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Carrying Namdeo Dhasal's legacy forward on Ambedkar Punyatithi

The long narrative poem in his signature fiery style tears into society for the way it conveniently twists Ambedkar's legacy to suit its own casteist exploitative agenda

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Namdeo Dhasal - whose works bared the ugly, blood-dripping entrails of society's underbelly, disturbing and unshackling an established upper-caste comfort zone which held Marathi literature in a stranglehold from early 13th century - had an over four-decade-long unbroken tradition of writing long-form narrative poetry in honour of Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar every December 6th, his death anniversary. Now Dhasal’s protégé Dalit ideologue, poet and litterateur Vaibhav Chhaya has decided to continue this tradition.

Chhaya, whose anthology of poems, Entire Deleted Sky has got him both critical acclaim and rave reviews says that he has been mulling over putting this poem together for nearly a year.  “What began with the first poem in Golpitha (1972) became a regular feature in all his works since. In fact all the Ambedkar poems have been complied in an anthology Tujhe Bot Dharun Chalalo Mee,” informs Chhaya who adds, “There is so much going on in the country and in Maharashtra that is disturbing and tries to attack the very roots of the movement that Ambedkar created. I have time and again been struck by how so much of what he said and wrote has only gained in relevance in today’s times.”

The long narrative poem in his signature fiery style tears into society for the way it conveniently twists Ambedkar’s legacy to suit its own casteist exploitative agenda. Chhaya points the most striking symbolism in the way even the Ambedkar’s statue is being designed at the new Mumbai memorial.

“As someone who gave an entire people direction, his statues have typically had him pointing out with an extended hand indicating that marginalised educate, mobilise and struggle for equality and dignity. Now the new statue design is going to have him standing with his hands tied back. I wonder why this is being done?”

Namdeo Dhasal, the enfante terrible of Marathi literature was himself full of praise for Chhaya whose subjects and style have often found resonance with Dhasal, his hero.

"I have been reading him for as long as I can remember and its inevitable that a the strong fiery style left its indeible impression on me," says Chhaya who recites a line which had raised a storm when Dhasal wrote it in 1972 in his Golpitha: "Mumbai, majhya priya rande tujhyatun mee phatkya bhananga sarkha jaanar nahi (Mumbai, my beloved whore, I won't leave you in disgrace)."

According to him both Babasaheb (Ambedkar) and ideologues like Dhasal had the foresight to see that the way out of hatred, discrimination and hostility ends at the feet of the the Buddha and his path of peace and compassion. "Even today humanity better pay heed while there is time before we wipe ourselves out from the face of this planet," says the poet who adds, "I wish iconic leaders like them were alive to unify and mobilise the splintered Dalit voice and vote."

"Dada (that's what he calls Dhasal) lit the torch of aggressive assertion for dignity and equality at a time when the movement was beginning to flounder. Caught between caste-persecution and arrogant administrative apathy, the average Ambedkarite found hope and inspiration in the whiplash of Dhasal's poetry. It kept three generations inspired."

Calling the late legend "a rare poet who dared spit fire on the sun with his words," Chhaya modestly downplays his own work. "I am only trying to keep marching with torch that Babasaheb lit and Dada carried with such pride."

Dhasal's wife and celebrated poetess Mallika Amar Sheikh was also full of praise for Chhaya. "I'm happy his legacy is being taken forward," she said. 

मण्या ओवणारी आई म्हणते 
ही तुझी पाटी पेन्सिल
गिरव धडा बाबासाहेबांचा
सुरूवात कर..
आ आंबेडकरांचा 
अन् गिरव त्यासोबतच
घ घामाचा
क कष्टाचा
ल लढ्याचा
स संघर्षाचा...

आता शाळेत बसतात एकाच बाकावर
डॉक्टर, इंजीनिअर अन् सफाई कामागाराची मूलं
शिकतात तेच सारखे धडे
येतो फी-माफीचा फॉर्म
येतो अफजलखानाचा धडा
फिरफिरतात नजरा
बाकं मग इकडून तिकडे सरसरतात
बुक्याचा मार खाऊन मुका
आटपतं वंदे मातरम अन् घास म्हणून पाणी डोळ्यातलं 
गिळलं जातं आतल्याआत...

बा भीमा...

