The book “My father Baliah” by Y. B Satyanarayana is an eyeopening account of the struggles of the Dalit Yelukati family in rising above impoverishment after generations of segregation and untouchability. The titular father Baliah utilizes the tool of education as a weapon of empowerment. His focus is razor sharp, he understands the power of education as way of ensuring his children break out of the cycle of caste-based oppression and despite setbacks such as failing papers and grades, encourages them to pursue postgraduate studies.
The author Sathiah is born into a large family, as it was with families of those times, and his father Baliah throughout his working life, remains employed at the lower levels of the railways. The role of the railways of the British Raj in securing livelihoods, albeit risky ones, for the Dalit people is explored in great detail. Being a part of the mixed Railways colony and living among other caste Hindus was possibly imperative in breaking down the walls of untouchability at least in the cities. As Sathiah and his brothers get employed, the family and their lifestyles evolve and this is detailed through changes in their food from jowar roti and chilli paste to the inclusion of vegetables and wheat roti. These changes are not confined to food and technology alone and are reflected in the names the author and his siblings later adopt. Sathiah changes his name to Satyanarayana at the behest of a mentor who suggests that this would erase the caste inflections of his name and thereby allow him to build his career without his Dalit origins weighing him down.
In the most poignant stretch in the book, Sathiah implores his readers to empathize with the Dalit struggles with education, he explains the Dalit mind as one that needed to be slowly acclimatized to education and learning as centuries of dehumanizing bonded labour, disenfranchisement and debilitating inferiority complex meant that the spirit of learning and questioning remained shackled within themselves. This intensely personal account is peppered with the accounts of well-wishers and the detractors. At every stage Sathiah acknowledges the support of officers of British Raj, the Mullah who introduces his father to the alphabet, the upper caste friends and the school teachers who played an important role in shaping his life. The author does not caricature or villainize the enforcers of the caste system and instead adopts a benevolent tone in addressing them as people who do not know any better. And so is the story surprisingly apolitical, the book makes its way through decades of turbulent Indian politics and yet, the focus remains on the struggles of the Yelukati family. It takes a while to get used to the style in the book, the author narrates small nuggets of information which seem to lead to something, for instance, at one point, the author and his brother are travelling ticketless by train and have to quickly get off as the TTR comes for a check, or like the time his father moves back to the village to reclaim their inheritance and then you expect details of the court case. There is a sense of the incident leading to some tension which is quietly resolved in a few paragraphs. In this sense, the book reads more like a diary and not the sprawling generational saga that I had thought it would be.
To sum up, the book is a gripping fascinating account that throws much needed light on the plights and struggles of Dalit people in independent India. A must-read!
Aviyal 