanted to achieve. In September 1915, Gandhi admitted an untouchable family (Dudabhai Malji Dafda, his wife Danibehn, and their daughter Lakshmi) into his Satyagraha Ashram, which he founded few months before 25 May 1915 at Kochrab near Ahmedabad. The ashram’s inmates were basically members of Gandhi’s Phoenix Farm who had eaten, worked, and lived together with untouchables in South Africa. However once back in India, they were not ready for this intermingling and opposed it vigorously . . . scarcely four months after starting the ashram, Gandhi faced a virtual walkout by his disciples over the presence of the so-called untouchable family in the ashram. But what was most difficult and astonishing for Gandhi was the strong opposition it fetched from his own wife Kasturba Gandhi, and from his most trusted disciple Maganlal Gandhi and his wife, Santok. Somehow Gandhi could manage to bring his wife around, but he had to send Maganlal and family to Madras for six months to learn weaving in order to resolve the problem. (ibid.: 106) We need to note two things here. First, the inmates of the ashram had no problem mingling with the Dalits in South Africa. But they objected to their presence in the ashram in India. This is the best example of the subjectcentric nature of untouchability. If the caste-Hindus have overcome their

154  Translating touch-un-ability touch-un-ability in South Africa, how is it that they acquired this ability again? This is the essential nature of touch-un-ability. It can define and redefine the objects for un-touch sense as the subject wishes. There are no set parameters. Parameters can be set only if they are object-centric. The subject-centric nature of touch-un-ability can define anything as objects for un-touch sense, irrespective of the quality or nature of the objects. Second, Gandhi might not have located the untouchables either as an object for untouch sense or for touch sense. He might have treated them as autonomous subjects. But are they autonomous subjects like other caste-Hindus in his ashrams? Do we have any life experiences of a Dalit in an ashram written by a Dalit? To write his experiences in the ashrams, a Dalit must evolve as an autonomous subject. When we look into this issue from the subject’s perspective, it gets more complicated. Gandhi asks, ‘why should we hesitate to touch the antyajas? It is not mentioned in any religious book that this community should not be touched, or treated as we are doing now’ (Kolge, 2017: 111). The question Gandhi asks is relevant. It is not there in any text, Brahmanical or otherwise. Based on Olivelle’s excellent study we saw that even in the dharma literature there is no concept of absolute purity of the body. How then to describe this practice of untouchability and talk to the subject who objectifies its touch-un-ability? Quoting another passage from Kolge’s book will illuminate this point: There is no question here of freedom of eating with or marrying any of them. The only question is whether physical contact with them should be avoided. When a member of this community becomes a Muslim, I do not avoid such contact with him; when he becomes a Christian, I salute him; I consider it no sin to allow myself to be touched by a Muslim or Christian after he has touched such a person, but I object to physical contact with the man himself! The very idea seems to me unjust, devoid of reason and contrary to dharma. That is why I consider myself sanctified when I touch any person of this class and have been continually beseeching the Hindus in all manner of ways, though remaining within the limits of propriety to free themselves from this stigma. (ibid.: 112) Here Gandhi is sanctifying himself by restoring the touch ability. This is what Basavanna did. But the problem is that the Dalits continue to be objects irrespective of being an object for a subject’s touch sense or untouch sense. Since the Dalits remain objects, there is always an ambiguity regarding their location: outside or inside the given system. But in the issue with Kasturba and Maganlal Gandhi, he is talking about the self-making of an individual. In other words, we can say that in his ashrams Gandhi tried to implement the alternative self-making process. This self-making process demanded that the Dalits be identified as autonomous subjects. But, for a

