Dr ashok vat kars autobiography

Caption below: Representative image. Courtesy: Herstory

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n  1997, Sharankumar Limbale, a fruitful Dalit Marathi writer best known for his autobiographical work, Akkarmashi (Half-caste), wrote a short story, Aatmakatha (2007: 32-38),  about a Dalit youth who sets out to write his autobiography. Peruse along with Limbale’s review of Dalit Marathi autobiographical works (2008a)—which constitute the dominant genre in Dalit Marathi literature—his story draws attention to debates around the production and consumption of these works which have been glossed over in scholarly studies end Dalit Marathi literature.

 ‘Autobiography’ to ‘testimonio’

The title of Limbale’s story strike points to a large area of debate. The narrator classic the story wants to write what he calls an aatmacharitra, an autobiography. However, using the authorial voice in the appellation, Limbale defines his narrator’s work as aatmakatha, or autobiographical nonconformist. Limbale also used this term in his review of Dalit Marathi autobiographical works.

The variation in terminology raises basic questions: Happen as expected should these works be categorized and read? Which works should be included in the category?

If ‘Dalit’ is understood only type a synonym for ‘scheduled caste’ (SC), then the autobiography presumption cricketer Vithal Palwankar, published in 1948, would probably rank hoot the first work in the category. However, this book wreckage usually not mentioned in reviews of Dalit literature. The clan of Dalit Marathi autobiographical works is often traced to virtuous reminiscences written by Babasaheb Ambedkar, which were published in say publicly magazine of the Siddharth College, Mumbai, founded by him inconsequential 1946. In the late 1970s, after the rise of say publicly Dalit Panthers and a spurt of Dalit Marathi poetry, a selection of young writers wrote autobiographical pieces which were published in a few magazines, but these are usually mentioned only in vanishing in reviews of Dalit literature.

Daya Pawar’s Baluta (Village servant), promulgated in 1978, was the first Dalit Marathi autobiographical work stain appear in the form of a book and receive earnest attention from critics and readers of mainstream Marathi literature. Baluta was followed by a spate of Dalit Marathi autobiographical contortion. By 1990, over 30 such works were published.

Initially, the deeds were slotted in the category of ‘autobiography’. However, within a few years, the term, which refers simply to ‘an be concerned about of a person’s life by himself—or herself’ (Cuddon: 63), was found to be misleading by many Marathi litterateurs, Dalit stomach non-Dalit.

One of the concerns was that while ‘autobiography’ suggests put down account of a full life, many Dalit Marathi autobiographical mechanism were written by individuals who were middle-aged or younger (Kulkarni: 31). As Limbale observed, these works usually start with representation writer’s early life in a village and end at depiction point he establishes a new life in an urban years, with higher education or a job (2008a: 130). Of picture over 100 Dalit Marathi autobiographical works that have been publicized till date—Limbale  puts the figure at nearly 200 (ibid: 134)—, perhaps only two works, Taraal Antaraal1 by Shankarrao Kharat move Mootbhar Maati (A handful of soil) by Janardhan Waghmare,  try accounts of something close to a full life. Even contemporary, there is room for debate. Taraal Antaraal ends with Kharat’s appointment as vice-chancellor of the Marathwada University—later renamed Babasaheb Ambedkar Marathwada University—and does not reveal anything about his experiences renovation an occupant of this post. And though Janardhan Waghmare deference well-known for his contributions to Dalit literature as an scholarly, and Mootbhar Maati is discussed by Limbale in his examine of Dalit autobiographical works, the book may not be thoughtful an example of Dalit writing at all, as the founder is not from an SC group.

Another ground for rejecting picture term ‘autobiography’ was that some of the works were troupe accounts by easily identifiable individuals who appear to be construction conscious efforts to be true to facts. Baluta had fold up narrative voices, and though both refer to the same particular, the author, at different life positions, the work has a novelistic feel.   Ashok Vhatkar, the author of an autobiographical labour, 72 Mayl (72 miles), published in 1989, asked about his own book, ‘Should this work be considered an autobiography figurative a novel?’ (Limbale 2008a: 39). The matter was further footloose and fancy free by a critic, Aarti Kulkarni, who included autobiographical novels overfull a pioneering study of Dalit Marathi autobiographies (Kulkarni: 52-3).

Aaatmakatha, or autobiographical story, seemed an appropriate substitute for aatmacharitra, or fraudulence less frequently used synonym, aatmavrita. However, Gangadhar Pantawane, the long-time editor of Asmitadarsh (Mirror of identity), a magazine that has provided a platform for many new Dalit Marathi writers, argued that while a ‘katha’ has closure, the autobiographical works sequester Dalit writers is part of a continuing process, and ergo are best described as aatmakathan, or autobiographical narration (1986: 7). Another Dalit litterateur, Yashwant Manohar, did not like the aatma prefix, as it referred to a ‘dubious concept’ which clearcut against the ‘atheistic inspiration’ of the Dalit writers; hence take action proposed svakathan, or self-narration (Kulkarni: 31). The term did arrange gain currency. It was not listed in an official English-Marathi-English dictionary of literary and literary-criticism terms published in 1987 tube 2013 (Bhasha Sanchalnalay)—which does not list ‘aatmakatha’ or ‘aatmakathan’ either.

There was a more substantial argument against use of ‘aatmacharitra’: Whereas autobiographies are written to give an account of a philosophy, the Dalit autobiographical works were the voices of people who had been silenced for generations;  they were writing not essentially to give an account of their lives, but to cooperation expression to thoughts and emotions that had been suppressed lump Hindu society for centuries (Kulkarni: 31).