एकांतात असताना मी करतो विचार
आज तू असतास तर.. 
तू फक्त नऊ कोटी जीवांनांच नसतं दिलं अभयदान
तू उगारली असती तुझी वज्रमुठ
अन् सांगितलं असतं ठणकावून
इराक, इराण, सिरीया, व्हिएतनाम, अफगाणिस्तान, रेड कॉरीडॉर
नाहीयेत नावं फक्त युद्धांची
तिथं जमा होऊन येतेय रास मढ्यांची
तू जोडून पाहीली असती ती आपल्याच देशातल्या मढ्यांशी
तू जोडून सांगितला असतास दूवा वैश्विक शोषितांचा
अन् उगारला असतास यल्गार सार्वभौम मुक्तीचा

बा भीमा... तू असतास तर ...
लागला नसता वेळ अंधश्रद्धा विरोधी कायद्याला 
अन् वाचलेही असते दाभोळकर, पानसरे अन् कलबुर्गी
कायदे – न्याय वगैरे तूझ्यासाठी हातचा खेळच
त्यांना जन्माला घालताना तू शिकवलास थॉट 
जगभरातील शोषितांना समान धाग्यावर आणण्याचा
अन् पवित्रा निर्णायक बंडाचा

म्हणूनच...
ते घाबरताहेत तुला अन् तुझ्या सावलीलाही
ते भितात तुझ्या रोखठोक तर्जनीला
जी दिशानिर्देश करतेय सामाजिक न्यायाकडे
जी खुणावतेय प्रगतीच्या मार्गांना
जी सांगतेय विचार स्वतःकडून स्वतंत्रतेकडे
जी चेतवतेय यल्गार
जी रंगवतेय कॅनव्हास लढ्याचा
जी दाखवतेय रस्ता सूर्याचा
ते घाबरताहेत तुला 
कारण तू एकच पूर्ण सूर्य
ज्याच्या हातातल्या एका पुस्तकानं 
त्यांना रोखून धरलं 68 वर्ष 
त्यांना बांधलंय अनंतकाळासाठी 
म्हणून रचतायेत ते कट
तुला बांधतायेत स्मारकात

बा भीमा...
सगळ्यांनाच माहीत असतं
26/11, 7/11, 6/12 
पण बाथे टाकलं जातं विस्मृतीत
भेद पाळला जातो शिवाशिवीचा रमाबाई नगराशी
नी खर्डा, जवखेडा, शिर्डी, फरिदाबाद ब्रेकिंग पुरतं वापरलं जातं
अन् त्यांचा अट्टाहास फक्त स्टेटस अपडेटचा...

सोकावलाय काळ
अन् सोकावलेयत त्याचे मक्तेदार
त्यांनी माणसाला बनवलंय हैवान
त्यांना मजा घ्यायचीये माणूस हरल्याची
अन् गाडलेल्या माणूसकीची

तुझ्या घटनेची खेळी खेळून 
त्यांनी खुन्याला केलं प्रधान
सत्यमेव जयते.. बहुजन हिताय.. बहुजन सुखाय
बिरूद मिरवणारं आसन
खुनी हाताचा सहन करतंय अपमान

मग तिथं राष्ट्रगीत ठरलंच 52 सेकंदापुरतीची राष्ट्रभक्ती 
नी बीफ नाकारण्याचा अट्टाहास ठरला पवित्र नी देशभक्ती
तर नवल त्यात काय ?

तोंडी लावायला कॉर्पोरेटचे दरवाजे उघडलेय थोडेसे
कारण अफर्मेटिव्ह अक्शन नसतोच डिक्शनरीत 
भांडवलदारांना हवीय फक्त
त्यांच्या सोयीनं परवडणारी श्रमशक्ती...
श्रमाची बोली कमी जीवाहून
रिकाम्या पोटानं कष्टणाऱ्यांसाठी 
विचारांपेक्षा मोठी असते रगती
ती रगती जीवंत रहायला दिवसाचं बळ देते
ही काँन्स्पिरसी दिसत नाही भुकेल्या डोळ्यांना
भूक मात करते विचारांवर
नी आम्ही बनतो लुंपेन
पोटाची भूक करत जाते हलाल जीवंत माणसांना