Translating touch-un-ability 155 subject to main a jati-subject, objects for un-touch sense becomes ­essential. Otherwise, the self-making process of the jati-subject gets problematic cannot be implemented. That is why, even in his ashrams, Gandhi could not demand from his caste-Hindu inmates recognition of the Dalits as sovereign subjects. It is not possible in the act of self-purification. But in the larger social space, this self-purification or sanctification acquires a sense of self-grandeur. Nagaraj (2011: 45) writes that ‘the agony of the spiritual cleansing of the Hindu self, leading to self-purification, had acquired tones of public grandeur, and in a subtle way led to the glorification of the individual self’. In the shadow of self-purification of an individual, the Dalits would never acquire the status of an autonomous subject. Can we say with any amount of certainty that this glorification of the individual has not happened in Gandhi’s ashrams? The pain of self-purification demands an ‘infinite gap’, and this gap is essential for the subject to purify the self. But Dalits remain as objects. Ambedkar was naturally against this. He did not want to be an object – either for touch sense or un-touch sense. His conversion to Buddhism was nothing but an attempt to become the ‘other’ where Dalits would be identified as sovereign subjects. Nevertheless, Gandhi was acutely aware of the infinite gap between himself and the Dalits. In 1925, Gandhi wrote in Young India: I am anxious to see an end put to untouchability because for me it is expiation and a penance. It is not the untouchables whose shuddhi I effect – the thing would be absurd – but my own and that of the Hindu religion. Hinduism has committed a great sin in giving sanction to this evil and I am anxious – if such a thing as vicarious penance is possible – to purify it of that sin by expiating for it in my own person. (in Kolge, 2017: 124) Here Gandhi again inverts the Brahmanical idea of suddhi. The Brahmanical idea ‘to purify the body’ is transformed into a means of liberation from touch-un-ability. The irony is that in the act of liberating oneself from touch-un-ability, the infinite gap between the subject and object is recreated. Suddhi does not change the status of the object. It only changes the status of the subject from impure state to pure state. Touch-un-ability is not related to the temporary or permanent impure status of the self. Untouchability defines the jati-self, both notionally and empirically. I would say Gandhi is aware of this. But still, objects are needed for the self to purify him/herself. In other words, Dalits are forced to be an object not only for the un-touch sense of the subject but also for overcoming the subjects’ touch-un-ability. That is why Ambedkar correctly asks, ‘it may be in your interest to deposit your impurities in us, but how can it be in our interests to remain a repository of your dirt (moral)?’ (in Guru, 2014: 200). The inevitable consequence

156  Translating touch-un-ability of the self-purification mode is that it created a halo around the caste Hindu Self. Nagaraj sums up thus: Since Gandhiji saw the movement to eradicate untouchability as a sacred ritual of self-purification, it has placed a great deal of moral responsibility on the caste Hindu self. A profound ethical halo would envelop the caste Hindu, which would look almost spiritual. (2011: 45) This self-purification is nothing but an attempt to overcome the infinite gap and simultaneously recreate the infinite gap between the subject and object. In other words, I would like to say that the subject-centric characteristic of touch-un-ability of the jati subject becomes untranslatable, or when attempts are made to translate it, it takes on a totally different meaning. That is why, despite his best intentions, Gandhi’s translation became object-centric. Ambedkar too, would not translate the touch-un-ability of the jati subject. This is not the limitation of either Gandhi or Ambedkar. We can observe this limitation right from the Ramanuja reform movement. Ramanuja tradition called Dalits thirukulathor (noble or respected community). But is that in any way different from Gandhi calling untouchables Harijans? Bhikku Parekh writes that Ambedkar was struck by the fact that there was no critical discourse on the history and development of untouchability during the entire history of Indian society. He thought that this was so because Hindu thinkers took it to be self-evident or part of the natural order of things, and he asked why they held such a view. (2015: 99) This is true. In the act of translation, that is, recovering the source, the touch-un-ability of the ‘source’, the ideal Brahmin is either unacknowledged or kept hidden. That is why Ambedkar saw untouchability as part of the caste order and not as the essential feature of the jati subject. That is why the relationship between discrete jatis, including Dalit jatis, did not get due attention even from him. I suspect he treated the essence of the relationship between discrete jatis as a by-product of the caste order. The caste order sustains itself through jatis and the relationship between the jati subjects. Theoretically speaking, the caste order is based on categories and, in our time, is hierarchical (Brahmin, non-Brahmin, and Dalits), but jatis as discrete units are not hierarchical. If Ambedkar had identified the touch-un-ability of the jati subject, then the Gandhian mode would have become more meaningful to him. On the other hand, like Ramanuja and Basavanna, though Gandhi too is acutely aware of the touch-un-ability of the subject, like medieval reformers, he too would not translate the subject-centric nature of touchun-ability without ambiguity. This ambiguity exists because of its very