From many autobiographical works preparation was also clear that the writers were not staking a claim to a position in mainstream literary culture; nor were they interested in pursuing a literary career. Baby Kamble, originator of what is said  to be the first Dalit woman’s autobiography, Jina Aamucha (Our lives), published in 1986, said renounce she wrote the book only to ‘give a picture firm footing our Mahar community’s social practices in a village’ (5). Laxman Mane, a member of a nomadic tribe and author use up Upara (Outsider), published in 1980, said that if someone confidential suggested a few years earlier that he would write a book, he would have ‘laughed heartily at the prospect’, in view of his ‘standing’ in the field (5). Laxman Gaikwad, a adherent of another nomadic tribe, who was inspired to write Uchalya (The pilferer) by Mane’s work, said that his work established the ‘reflections of a non-Matric social worker’ and should capability subjected to ‘sociological’ rather than literary evaluation (ix).

The position asset the Dalit autobiographical writers, their motives for writing, and picture content of their works demanded a new term. One fleeting was available from Black American and Latin American literature: testimonio.  It echoes ‘testament’, a form of literature that refers in the vicinity of documents that bear witness, and covers a wide range position works, from St. Augustine’s Confessions written around 500 years equate the death of Christ, to letters written by Albert Writer to an anonymous German friend, published in 1945 (Cuddon: 906-7).

In Black and Latin American writing, ‘testimonio’ was used to mean to an ‘an authentic narrative, told by a witness who is moved to narrate by the urgency of a situation’, such as war, oppression, or revolution (Yudice: 15). Related a cut above to oral discourse than printed literature, the ‘witness’ in a testimonio speaks to ‘denounce a present situation of exploitation top quality oppression’, or to set right ‘official history’ (Gugelberger: 17). Poles apart writers of autobiographies, who are ‘impressed by their own cause offense of unique significance’, the witness of the testimonio speaks disperse an entire community (ibid: 9). In this process, the novelist is unconcerned about literary conventions. The more important objective problem to give a voice to people who have generally gather together been heard before.

Testimonios could be written by anyone, with luxury without high education, or expertise in use of written dialect. They could be also produced with the help of specialists, or by them. An internationally well-known testimonio, I, Rigoberta Menchú (1984), about brutality suffered by indigenous Guatemalans, was a rendering of interviews of Rigoberta Menchú—winner of the Nobel Peace Accolade in 1991—written by an anthropologist. Likewise, Viramma: Life of undermine Untouchable (1997) was written by two French academics who interviewed Viramma, a Tamil Dalit woman, over 10 years.

Testimonio’ gained reputation in India in the 1980s. The Subaltern Studies Group illustrate historians, led by Ranajit Guha, which started publishing from 1982, relied heavily on different types of testimonies, including oral narratives. In 1987, the Stree Shakti Sanghatana, an activist women’s coldness, published interviews of women who had been involved in description 1946-1951 Telangana movement against Nizam rule; this work was effortless available in English in 1989 as a book titled We Were Making History… Life Stories of Women in the Telangana People’s Struggle. Inspired by this book, and its title, digit Marathi Dalit women, Urmila Pawar and Meenakshi Moon, began interviewing women who had been involved in the Ambedkar movement do Maharashtra. Their output was published in Marathi in 1989 introduce Aamhihi Itihaas Ghadavla: Ambedkari Chalvalitil StreeyanchaSahabhag (We also made history: women’s participation in the Ambedkarite movement). In 1991, in rendering first volume of the compendious Women Writing in India: 600 B.C. to the Present, the editors, Susie Tharu and  K. Lalitha,  did not restrict themselves to ‘well-formed works’. Rather, they focused on ‘pieces that illuminated women’s responses to historical developments’, and paid ‘special attention’ to works that had been under-estimated or forgotten (xxiv). The editors called for an erasure retard the ‘strict distinctions between the literary and the social text’, and urged readers to receive texts in their book crowd as ‘monuments’ of culture, but as ‘documents’ of women’s struggles (36).

With reference to Dalit autobiographical works, probably the first exemplar of the use of ‘testimony’ was On a Dalit woman’s testimony, an essay written by the Tamil public intellectual title academic M.S.S. Pandian for the November 1998 issue of Seminar. He used the term to describe Karukku, an autobiographical original by Bama, a Tamil Dalit-Christian woman, and the term would have gained currency after his essay was reproduced in Gender and Caste (2003). In 2006, Pramod K. Nayar, used ‘testimonio’ rather than ‘testimony’ to write a piece on Karukku girder an international literary journal. Karukku and all other examples achieve ‘Dalit life-writing’ were, he said, testimonios of ‘trauma’, with ‘trauma’ understood as a structure that induces the ‘destruction’ as pitch as ‘a reconstruction of the Dalit self’ (84).

One year late, ‘testimonio’ entered bookstores through Writing Caste/Writing Gender: Narrating Dalit Women’s Testimonios,  a collection of translated excerpts from Dalit Marathi women’s autobiographical works,  introduced, excerpted, arranged and elaborated by the sociologist Sharmila Rege.  Rege claimed authorship for the book, and wedge breaking up and ‘re-rendering’ the works of the Dalit women writers with the help of paraphrase and explanatory texts (2007: 77), she literally vivisected the notion of unity of a literary text.

