Caste in the business of death

Radhika Iyengar's book provides a poignant account of the overlooked 'death-care workers' in Benares, an ancient community relegated to the margins of society

Fire on the Ganges: Life Among the Dead in Banaras

Author: Radhika Iyengar

Publisher: Harper Collins

Pages: 352

Price: Rs 599

Banaras stands at the crossroads of life and death. The quaint city of salvation and redemptive waters — where faith and literature, textiles and tourism co-exist — has stood the test of time. Radhika Iyengar, in her debut book Fire on the Ganges resurrects the ancient city of light as seen through the eyes of the sidelined Dalit community of Doms — the corpse-burners or “death-care workers” as old as the city.

At Chand Ghat, where the book is anchored, an invisible line separates the Doms from the Yadavs. Irrespective of economic means, one could be (and often is) as poor as the next person, the “monolith of caste” is heavy. For passers-by and tourists on boat rides, the cries of “Ram nam satya hai” may be accompanied by the loud sound of bells and chants. To them, the city’s enigma lies in its yellowed walls that speak of its eternity and the uneven stairs that rise from the river and connect one ghat to another. Meanwhile, the question of “purity” hides in plain sight; “casteism was everywhere,” as Ms Iyengar writes.

At Manikarnika Ghat, revered for last rites in Hinduism, where pyres burn ceaselessly, and occasionally at the adjacent Harishchandra Ghat, where the electric crematorium stands, often empty, the Doms own the business of death. They facilitate the transaction between life and death as they have for centuries. Although they reassure themselves that this is a noble duty assigned to them by god, the award-winning writer-journalist clearly states the unspoken truth: “It is the caste system, however, that continues to ensure that only the Doms handle the dead.”

Burdened by this tradition, almost all Dom men are reduced to drug addiction or alcoholism to cauterise the revolting smell of melting flesh and to make this ghoulish job bearable. Changing times — such as the unforeseeable Covid-19 lockdowns, or the construction and remodeling of the Kashi Vishwanath Corridor between 2019 and 2021 — do not alter their reality on the ground. Death remains a relentless business for the Doms.

The Dom’s Banaras is full of metaphors: They live in a city where the revered river Ganges flows northward instead of its usual south, as if swimming back to its source, much like the souls of the departed; where shrouds (kafans) wrapped around the dead are picked up by children and brought back to the shopkeepers to be washed and resold; and where the leftover wood from pyres finds its way back to Dom homes, to be used for cooking meals, literally sustaining their livelihoods.

This cycle continues, generation after generation. Education seems to be the only “golden ticket” out; although a difficult choice for children who are pulled out of school and put to work at the ghats, for every earning hand is of use to these deprived families. For those who do find a way out —  such as Bhola, who was the first in the basti to go to a private college, or Lakshaya who successfully earned his way out— do so by shedding all visible traces of their identities. This is not because they were embarrassed by their roots but because of the fear that shadowed it, of humiliation and public retaliation. Despite their efforts, the ghettos often pulled them back. The emotional dissociation that the appearance and maintenance of normality may require is another story; unimaginable for most of us.

Seamlessly aware of her privilege, Ms Iyengar writes a human story, of a community shoved to the back and its people, bearing the brunt of being below, beneath and behind, in society. At the centre are the communities’ women, silenced and with little or no agency. The reality of their plight is not lost on Ms Iyengar. Dolly, widowed at 30 with five children to feed, is one such woman. She triumphs over the stifling patriarchy of her neighbourhood and her own naivety, and emerges a strong, independent woman — the first in her basti to own and run a shop. A working woman is an anomaly in a community where women are kept hidden, their primary function being to produce and raise children. They are required to be covered under a chaddar on the rare occasions they stepped out with their husband’s “permission”.

Researched and written between 2015 and 2023, Fire on the Ganges is testimony to the “unidimensional identity” assigned to (some would say imposed on) the corpse burners of Banaras. In the land of the dead, caste remains immortal; placed above, and often at the cost of, humanity. The reality is little different in the rest of the country, with various pockets of Dalit communities living with an “enduring sense of inferiority”. PhD students commit suicide, school children are beaten to death for polluting wells meant for drinking water, all under the charade of a refutable superiority. It will continue until Indians stop using caste as a marker of identity.
 

The reviewer is a freelance feature writer @read.dream.repeat