Translating touch-un-ability 157 nature. The subject-centric nature of touch-un-ability is untranslatable. In the annihilation of caste discourses, caste-less society becomes a destination to be reached. In this discourse, touch-un-ability of the subject is located outside the jati-self. But, touch-un-ability lies hidden, very deep in the jati subject. This hidden feature is unacknowledged when we talk about caste annihilation. Though Ambedkar’s reading of caste order is very meaningful, Gandhi’s sincere attempts to translate the self’s hidden quality also needs to be equally recognised. This becomes essential if we take caste-less society as a way-of-life and not as a destination to be reached. We started with the question of why it is that, in Indian society, social groups as coherent units can raise against the claims of Brahmin and not against untouchability. The second question we raised was why physical violence is never directed against the empirical Brahmins and always against untouchables. I believe that I have attempted to address these two questions. The idea of the Brahmin is always notional, and the practice of untouchability is always empirical. Every jati is located in the inherent tension between the idea of the Brahmin and the practice of untouchability. By way of summary, I wish to state that the movements against the caste order are nothing but attempts to recover the original meaning of the idea of the Brahmin, refuting the claims of empirical Brahmins that they represent the true translation of the original. This recovery does not address the issue of touch-un-ability of the source or original. Only when the touch-un-ability of the subject is unacknowledged, erased, or hidden, the process of recovery or the translation of the original gets completed. Though the reformers act as translators, only by not acknowledging the essential component of the source, that is, touch-un-ability, can they claim to be authors. At the same time, reformers who are aware of the subject’s hidden or unacknowledged touch-un-ability would not translate it meaningfully. In the act of translating, the subject-centric nature of touch-un-ability becomes object-centric. Hence, I argue that the subject-centric nature of touch-un-ability is untranslatable. This untranslatability forms the essence of discrete jatis. Jatis sustain themselves based on untouchability, which is always empirical. Without creating corresponding objects for un-touch sense, this sense cannot be made corporeal. Ironically, any attempts to overcome or liberate the subject from touch-un-ability sustains the objects as objects. This paradox makes the entire caste order more difficult not only to understand but also makes it much more difficult for the subject to liberate from the touch-un-ability.

Notes 1 Even earlier, under Periyar’s leadership, similar agitations had occurred. See ‘Agitation for Removal of Brahmana Names’ (Thantai Periyar Dravida Kazhagam publication, 2016). 2 We saw that in Brahmanical tradition, karma fundamentally means ritual.

158  Translating touch-un-ability 3 For more on this see Talal Azad (2003). Anthropological studies see the cultural practices of the people as texts. In modernity, everything outside the human self is treated as text to be translated. 4 In this mode of reading, how do we understand pre-modern mathematics? I am not going into this question here as I am not clear on this. 5 That is why when people like Sayyed Hussein Nair regard Islamic science with suspicion. At worst it is equated with Islamic fundamentalism or Islamic revivalism. Because it opens the scientific discourse to culture, religion, and so forth. 6 For more detail see Caste Question and Dalit Lifeworlds: Postcolonial Perspectives, Ganguly (2005).

Conclusion The dead being is still alive

In the preceding pages, we discussed how to make sense of the jati-self, and the need to go beyond the varna scheme or the notions of purity-pollution. The phenomenological reading of ‘contact’ and ‘touch’ by Sarukkai not only enables us to differentiate purity-pollution and untouchability but also locate touch-un-ability as the essential characteristic of the subject. Based on Patrick Olivelle’s excellent translations and scholarly reading of the ancient and medieval texts, in particular, the Dharma literature and Upanisads, we saw that ‘contact’ is problematised from the Brahmin householder perspective, and ‘touch’ is problematised from the sanyasi perspective. In the medieval period, the axes of dualities such as Brahmin/Sudra, Brahmin/ascetic, householder/renouncer, ritual state/non-ritual state, human action/human inaction, culture/anti-culture, group/individual, aranya/city, human/animal, contact/touch, and touch/un-touch are conceptually resolved by defining the Brahmin with touch-un-ability, as the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, a dead being. The un-touch sense can be made corporeal only by creating corresponding objects for that sense. The ideal Brahmin, a Paramahamsa sanyasi, possesses un-touch sense and becomes a dead being both ritually and socially. This is symbolised through the rite of renunciation. The householder Brahmin remains a Brahmin only by signifying the ‘ideal’ Brahmin, a dead being, a being with un-touch sense. Without signifying the ideal Brahmin, the Brahmin householders cannot claim to be Brahmins. Thus a Brahmin householder becomes a subject with touch-un-ability. We discussed how in the medieval period the idea of the notional Brahmin became an original through the process of translation. The mutts, of Brahmins, non-Brahmins, and Dalits, became the site for different translations of this notional Brahmin. However, the reformers of various sects while attempting to translate, claiming that their translation was more truthful to the original, the notional Brahmin, became ‘authors’ only by acquiring the surplus of the original, that is, touch-un-ability. We also discussed why jatis as a coherent unit would not address the issue of touch-unability and thus made sense of Veena Das’s observation that untouchability defines the boundaries of discrete jatis, be that of Brahmin or non-Brahmin or Dalit jatis.