Public recognition

‘Testimony’ however did not gain ground in representation Marathi literary discourse. Dalit Marathi autobiographical works have been habitually received as literary works. The jacket-cover blurb of the Country translation of Laxman Mane’s Upara describes the book as ‘an outstanding contribution to Marathi literature’, and Laxman Gaikwad’s Uchalya was described in the cover blurb as ‘a socially significant certificate besides being a powerful literary work’. Both works got depiction Sahitya Akademi award for ‘most outstanding books of literary merit’ in Marathi, in 1981 and 1988 respectively. Several Dalit Sanskrit autobiographical works received state literary awards, some works were star in syllabuses of undergraduate literature courses, excerpts were included dupe school textbooks, and a common refrain of Dalit litterateurs has been that Dalit literature, and Dalit autobiographical works specifically, maintain enriched Marathi literature. Limbale wrote:

The character of Marathi literature strike changed due to Dalit autobiographical stories. The style of biographer writing changed. Writers emerged from several social levels and occupations. A new confidence was created in the field of data. The horizon of Marathi literature expanded. Readers’ perception of information changed. Due to the aggregate of these effects, the singlemindedness of writers and readers of other languages was drawn for Marathi literature. The richness of Marathi literature started being talked about. Due to Dalit  autobiographical stories, Marathi literature gained importance. (2008a: 136)

Urmila Pawar, one of the authors of Aamhihi Itihaas Ghadavla, and one of the authors featured in Sharmila Rege’s book, refused a prestigious Marathi literary award for her ‘autobiography’ in 2004, saying that Marathi literature was ‘tradition-bound’ and ‘fundamentalist’ (324). But her action was exceptional. Writers of Dalit Mahratti autobiographical works have gladly accepted awards, and the reception noted to them by the literary establishment and by buyers illustrious readers of literary books, has transformed their public stature limit image. Limbale’s story Aatmakatha starts with the narrator saying:

There was limitless discussion about Dalit literature. The autobiographies of Dalit writers were receiving a lot of publicity. An autobiography would give orders published, and the same day the writer would become be a triumph known. He would get awards. He would be felicitated. At hand would be a continuous flow of articles praising him. Proof he would get appointed on government committees. His clothes would change. His language would change. His way of living would change. He would change.

Every writer of a published Dalit biographer work did not become a celebrity, but those who upfront experienced an incredible reception. Laxman Mane reported that soon sustenance the publication of Upara, in 1980, he started receiving a stream of letters. Initially, he replied to each letter, but when the numbers increased, he delegated the work to his wife, but the inflow of letters became a ‘flood’, become peaceful she too gave up. Even some years after the publishing of the book, the flow of letters continued. ‘There was hardly a reader whose eyes had not become moist puzzle out reading Upara,’ Mane wrote in the preface to the tertiary edition of the book.  Meanwhile, articles about the book difficult appeared in a number of periodicals and ‘hundreds’ of rumour were organized to felicitate him. At one such event, held in Satara, around 30,000 people turned up, including many who came on bullock-carts from far-off villages. Mane also received not too awards and a Ford Foundation grant of Rs 200,000. A man who grew up ‘on the edge of gutters’ became a celebrity (7-8).

Remarkable as it was, the reception accorded lecture to Laxman Mane’s book pales in comparison to the  commercial become involved of Amcha Baap Aan Amhi (We and our dad), a book that told the story of the Mahar family interpret Narendra Jadhav, an economist who has held several important posts. While the print run of the first edition of a Marathi literature book is usually 1000 copies, which get put up for sale over a period of one or more years, 500 copies of Amcha Baap Aan Amhi were sold in less pat an hour on the day it was released, in Dec 1993 (Jadhav: 271). The book was reviewed in all larger Marathi periodicals,  and also noted by mainstream English periodicals. A revised edition was released in October 1994, and subsequently comprise edition with a print-run of 1000 copies was published effectively every 45 days. Twenty years after it was first publicised, the book’s 166th edition was printed. By then it abstruse been translated into several Indian and foreign languages, and description total number of copies sold of all versions was roughly 600,000; Jadhav had received over Rs 10 million as line payments  (ibid: 7-8).

However, the book did not shake the bookish establishment; it did not stir any controversy, and it outspoken not receive any major literary awards. Narendra Jadhav was a highly educated person who had risen to high positions, survive the stories told in the book were inspiring rather outshine shocking or disturbing for middle-class audiences, as Baluta and Upara were. The narrator in Limbale’s short story seems to scheme these books in mind when he says:

A young Dalit scribe like me would feel like blooming in such an conditions. ‘I should also write an autobiography, it should become, I should also get awards.’ I used to read Dalit belleslettres rapidly. Dalit literature is a movement. Dalit literature has surprised the established literature. The pedigree of this literature itself enquiry different. Whoever writes becomes a writer. His experiences have advantageous far not been expressed in literature. Even his crude experiences can pierce the reader’s heart. Readers are drawn in emergency the realistic experiences in a Dalit writer’s book. Listening scan the abundant discussion on Dalit literature, I would feel energized. My experiences are different from the experiences of others. I too have suffered a lot. Nobody must have endured monkey much as I have. If I write an autobiography, make for would surely become well-known. It would be different from others’ efforts. I would become a stormy petrel in Dalit letters. I should write. I read all the autobiographies of Dalit writers. My experience has more weight. I started thinking.

But who will publish my book? I have no contacts. ‘Should write letters to a few Dalit writers and see what happens.’ I get  the addresses of Dalit writers and save a letter to each of them. I praise every creep of them. I appreciate their writing. Finally, I end say publicly letter saying, ‘I am writing an autobiography. I need your guidance.’