चिरत जाते दगडाचंही काळीज लेकीबाळांसाठी
तसं पोट असतंच भूकाळलेल्या राक्षसांचं आगार
दोन वेळच्या भाकरीत गुंतवून करून टाकलाय आमचा बूर्झ्वा
पण, खरंच आमच्याठाई तेवढंही औदार्य नाही
की यावं फिरून तुझ्या पायी, मागावी माफी 
करावा कबूल गुन्हा 
की मानली भाकरी मोठी स्वाभिमानापेक्षा
की हरलो आम्ही अर्थकारणाच्या गणितात
नी निष्प्रभ ठरलो जात-वर्गांच्या दऱ्या सांधायला

नव-ब्राह्मण म्हणतील मला असहिष्णू
फिकीर नाही
जर हवी असेल सर्वांनाच सहिष्णूता
त्यांनी सिद्ध करावी स्वतःची मानवता

रोखून धरावेत हिऱ्यांचे दागीने
ज्यात मला दिसतात फक्त शस्त्रधारी 
अन् लहानपण हरवलेली काळी मुलं
भोकं पाडावी लेवीश क्रुजर्सना जी नासवतात पर्यावरण
फोडून टाका स्टॉक मार्केटच्या रेड्याचे वृषण
जो संपत्तीच्या असमान वाटपाचं प्रतिक 
टेस्टेस्टेरॉनसारख नेतोय वाढवत
उद्धवस्त करून टाका ते सारे मॉल्स आणि चकाकती उंची दुकाने 
जिथे कधी काळी वसत होता कामगार 
आता त्याची थडगी सुद्धा बेसमेंटमध्ये विरलीयेत
बंद करा विकत घेणं प्लेबॉय अन् सबस्क्राईब करणं पॉर्न साईट     
जी आहेत महाद्वारं स्त्री-शोषणाची
एक तरी दगड भिरकावून मारा त्या मल्टिनॅशनल्सवर 
ज्यांनी चोरल्या नद्याच्या नद्या, आणि जमीनी, डोंगर आणि हवा
टांगलं शेतकऱ्यांना फासावर
उद्धवस्त केली सुपीक जमीन जीएम फुडनं 
आणि हडप केलं कामागारांचं वेतन
या साथीला, तुरूंग फोडायला
ज्यात कैद आहेत कित्येक पूर्वास्पृश्य फक्त
जातीची कैद भोगत पुन्हा पुन्हा ट्रायलची वाट पाहत...

बा भीमा
मला माहीतीये ह्यात ते येणार नाहीत कुणी
त्यांचा अपराधबोध छळतोय त्यांना 
गिल्ट काँन्शीयसनेस
मी म्हटलं आंबेडकरी त्यांनी म्हटलं महारच 
मी म्हटलं संविधानवादी त्यांनी म्हंटलं नक्षली
मी म्हटलं स्वतःला पुरोगामी त्यांनी म्हटलं जातीयवादी

हो आम्ही हरणार नाही, थांबणार नाही...
तुझी प्रेरणा चेतवतेय 
अन् राहील निरंतर
मनात आणलं अस्तंस तर तू घेऊ शकला अस्तास सूड 
तुझ्या सहस्त्रांतील दुश्मनांचा
पण तू दरियादिल बादशहा
दुश्मनाच्या ओंजळीतही टाकलंस दान प्रेमाचं

बा भीमा... 
6 डिसेंबर 2015 ला भरलाय पुन्हा सोहळा कृतज्ञतेचा
पण तुझ्या जागेवर उभा राहणारा सूर्य़ जन्माला येणं आता शक्य नाही
तूझ्या निग्रही छायेखाली नांदणारे असंख्य समुद्र
वाकवत राहतीलच या तुफानी संकटांना
बाबा, तुझी लेकरं साधीभोळी
संत, महामानव, युगंधर यांपेक्षाही तू 
खूप काही सर्वांसाठी
तुझा शब्द न शब्द जागवतो ऊर्जा
वादळात झाडं उन्मळून पडावी 
एवढी शक्ती भरत जाते हातांत 
ही हवा, पाणी, जमीन, वारा, आकाश सारं काही 
गदगदून जातं फक्त तुझ्या असण्यानं...
गदगदून जातं फक्त तुझ्या असण्यानं...

(English translation by lyricist Yogesh Damle) 

My mother, while stringing beads, says,
"Take your slate and pencil",
and revise Babasaheb's lesson
A for Ambedkar
S for Sweat
S for Struggle
T for Toil
F for Fight

Now in schools, children of 
Doctors, Engineers and Conservancy Staff,
sit abreast, learn the same lessons.
Fee remission forms arrive,
followed by history lessons.
Glances are exchanged,
seats are shuffled
Silent punches are showered in the morning assembly
over the national song,
and we resist tears deep within.