160  Conclusion Also, most importantly, we problematised the act of translating the touchun-ability of a subject, and its untranslatability both linguistically and socially. In the self-purification mode, the act of translating the touch-unability of the subject transforms the object for un-touch sense into objects for touch sense. Ironically, the objects remain as the objects. As discussed, untranslatability of the touch-un-ability of the subject becomes the site of contention between Gandhi and Ambedkar. The touch-un-ability of the subject, in the words of Ajay Skaria, creates an ‘infinite’ distance between the subject and the object. A subject to overcome his touch-un-ability has to traverse this ‘infinite’ distance – however, the very act to traverse that ‘infinite’ distance, unfortunately, recreates it. Unless the ‘infinite’ distance is recreated, the subject cannot fulfil his ‘absolute responsibility’. Thus, the act of prayaschitta or repentance becomes problematic. Ambedkar insisted on an autonomous subject and rejected the idea of being an object for either the touch or un-touch sense of a subject. At one level, if the object for untouch sense refuses to be an object for a subject’s touch sense, how can the subject with un-touch overcome his/her touch-un-ability? At another level, why should the object for a subject’s un-touch sense accept to remain as an object for the touch sense for the subject, so that the subject can claim that he/she has liberated himself/herself from his/her touch-un-ability? I think we need to explore this issue further philosophically. We can extend the idea of the notional Brahmin and the practice of untouchability to locate the colonial scholarship on varna and caste. In the modern discourse on caste and untouchability, the Brahmins become one homogenous entity and the discrete jatis even within the community of Brahmins cannot be accommodated conceptually. For example, I believe that the Orientalist-Anglicist reading of Brahmins can be interpreted as yet another translation of the idea of Brahmin. The Orientalist-Anglicist scholarship created a sort of binary between the Brahmins and the non-Brahmins, including Dalits. On one hand the Brahmins became the architect of the caste ‘system’, and on another, the non-Brahmins, including the Dalits are conceptualised as anti-caste. In this framework, Buddhism and other medieval reform movements are generally approached as anti-caste or anti- or non-Brahmin movements. This simplified reading could not make sense of mutts, sects, or empirical untouchability. The mutts of non-Brahmins and Dalits do not exist conceptually in the modern scholarship on caste. At the same time, the mutts are related not only to the idea of the notional Brahmin but also to the socio-economic structures. This needs to be explored further. The power of mutts among the jatis needs detailed study. The modern scholarship on caste does not approach the practice of untouchability conceptually. The Orientalist-Anglicist scholarship does not even make sense of the practice of untouchability. Even modern scholars who criticise the existing narrative of caste do not attempt to address the issue of untouchability theoretically. Though untouchability exists between discrete jatis, it does not exist in the conceptual framework