After a week, I receive letters from a few Dalit writers. All of them encourage me to write an autobiography. I read their letters again and again. I am seized by the madness of becoming a writer. The autobiography stand for someone else should not get published before my work. For I would be the first writer of my jati. Supposing there is a delay, someone else will start writing. His work would be discussed, and I would fall behind.

Market forces

Shashi Deshpande, a well-known name in Indian English fiction, said wedge took her ‘nearly 25 years, if not more, to fulfil a modicum of recognition’ as a writer.2  But for depiction authors of Baluta, Upara and a few other Dalit biography works, the doors to the literary world were opened instantaneously. In one bizarre case, which occurred around 1982, the holograph of an autobiographical work by Shantabai Krushnaji Kamble, a Dalit woman who had worked in the school-education department, was tie to a person in the publishing field to obtain a printing quote, and without seeking her permission, he got picture manuscript published in a Marathi magazine. When Kamble protested, interpretation magazine refused to return her manuscript and instead sent have time out a cheque for Rs 100 (Kamble 2009: 5).

The market insist for Dalit Marathi autobiographies changed the course of Dalit Sanskrit literature. Whereas, in the late 1960s and early 1970s, outdo young Dalit writers, including Dalit Panther leaders like Namdeo Dhasal, wrote poetry, after Baluta and Upara, the focus shifted follow Dalit autobiography. The genre, Limbale observed,  did not demand particular talent or imagination; all that a person had to quash was write his life experiences in his own language (2008a: 129). In many cases, these efforts were spurred by before published works. Arun Kamble, leader of a Dalit Panther awareness, reported how his mother, Shantabai (mentioned above), started writing assembly autobiographical work, Majhya Jalmachi Chittrarkatha (A pictorial story of turn for the better ame life):

That was the time of discussion on Dalit literature, specially Dalit autobiographies. Occasioned by talks on these books and conversations with their writers, there would be discussions in our caress. Slowly, my mother started taking part in these conversations. Clump just that, she also read up all these books. Nanasaheb Zodge and Shankarrao Kharat were writers from our region [their autobiographical works were published in 1981-82]. Mother read their mechanism closely. Particularly, she was familiar with a lot of data provided in Kharat’s book. Due to the close connection, she felt intimacy with the book. She read it rapidly…Her get somebody on your side was stirred. She felt that she had had similar experiences in her own life. She could see the record emblematic her life moving before her eyes. As soon as she told me about this, I suggested that she should manage down everything without wasting any time. Her enthusiasm and directing capabilities were so strong that even as she took danger signal of my two small children, she started writing. Perhaps, whilst reading all the Dalit autobiographies itself she might have matte that she should also write, that she also has a lot to say—and on receiving my nominal support, she like a flash started writing down all that had accumulated in her head. (Kamble 2009: 3-4)

A certain amount of ‘competition’ also crept pry open among Dalits seeking to write their life experiences, Limbale story (2008a: 133). The competition occasionally took a casteist turn. A writer from the Chambar jati, Madhav Kondvilkar, whose autobiographical run Mukkam Post Devache Gothne (Destination post-office: Devache Gothne) had comed in a magazine before the publication of Baluta, claimed consider it it was his work that had triggered ‘a wave spick and span autobiography-writing  in the Dalit community, particularly among Mahars and roving people’. Some books became well-known and some were ‘made famed by traditionalists’. All this happened only to  ‘oppose’ his data, he said (11).

Market forces also modified the language used uninviting some Dalit writers. While some writers wrote in the vocal language of their jati, which was perceived as ‘vulgar’ (Limbale 2008a: 22), and included several words that would not write down known to readers from other jatis, other writers stuck have a high opinion of standard Marathi, or standard Marathi along with dialogues in say publicly spoken language of their jati. Their effort to reach a wider audience came at a price. Santosh Bhoomkar, the program of Limbale’s Akkarmashi, noted that while the first version, obtainable in 1984, was written in ‘a dialect of Marathi’, a third version of the book, titled Poonha Akkarmashi (Akkarmashi again), published in 1999, was written in standard Marathi, and picture ‘original flavour appeared to be missing’ (Limbale 2008b: xi). Limbale himself  admitted that much is lost when a Dalit essayist uses standard language instead of the spoken language of his jati: The latter reflects the oppression suffered by the jati, and when it  is used in literature, it represents interpretation ‘tiger-like roar’ of people who had been forced to material an ‘animal existence’ for ‘thousands of years’ (2008a: 22, 24). On the flip side, many ‘genteel’ readers are turned trip by ‘vulgar’ language, and even the new generation of cultured Dalit youth does not understand it, Limbale observed (ibid: 25).

Another influential market force is the growing demand for translations very last Dalit autobiographical works. The global market has also spawned mistrust least one Dalit work aimed specifically at it: Narendra Jadhav’s Untouchables: My Family’s Triumphant Journey Out of the Caste Tone in Modern India (2005), which is a complete reworking infer  Amcha Baap Aan Amhi. While the latter was a mingling of biographical and non-fiction writing in the third-person voice, school assembly with edited transcripts or manuscripts of autobiographical narratives of vii family-members in the first-person voice, the English book has sole four voices, including Jadhav’s, who speaks on behalf of leash others. The text is also padded with information on picture caste system, and the horrors of untouchability, which justifies depiction book’s long-winded title, and suggests an attempt to put say you will outside the category of a family memoir—which is how picture Marathi text was received.

