Since the video of Pravesh Shukhla urinating on Dashmat Rawat went viral, there has been an outpouring of outrage against Shukla accompanied by a steady stream of sympathy for Rawat, a daily wage labourer belonging to a tribal community in Madhya Pradesh.
Symptomatic of society’s extreme reaction to the incident is the actions of the state. Authorities, as is in vogue nowadays, were quick to bulldoze Shukla’s house. On the other hand, Madhya Pradesh Chief Minister Shivraj Singh Chouhan himself met Rawat, apologised for what happened, garlanded him and washed his feet — a beautifully-picturised gesture of atonement in an election year.
What has been lost in all this, however, is the voice of Dashmat Rawat. This is not to say that he was not spoken to. But as the media shoved microphones in front of him, it failed to ask: What did he really want?
Did Rawat, whose video has now been seen by millions in India and abroad, want to talk at all? Did he want to provide soundbites about the indignity he faced? Did he want to be part of a publicity stunt where the CM would try and “make up” for what happened? Did he want to praise the chief minister for his actions? Or did he simply wish to be left alone?
We do not know the answers to these questions — we never will. That is where the tragedy of this incident lies. With his action, Pravesh Shukla stripped Rawat of his agency and humanity. Unfortunately, the spectacle that has followed has, despite its more respectful and contrite character, done the same in a larger sense.
CM Chouhan’s actions left Rawat with no choice — to be left alone, to get on with his life. To do “good politics”, the chief minister made Rawat part of a spectacle in which he likely had little say. He became a silent figure around whom an election campaign will likely be fought, and an object of pity — all to assuage society’s conscience.
What Pravesh Shukla did was deplorable. Words do not exist to truly capture the depravity of the man. But as the nation turned into an angry mob, bellowing for “justice”, it forgot how we got here. Despite how we might want to view him, Shukla is not an aberration. He is a product of Indian society’s most deep-rooted malaise: Caste and the impunity that accompanies caste privilege.
While Shukla’s act might have been extreme, his actions and sense of impunity stem from the same structural violence that the unprivileged are subjected to on a daily basis. It is this very structure that maintains the privilege that many upper castes, including myself, benefit from.
This same logic can be applied to a host of other actions, many of which are extremely commonplace and not overtly “violent”, as we understand the term. Take the practice of upper-caste households having different utensils for workers. The practice is born out of untouchability and ideas of purity and pollution. At the same time, it is the very practice which establishes and maintains these ideas in the first place.
As Norwegian sociologist John Galtung defines it, violence is “the cause of the difference between the potential and the actual, between what could have been and what is.” Just like Shukla’s action denied Rawat basic dignity, having different cups for servants denies them humanity at equal terms to oneself.
In our reactions to the video, we have ignored the violence we perpetuate and benefit from in our daily lives. In making Pravesh Shukla a “monster”, we have absolved ourselves and society for his creation.
arjun.sengupta@expressindia.com