Conclusion 161 but gets reduced to the notions of purity and pollution. Unless we are able to conceptually or philosophically define what untouchability is, it is very difficult to make sense of how discrete jatis sustain their boundaries. Unfortunately, the practice of untouchability has always been approached empirically, and it is always object-centric. The difference between caste and untouchability is neither qualitative nor quantitative. The practice of untouchability cannot be merely an act of imitation, as a passive object. A jati subject cannot manifest the touch-un-ability being an object. Untouchability is neither the extreme form of caste differentiation nor connected to a set of people called untouchables. Untouchability defines the mode of relationship between discrete jatis. Sarukkai’s thesis of touch-un-ability opens up new possibilities to understand the mode of relationship between discrete jatis, the idea of Brahmin as a notional entity and thereby liberates us from the worn-out varna scheme or the anthropological matrix of purity and pollution. The idea of an ‘ideal’ Brahmin as a notional entity is the essence of Brahmanism. Brahmanism revolves around this notional entity. The power of empirical Brahmins lay in their claim that they signify the notional entity. Buddhism and Jainism did not reject the idea of Brahmin. The medieval reform movements, even by the non-Brahmins and Dalits did not reject the idea of notional Brahmin. They only questioned the claims of the empirical Brahmins. Buddhism, Jainism, and the medieval reform movements attempted to recover the original meaning of the idea of Brahmin. By attempting to recover the true meaning of the original, they contributed to making the idea of Brahmin an original or source. Only through different translations can an original become an original. Thus, the jatis, as discrete units, are very much part of the Brahmanical worldview, not as passive objects but as active subjects and as authors, because touch-un-ability defines the boundaries of the discrete jatis and jati-self. We cannot manifest touch-un-ability as passive subjects. This is unacknowledged in the anti-caste narratives. We cannot locate the discrete jatis and jati subject, even if it is a Dalit jati, outside Brahmanism. Though the non-Brahmin movements and the Dalit movements would negate the claims of Brahmins, they would not go against the practice of ­untouchability even between the jatis that constitute these modern identities. We need to seriously raise the question why untouchability practised by the non-Brahmin jatis and Dalit jatis even within the non-Brahmin and the Dalit identities are not problematised. The dead being, the idea of the notional Brahmin, is very much alive in the jati-self, and that is why the very enterprise of the jati’s self-making is predicated on a subject-oriented limit set by touch-un-ability with no definitive prescription of who would provide the empirical substantiation. We need to explore this further, not only politically and socially but also philosophically. This book is a modest attempt to make sense of the idea of the notional Brahmin and the touchun-ability of the self that defines the jati-self in India.

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Index

Aama (King) 71, 78 Acharyas, Vaishnava 8 Aitaerya (Upanisad) 23 Ajivikas 23 Alepakamatabhangavada (Desika, Vedanta) 104 Ambedkar 10, 60n1, 92, 109 anadhyaya 51 anti-caste narratives 18 anti-culture 25 aranya 28 Aryan/non-Aryan 7 asceticism 27, 28 ascetic traditions 26 ascetic worldviews 57, 91, 93 asramadharma 39 asramas 31 – 33, 39, 41, 64, 67 atyasramin 39 Azad, Talal 48, 49 Bamunu (Brahmin) 4 Baniya jatis 66 Basavanna 109 Bhakti movement 113 bhakti tradition 120 Bharathi, Bhaktavatsala 4 Bharati, Agehananda 41 Blake, Michael 110, 116 body: Brahmanism householder 45; Brahmin 44; human 47; metaphysics of 43; unified Brahmin 54 – 61 Brahmana Cafe 112 Brahmanical religion 31 Brahmanical theology 26 Brahmanical worldview 37, 63, 65, 81, 112, 113, 138, 161 Brahmanism 35; ascetic tradition in 56, 90; householder body 45; intellectual tradition of 32; renouncers in 30 – 35;

ritualistic worldview of 103; before Sankara 100; sanyasi tradition in 17 Brahmin body 44 Brahmin jatis 5, 88 Brahmin-ness 15 Brahmin renounces 101 Brahmins 69; anxieties of 3; ascetic tradition 11; and categorical partition 67 – 75; as a category 2, 3; category are 76; category of 4, 5; classifiers 2, 3; definition of 1; dualities 3; exchange relationship with society 17; and group differentiation 75 – 85; householder 20, 30, 38; idea of 3; intellectuals 20; king and 70; Orientalist-Anglicist reading of 160; political power of 14n1; practice of untouchability 14; and practice of untouchability 5; rites for events 17; sanyasi tradition in 3; self-making of 17; social, economic power 14n1 Brhadaranyaka Upanisad 39 Buddhism 7 – 9, 35, 37, 68; asceticism conceptualised in 18; ascetic tradition in 56; vs. Brahmanical tradition 17; city-centred elites 23; city environment 24; urban development 19 caste order 1, 5; social pyramid 1; untouchability 3 categorisation 2 Chakravarti, Uma 19, 30 Chandogya Upanisad 28 Chaturvedi Brahmins 77 Chretien, Jean-Louis 89 Christianity 21 City Brahmins 26 city-centred intellectual tradition 19