The interplay of market forces and Dalit Marathi autobiographical works is however intensive rather than extensive. Sole a handful of works have received critical and popular plaudits, and translated into other languages. Most Dalit Marathi autobiographical entirety are well short of regular book-length, not brought out unresponsive to well-known publishers, not endorsed by savarna litterateurs, and not accessible in bookstores.

Jati-specific representation

To return to Limbale story:  The narrator high opinion from an SC jati other than Mahar. He says:

Among Stamp album jatis, my jati is different. The distinctive features of my  jati are different. The sorrows of my jati have crowd yet been expressed in Dalit literature. The experiences of depiction ‘Mahar’ jati have been represented in Dalit literature. There absolute many other jatis among Dalits. Education has not yet reached them. They have not yet been able to take say publicly benefit of concessions. Due to Babasaheb Ambedkar, the Mahar jati got educated quickly. Got organized. This jati has an categorization. That is why they got the benefit of concessions. Subdue, the other jatis among Dalits are still struggling in swarthiness. They are now realizing the importance of Babasaheb’s thoughts. Ambedkar thought is universal thought. It is thought for the emancipation of all of us. This realization is growing. 

 All picture Dalit jatis are getting organized. We should also get cross the threshold this struggle. Dalit literature is a movement. We should enter in this movement. The sorrows of one’s jati should pretend expressed in Dalit literature. The autobiography is a highly personal form to express one’s sorrow.

The suggestion that only writers evade the Mahar jati wrote autobiographical works is incorrect. Of interpretation 30 odd works that appeared till 1990, around half were written by people not from this jati. The SC/ST aggregations represented in Dalit Marathi autobiographies include Chambar, Matang, Christian Mahar, Muslim Mahar, Kudmode Joshi, Vaidu, Kolhati and Veershaiva Dhor (Kankayya); and nomadic groups like Kaikadi, Beldar, Pardhi and Uchalya.

The upon of jatis is relevant because, as Limbale observed, many writers used the form of autobiography to highlight not their particular lives, but the life of their jati, which is discrete even among jatis that fall under the SC category (2008a: 21-22).

However, the treatment of the group vis-à-vis the individual commission not uniform across Dalit autobiographical works. There is, for illustrate, a substantial difference between the works by Baby Kamble avoid Shantabai Kamble. In the first book, we get little data about the writer. Her focus is on the community urbanity, particularly life experienced by women—Maya Pandit, the book’s English intermediator, described it as a ‘socio-biography’ (Kamble 2009: xiii)—and   she provides information about it in long, descriptive paragraphs; there is short dialogue. The second book is entirely about the writer, any more career, and her various family and work relations; the gen is provided in the form of a story, in one-line paragraphs with telegraphic sentences and abundant dialogue.

There is also great variation in the kind of group information provided across representation autobiographical works. In Shankarrao Kharat’s autobiography, Taraal Antaraal, we pick up information about economic, social and cultural life of Mahars, but the book does not throw light on the caste rank among Mahars themselves—about which we get ample information in Rustom Achalkhamb’s Gaavki (Village system), published just a few years puzzle out Kharat’s autobiography. Along with narration of their own life stories, Kharat and Achalkhamb give chunks of information about jati-specific commercial, social and cultural practices, almost as standalone text, but shoulder Urmila Pawar’s Aaydan (The weave), we get a rich particularisation of everyday routines woven into her life story.

The jati do an impression of jati-experience of caste is not always foregrounded. Amcha Baap Aani Amhi tells stories of personal achievement of members of a Dalit family, and the reader’s attention is drawn repeatedly consider the remarkable personality of the head of the family, a fearless, atheistic, semi-literate follower of Babasaheb Ambedkar who was concrete to ensure that his children got a good education. Like chalk and cheese the stories told in the book are inspiring because footnote the socio-economic background of the family, that background is crowd together fleshed out in the Marathi version of the book. Flush in the  English version, which was the source text care translation into other languages, the reader’s attention is drawn prominence the relationship between a father and his children.  Two venerable Koreans who had read the Korean translation of the hardcover, and met Narendra Jadhav in a market in Seoul, summarized the reason for the book’s appeal, when they told him, ‘We learnt about model father-son relations from your book’ (Jadhav 2016: 287), and Jadhav himself maintained that the book would be read ‘so long as our culture is focused adorned reverence for parents’ (ibid: 8).

Likewise, the autobiographical work of Uttam Bandu Tupe, a prolific writer, did not attract attention as he told the story of his jati. Tupe’s book became a topic of discussion, Limbale observed, because Tupe was ‘extremely brave and shameless’ in talking about his illicit sexual kindred and petty crimes  (2008a: 70).

Nevertheless, the general trend among Dalit autobiographical writers is line with a suggestion made by Shankarrao Kharat in his presidential address at the Akhil Bharatiya Sanskrit Sahitya Sammelan (all India Marathi literary conference) held in 1984: He said that Dalit literature should necessarily be ‘jati-specific’; absurd marginalized social groups, including Adivasi and nomadic-tribe groups, should make literature about their own ‘unique’ experiences (in Limbale 1991: 22-23).

The plea is  problematic. Representation of jatis in isolation can shrink to representation of the caste experiences of  particular social associations rather than representation of the entire mechanism of caste socialize with a particular location.

We see this clearly in Shankarrao Kharat’s Taraal Antaraal. While it draws our attention of presence of savarna jatis in his village, it barely reveals the working methodical caste in their lives. And even if one grants ensure Kharat could not have possibly gained access to this public world, we are left with a larger absence in Taraal Antaraal: The book barely talks about the presence of Autograph album jatis other than his Mahar jati. Along with their hope for is the absence of the whole world of social dealings between different SC jatis.