Aye Bheema,
I reflect in solitude,
if you were around today,
You wouldn't have stopped at rescuing ninety million souls,
You would've brandished your iron fist,
and uttered with aplomb,
'Iran, Iraq, Syria, Nam, Afghanistan and the Red Corridor,
aren't mere warfields. Those are heaps of corpses.'
You would've connected the dots,
between their heaps and ours,
You would've narrated the sequence of global exploitation,
and uttered the clarion call of sovereign independence.

Aye Bheema, if you were around,
The Black Magic bill wouldn't have languished,
Dabholkar, Pansare and Kalburgi would still be amongst us.
Acts and justice were the toys you crafted,
while passing a thought to weave the downtrodden together,
and wage the final war.

Exactly hence,
They're scared of you and your shadow,
They're scared of your finger,
pointing towards social justice,
beckoning portals of development,
leading thoughts from self to sovereignty,
stoking a blaze,
painting a canvas of strife,
tracing the sun's trajectory.

They're scared of you,
for you are the only true sun,
one of whose works,
stalled them for 68 years, bound them for eternity.
Hence they're scheming now,
to entomb you in a memorial.

Aye Bheema,
All know of 26/11, 7/11, 6/12
But 'Bathè is pushed into oblivion
Ramabai Nagar's gore is forgotten as a ghetto,
Kharda,  Jawkheda,  Shirdi and Fareedabad are just fleeting flashes on bulletins,
Just enough to feed vain updates on Social Media

The days are as bad as those who seized them,
They've made demons of men
They're enjoying the defeat of man,
Cheering at the demise of humanity

They've played your rules to anoint a murderous monarch
A throne carved with lofty lines
'Truth alone triumphs'
'Betterment of the masses
Bliss to the masses' 
Is being sullied by a bloodied hand
Is it a wonder that our anthem is reduced to a fifty-two second fix to patriotism
and insistance upon beef ban, its holiest façade? 

A toe-space in the corporate has been a saving grace.
'Affirmative action' doesn't exist in the dictionary
Cheap, convenient labour is what
capitalists seek
Lives are bid cheaper than labour
Bread drives us 
Morsels win aginst the mind,
for they are who fuel the day
A conspiracy hungry eyes miss.
Bread reigns over the brains 
We become lumpen,
The fire in bellies, bleeds those it consumes. 
It melts hearts of stone for the famished kids. 
The stomach, is but, a haunt of hungry ghouls.
The bourgeois is enslaved to two square meals.
But we even lack the grace, 
To beg at your feet for forgiveness,
To confess that rations got rated higher than respect for self.


We lost against the force of economics
and failed to bridge the chasms of class

The neo brahmins would diss me as intolerant
So be it... 
To earn tolerance for all, 
Let them prove their humanity 


Stop the glimmer of diamond jewellery
whose cuts only reflect 
African Childhood lost in weaponry
Punch holes in cruise liners
leaving a slick of pollution in their wake
Castrate the stock market bull
Who's fuelling material disparity like a flush of testosterone


Demolish the malls and the glitzy shops
Where labourers toiled once
Their graves bite the basement dust
Unsubscribe from Playboy and porn sites
Icons of women's objectification
Hurl at least a stone at the multinationals,
Who stole rivers, lands, mountains and air
and hung the farmer by the noose.

GM crops stripped the earth,
Looted the wages.
Come, break the prisons
Housing untouchables condemned to untouchability,
To face one trial after another

Aye Bheema,
There won't be many takers for this call
They're consumed with guilt
They read 'Ambedkariite' as 'Untouchable'
'Constitutionist' as 'Naxalite'
'Progressive' as 'Casteist'

Neither shall we give up, nor shall we wait,
You shall inspire and charge us up
You could've avenged thousands of your foes,
But aye, large-hearted king,
You gave them love too

Aye Bheema,
This December 6th is another ceremony of gratitude,
But there won't rise another sun like you
Thousands of waves under your shade,
Will defy tempests of  travesty
Baba, for your innocent kids,
You're bigger than any saint or seer
Your words are powerhouses, strengthening arms to uproot trees,
Our elements and our world,
Are overwhelmed with your presence

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