170 Index city-centric Brahmins 24 city-centric individualism 21 – 24 city cultures 23 city environment 24 colonial/post-colonial 10 Coorg society 52 counterculture 25 Creel, Austin B. 8 Dalit jatis 5, 13, 65, 88, 159 Dalit movements 161 Dalits 12, 18 Das, Veena 2, 7, 8, 11, 34, 35, 63, 65, 66, 71, 73 – 75, 77 – 84, 125, 138, 143, 159 Dazey, H. Wade 110 Derrida, Jacques 97, 98, 102, 103 Desika, Vedanta 104 Devanga purana 66 Devy, G.N. 115, 116 dharma 33, 39 Dharma 46 Dharma literature 10, 11 Dharmaranya Purana 11, 63, 67, 111 Dharmarnya 70 Dharmasastras 46 Dharmasastric traditions 26 Dharmasutra 63 Dirks, Nicholas 15 – 17 Douglas, Mary 9, 18, 19, 43, 44, 50, 52, 56, 74, 87 Dravida Kazhagam 112 Dravidian movement 112 Dumont, Louis 26, 45, 115 fire sacrifice 76, 77 forest hermit 25, 29 Freiberger, Oliver 37, 38, 101 Gandhi 48; vs. Ambedkar 10, 12, 160; limitations of 109; religious pluralism 25 Mauss, Marcel 74 Gombrich, Richard F. 19, 21 – 23, 57 Govi (farmers or Goyigama) 4 Goyigama (the dominant farmer caste) 4 Gupta, Dipankar 6 Guru, Gopal 14 Harijans 109 Heesterman, J.C. 29, 34, 110 – 112 Hindu 110 ‘Hindu’ tradition 8

Dirks, Nicholas 15 householder, anxiety of 45 householder Brahmin 11, 17, 24, 26, 29, 31 – 36, 38 – 45, 51, 54, 58 – 61, 63 – 65, 67 – 70, 72 – 74, 76, 78 – 80, 82, 84, 100, 103, 105 householder-centric worldview 90 householder worldviews 56, 57 human body 47, 91 ‘ideal’ Brahmin 42, 43. See also Brahmin Ikegame, Aye 8 Inam Settlement 15 Inden, Ronald 10 India 14n2; cultural world of 18; Dalit sect in 5; languages 9; nonBrahmin sects in 5; socio-economic 18; voluntary religious organisations in 21 Indirar Desa Carithram (Thass, Iyothee) 65 intellectual environment 19 Jainism 7, 8, 35, 37, 68; asceticism conceptualised in 18; vs. Brahmanical tradition 17; city-centred elites 23; city environment 24 Jain monk 111 Jatarupadhara 58 jatis 1, 3; caste and untouchability 45; characteristic feature of 10; inherent tension of 5; self-definition of 7 Jesus 97, 98 Jnatinibandha 66 Kabir 1, 116, 124, 132 – 137 Kaliyuga 81, 84 Karashima, Noboru 8, 117, 119, 125 karma 22, 27 Kausitaki (Upanisad) 23 Kritayuga 81 Kutadanta Sutta 111 land-owning communities 14n2 laukika Brahmin 16 life experience 18, 19, 24, 26, 30, 67, 115, 154 lifeworld 2, 5, 64, 113, 122 Lukas, Steven 21 Maitreya Upanisad 55 Marx, Karl 21, 26

Index  171 Marxist theory 23 Mckim, Marriott 10 McNeill, William 23 medieval period 74 Merleau-Ponty, M. 50, 51, 55, 94, 99, 102 Moheraka 70 Montagu, Ashley 88 mutts 8, 14n3, 57, 110, 114 – 125, 159 Nagaraj, D.R. 109 Naradaparivrajaka Upanisad 59 Naradaparivrajaka Upanisad 38, 41, 58 Narayanan, Vasudha 8 Nath yogi 134, 135, 137 Douglas, Mary 18, 43 Nithyasanyasi 34, 64, 69 nivrtti 33 non-Brahmanical movements 24 non-Brahmin: classified 2, 3; jatis 5, 88 non-Dalit jatis 5, 12 Obeyseskare, Gananath 4 Devy, G.N. 115 Olivelle, Patrick 7, 8, 11, 18, 20, 21, 23, 24, 26, 30, 31, 34, 35, 40, 42n2, 43, 44, 46 – 49, 51, 53 – 55, 58, 63, 64, 87, 93, 100, 101, 103, 106, 154, 159 outcastes 106, 107, 146 Panchamahabhute 84n1 panth (Kabir) 136 parai-cheri 119 Paramahamsa 39 parivrajaka tradition 110 physical body 9, 11, 52; boundaries of 44 Pocock, David 115 post-colonial Tamil Nadu 13 post-Sankara 10 pravrtti 33 prayaschitta 160 Pre-Sankara 10 preta (ghost) 20 preta state 40 Prince Siddhartha 23 Protestant Reformation 21 pseudo Brahmins 65, 140 Purana 81 purity and pollution 45 – 54; anthropological matrix of 45; in Brahmanical framework 43