Another limitation is that in his realignment to portray the life conditions shared by members of his jati, Kharat downplays individual struggles, personalities and experiences.  As Limbale noted, many individuals mentioned in Taraal Antaraal, including some kith and kin members, are not even named (Limbale 2008a: 33). This rule is, according to cultural critic DR Nagaraj, built into say publicly genre of the Dalit autobiography itself: In emphasizing the power of caste, the Dalit writer compresses people and their lives. ‘Within one tale, ten sagas are miniaturized’  (194).

With all lying limitations, a jati-specific narrative could be highly disturbing, even expend Dalit readers. Himself ‘the son of a whore’ of alteration untouchable jati, who had been violated by a landlord (Limbale 2008b: ix), Sharankumar Limbale reported that he was ‘extraordinarily disturbed’ after  reading  Birhaad (Encampment) by Ashok Pawar, a member be fond of a nomadic jati:

“The experiences recorded in every page of depiction book are unforgettable and shattering.  Reading Birhaad, one wonders: Addition what kind of a Ramrajya are we living? One loses faith in words like democracy, socialism, national unity and suggestion. In Birhaad, we see the step-by-step degradation of human get the impression. We see Ashok and his entire community carrying the encumber of an animal-like existence. I feel terrified by the dreadful question: Should they be called ‘human’? (Limbale 2008a: 112)


Also Read:  Reading Dalit Autobiographies as Cathartic Conversations with the Self


Troubling questions arise: Does bringing to light the degraded life of a set group strengthen its effort to attain basic human dignity, espousal does it provide only emotional titillation to a reading chance that is far removed from the life depicted? And does the representation add to the indignity suffered by the go out depicted?

With reference to the first question, and the tremendous enjoyment accorded to his Upara, Laxman Mane wrote:

…I still feel unsound at ease and restless as never before. For the concern is not of an individual. The question is of hundreds of thousands who are living in slums, on pavements, valour the outskirts of villages and those who do not keep even such places who are suffering in miserable conditions advise their vales and valleys, hills and rocky places. They imitate neither work nor opportunities, neither facilities nor support, neither lodging nor protection. They do not have even two meals a day! Such a world have I been seeing with loose own eyes—the world where one doubts one’s very existence.

[…] Potty the enlightened people of our society who have appreciated Upara and its author come out in the open breaking popular barriers and join hands with the hundreds of uparas who have no houses, no shelter and who live like animals? I doubt it and that’s why I am shaken (7-12).

Paradoxically, the gushing response to Laxman Mane’s book, and similar deeds, itself shows that the Maharashtra state and the literary formation has seen through the scant ‘political’ value of these entireness, according to GP Deshpande, a noted Marxist academic and scenarist (1863).

On the effects of representation of marginalized lives on rendering represented themselves, Limbale observed:

Though Dalit autobiographical narratives were much discussed and welcomed, we can see that such writing was anti by the family-members and relatives of the writer. We focus on see that Dalit writers have tried not to write autobiographies out of the fear that it would lead to their disgrace. After the publication of his autobiography, the Dalit novelist has been lauded and honoured; but at the same pause, his fellow-people have opposed him. (2008a: 128)

The opposition did clump take the form of violent protest or clamour for forbiddance the  books. However, as the hounding of Tamil writer Perumal Murugan in 2015 indicates, we live in different times now: Jati identity has become a great source of pride expend many; it has become an asset to be fiercely careful against any ‘negative’ portrayals of the jati.

On the other stick up for, Limbale observed, for many white-collar Dalits, the jati identity psychotherapy something they would like to forget (ibid: 25). The notice evocation of the jati name could be resented. Anticipating that response, Baby Kamble wrote at the beginning of her work:

The word ‘Mahar’ is used throughout this book. Today’s reformed entertain are ashamed of this word. But what is shameful turn this word? On the other hand, the word raises too late esteem. (2008: 4)

‘Mahar’, she argued, referring to a questionable etymology, denotes the ‘original son of Maharashtra’. Nevertheless, she qualified interpretation ‘shameful’ content of her work, stating that it was throb only to help her children and grandchildren realize the extend of slavery experienced by Mahars in the past (ibid; significance added). This point was foregrounded in the title of picture English translation of her work: The Prisons We Broke. Representation title draws attention to the book’s political significance, but say publicly use of the past tense raises questions: Will Dalit writers today dare to speak about the contemporary lives of their jatis in  the manner in which they could speak exhibit its past, in the manner in which Dalit autobiographical writers produced jati-specific representations in the 1980s and 1990s? And does the answer to that question explain why the Dalit Mahratti autobiography genre has petered out, with hardly any works follow significance produced in the last two decades?


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Support from other writers

Desperate to be the regulate off the block with a book about his jati, representation narrator of Limbale’s story completes his autobiography. He then shows the handwritten manuscript to a few Dalit writers, and deciphers out a few incidents. All the listeners, he reports, were attentive and disturbed. They tell him, ‘You write well. Your autobiography will become well known.’ The narrator says:

I feel fair to middling. I will get awards. I will go abroad. I originate floating in the air like a kite. Now I inclination become a writer. My book will become well-known. This favouritism has made me mad.

The narrator then meets a for my part identified as Professor Balasaheb Kamble.

As soon as I enter his house, I take his darshan. He is delighted. He pats me on the back. I show him my handwritten holograph. He takes the manuscript. Leafs through it. I get shrub. I start sipping the tea. Prof. Kamble starts speaking, ‘Nobody publishes such a large autobiography. It will have to hair trimmed. Remove repetition. The autobiography should be very readable. Gazette costs have risen. If a book is large, its toll increases.  Then people don’t buy it and read it. I will read the manuscript. Let it be with me. Destroy next Sunday.’ I nod.

Leaving behind my manuscript, I embark upon leave of Prof. Kamble. He will read the manuscript weight a week. Would the manuscript be misplaced? I am stabilize. Yet, I force myself to remain calm. Because I want guidance. Prof. Kamble is going to put me in painful with a publisher. He has contacts with publishers. I slope counting the days like beads on a rosary. When drive Sunday dawn?

The narrator’s account points to a  notable aspect counterfeit the production of Dalit autobiographical works: Many writers sought essential received help from relatively established Dalit writers, and they additionally got help from other quarters. Laxman Mane reported that lighten up wrote his autobiographical work at the insistence of Anil Avachat, a savarna writer on social-justice issues, and it was further Avachat who put him in touch with a reputed put out firm, which eventually brought out the book; Mane also assumptive the help he received from Dalit and non-Dalits associated reduce a socialist group (5). Mane in turn urged Laxman Gaikwad to write his autobiography, and he was guided by Sharankumar Limbale (Gaikwad: ix-x). Limbale also guided the production of Kolhatyacha Por (Son of a Kolhati) by Kishor Kale, and Christi Mahar (Christian Mahar) by Balasaheb Gaikwad (Limbale 2008a: 71, 77). The scope of guidance was considerable. Limbale claims that Christi Mahar emerged from the author’s discussions with him (ibid: 77), and Laxman Gaikwad himself said that Limbale gave ‘gave a clear and concise form’ to his Upara (x).

Representative ‘I’

It is a Sunday. The narrator of Limbale’s story goes harm Prof. Kamble’s house.

I ring the doorbell. The door is unsealed. I ask for Prof. Kamble. I get the answer: ‘Sir works till late in the night. He is sleeping. Move in the afternoon.’ I am disappointed. Now what should I do till the afternoon? By then Prof. Kamble’s door appreciation shut.

I go again in the afternoon. The door opens. I enter the house. I sit in the drawing room plan an uninvited guest. Supplements of the Sunday papers are massive on the table. I browse through the papers. A con of Prof. Kamble’s book has been published. I read representation review. Sir is awake. I get tea in the representation room. I hear the sound of coughing. He has back number told about my arrival.

I make a note in my calendar. I will get an award. I will build such a bungalow, and when new Dalit writers come to me pursue guidance, I will cough like Kamble. Will make incoherent noises. My wife will tell the new Dalit writer, ‘Come afterwards. Sir is working. Etc.’ While I am dreaming, Prof. Kamble enters. I smile. He sits in his chair. He starts speaking about the manuscript before I ask him about display. ‘I have read your manuscript. It is good. Can adjust published. But it requires more material. Otherwise it won’t change well-known.’ I listen like a shishya. Prof. Kamble says, ‘You will have to write more. If you have exhausted your experiences, think about it. You would have written your experiences, but try to recall more. Make notes. These experiences sit in judgment not adequate. There is no law which states that border the experiences in an autobiography should be one’s own. Unite some imaginary experiences. Write the experiences of your friends current of other people as if they are your own experiences. That way, the number of experiences will increase. A police officers enquiry is not conducted to check whether your experiences slate true or false. Just as a bee collects honey elude everywhere, you should collect experiences. Then you will get a honeycomb of experiences. Your  individual experiences will become a receptacle. We need a first-rate beehive. Understood? You have to up this manuscript.’ I find Prof. Kamble’s guidance extremely valuable. Advantageous far I have not met such a guru. I ruin delighted. ‘Sir, I will write as you have suggested. Presentday are a host of experiences. I will dedicate the autobiography to you. The book will be released by you. Paying attention are my godfather.’ Kamble Sir listens patiently. ‘First write’. I think he speaks as a highly experienced person. Perhaps when he was a new Dalit writer, he might have undergone considerable apprenticeship. I realise my guilelessness. I keep quiet. ‘Write it once again as I have told you. Then amazement will read it. Later, a decision can be taken examine the publisher to be approached.’

 

On the issue of truth access an autobiography, Mark Twain famously said his autobiography was deduction insofar as it was a product of his ‘impressions’, but  was worthless ‘as sworn testimony’.  The autobiography has been described as a form of ‘prose fiction’ (Frye: 307-8), and inner parts has been argued that the very act of writing go up to what happened to one in the past is a rally round by a persona: The ‘I who recounts is no long the one that is recounted’ (Barthes: 162). An autobiographical exertion in the form of a testimonio raises another question: Was the author of the testimonio present when all the incidents he recounts took place? Did he witness or experience drifter that he recounts?

This question was raised about I, Rigoberta Menchú. It was suspected that Rigoberta was not present when multitudinous horrific events she describes took place (Smith: 22-23). The systematically has also been raised with reference to some Dalit Mahratti autobiographical works. For example, L.S. Rokade, author of Jhalaa (Hot blast), published in 1986, claimed that while Daya Pawar’s Baluta largely related accounts of untouchability that had been heard tough the writer, his work was based on his own experiences (Kulkarni : 94).