purity-pollution: notions of 46 purity-pollution matrix 9, 11 Purohitas 4. See also Brahmin Ramanuja 109 Ramanujan, A.K. 120 religious individualism 21, 22 renouncer worldviews 56 renunciation 25 – 30 Roy, Kumkum 23 Samannaphala Sutta 30 Samnyasa Upanisads 11, 35, 36, 38, 58, 63 Samnyasins 121 samsara 28 samsara/moksa 28 samsaric life 54 Sankara 20, 38, 117 sanyasi body 44 sanyasi tradition 3, 7, 9, 20, 35 – 42, 68 Sarukkai, Sundar 7 – 8, 12, 44, 51, 60, 63, 74, 87, 88, 93, 95, 99 Sarvasramin 34, 64, 69 science 42n4 secular worldview 123 self-purification 109, 131 – 144 self-respect 131 – 144 Shah, Ahmad, Rev. 121, 122, 136 Shah, A.M. 8, 114 Shanmugam, P. 8 Shri Vaishnava 115 Shudra Jati Bheda (Das, Veena) 78 Siddhartha (Prince) 23 Sinhalese society 4 social body 9, 11, 52; boundaries of 44; physical body and 43; primary symbol of 43 social composition 23 – 24 social contradiction, Brahmins vs. nonBrahmins 18 social order: and bodily purity 45; integrity of 45; social body 45 social organisation 110 Sri Lanka 14n2 Sri Lankan society 4 Srinivas, M.N. 52 Starr, Paul 2 Subbarayalu, Y. 8 Sudra 2, 3 Taittriya (Upanisad) 23 Tamil region 118 Thass, Iyothee 65

172 Index Theragatha 21, 22 Roy, Kumkum 24 Therigatha 21, 22 tinda-cheri 119 touch: act of 89, 95; characteristic feature of 89; intrinsic quality of 90; issue of 93; phenomenological experience of 89; purity-pollution duality and 92; sense of 88 touch-un-ability 99; act of translation 123; ‘ideal’ Brahmin 12, 105; issues in translating 144 – 157; renunciation 101; subject-centric nature of 12, 125. see also untouchability unified Brahmin body 54 – 61 untouchability 11, 60, 87, 160; caste order 102 – 108; category of 5; contact and touch 88 – 102; define 3; duality and touch in 92; ‘ideal’ Brahmin 102 – 108; issue of 46; philosophical reading of 87; practice of 3 Karashima, Noboru 119 un-touch sense 3, 5, 9, 12, 36, 42, 56, 59, 60, 70, 80, 84, 93 – 102, 104 – 107, 109, 114, 116, 119, 120, 124, 131 – 137, 139, 142 – 144, 146, 148, 149, 151, 154, 155, 157, 159, 160 untranslatability of mathematics 125 – 131

Vaidika/a-vaidika 7 Vaishnava Acharya 121 Vanika 67 – 69, 75 – 79, 81 varna identity 32 varna scheme 1, 3, 32, 39, 41, 46, 53, 159 varnasramadharma 11, 33, 38, 39, 64, 121 Vedic Brahmanism 8, 18, 20, 23 Vedic cosmology 22 Vedic worldview 17, 32, 33, 36 Velenda (traders or Hetti) 4 vesha Brahmana (pseudo-Brahmin) 65 village based Vedic theology 25 village-centric worldview 32 Vishistadvaita 114, 115 Western philosophical traditions 102 worldviews: ascetic 57, 91, 93; Brahmanical 37, 63, 65, 81, 112, 113, 138, 161; Brahmanism ritualistic 103; of Buddhism 57; householder 56, 57; householdercentric 90; renouncer 56; secular 123; Vedic 17, 32, 33, 36; villagecentric 32 yajna 109 yathartha Brahmana (real or true Brahmin) 65 Yatidharmaprakasa 36, 41 yogi 74, 113, 120 – 122