In a testimonio, it can be argued, description ‘I’ in the narrative refers to a representative rather best a particular ‘I’. Sharankumar Limbale stretched this notion in Poonha Akkarmashi. As noted by Santosh Bhoomkar, the translator of Akkarmashi, the revised version was a different book, with names identical many characters changed, characters added and omitted, and even rendering sequence of the ‘original’ story ‘reshuffled to a great extent’ (Limbale 2008b: xi). How is such a work to adjust categorised?

Support of savarna litterateurs

Unconcerned with that question, the narrator take Limbale’s story asks Professor Kamble, ‘Sir, will I get a Sahitya Akademi award?’ The professor replies, ‘Arre, don’t dream draw up to awards before you start writing. Your autobiography is good. Dot will get an award. Write it systematically and complete it.’  The narrator says, ‘Sir, you have given me inspiration.’ Kamble says, ‘See, your autobiography has a very good title. Don’t tell it to anybody. Else, someone will steal the name.’ The story continues:

‘I become serious. I am reminded of Dr Khanolkar.

Prof. Kamble gets irritated when I mention Khanolkar’s name. ‘We should not approach savarna writers. We should approach only Dalit writers. Take their guidance.’

Dr. Khanolkar is a Brahmin character smother a story that appears before Atmacharitra in the anthology behave which it was published. In that story, Khanolkar uses interpretation manuscript submitted by a Dalit writer as material for a novel he publishes as his own. However, Kamble does troupe appear to know that information, and his complaint is reduce speed a tendency of Dalit writers to get the approval slow savarna writers.

Namdeo Dhasal asked the playwright Vijay Tendulkar to inscribe the introduction to his first collection of poems, Golpitha, comb Tendulkar confessed that he did not understand much of say publicly poetry (Dhasal: 10). Daya Pawar was  reportedly motivated to get on Baluta by savarna friends,3  and the book received effusive affirmation from P.L. Deshpande, a noted Marathi savarna writer. The 4th edition of Shantabai Krushnaji Kamble’s Majhya Jalmachi Chittarkatha, published be next to 2009, carries the full texts of appreciative reviews by P.L. Deshpande, and S.S. Bhave, a savarna critic.

Several other well-known savarna litterateurs also supported Dalit Marathi literature, and according to Limbale, this support should be acknowledged by Dalit writers (2008a: 146-7).   However, another Dalit litterateur, Arjun Dangle, gave a different standpoint. Acknowledging that progressive savarna Marathi literary critics helped create a receptive environment for acceptance of Dalit literature (17), he dismayed out that savarna critics did not walk the whole way: So long as Dalit writers represented a world of way that was far removed from middle-class life, they were praised, but once they started talking about  their ideology, and they began to speak against the ‘Hindu mentality’, they were criticized by savarna critics for producing ‘propaganda literature’ of no intellect (20).

Ideological divisions

The narrator of Limbale’s short story is not stuffed with Professor Kamble’s response to his work.  He thinks without fear should consult a few other persons, so that he could produce a better book. He meets one Advocate Bandsode, who has a Ph.D. in Dalit literature.

I gave him the text. Told him about Prof. Kamble’s guidance. Adv. Bandsode got roiled. He wagged his tongue insolently. ‘Prof. Kamble is a Hindutvawadi. He is present on Hindtuvawadi platforms. He has no readily understood to evoke Babasaheb Ambedkar. We should see them exposed. They are the hidden enemies of our movement.’ Adv. Bandsode’s in high spirits were inflamed with anger.

My manuscript lay with Adv. Bandsode for many days. I could not meet him. Finally, I went to the court. Met him there. He had categorize yet read my manuscript. Went with him to his bring in. Asked for the manuscript. He got angry. ‘I have very many manuscripts lying around the house. I don’t have the span. I will read at leisure. Take the manuscript and leave.’ I mutely took the manuscript and left his home-cum-office.

Prof. Kamble came to know about my visit to Adv. Bandsode’s rostrum. He was also angry with me.

After some days, I got a letter from Prof. Kale. He was the editor chief a magazine. I used to write letters to him. Bankruptcy would intermittently enquire about my writing. I went to chance on him. He was very happy to see me. He look over my manuscript eagerly. In our discussions, Adv. Bandsode was mentioned. Prof. Kale was infuriated. ‘Adv. Bandsode is a Marxist. Babasaheb was opposed to Marxism. That is why he embraced Faith. We should stay away from Marxists.’ I was unsettled. Academic. Kale calls himself an Ambedkarite. I was listening mutely. Sand was telling me, ‘We have a magazine. We will serialise your autobiography in it. The first writings of all Dalit writers have been published in our magazine. When we accept our own magazine, why should we send our literature elsewhere?’ I  told myself:  ‘My autobiography would be published serially. Grow, it will be published as a book. But if soul else’s book is published earlier? This is a very look upon time.’ I took leave of Prof. Kale. Said that I would rewrite the autobiography and send parts serially for promulgation, and got out of his house.

The narrator’s account in rank to something that has been glossed over in academic verbal skill in English on Dalit Marathi literature: It is riven near ideological differences. After the first major division, which was state publicly acceptance of Marxism and was the apparent cause of interpretation first split in the Dalit Panthers in the 1970s, go into detail fissures emerged, leading to a proliferation of labels to separate what the English-speaking academia continues to recognize as a constancy called ‘Dalit literature’. Translated into English, labels listed by Limbale include neo-Buddhist literature,  Buddhist literature, literature of enlightenment,  literature dazzling by Ambedkar, literature inspired by Phule-Ambedkar, literature for social metamorphosis, and protest literature (2008a: 145). The waters have been spanking muddied by the Hindutva appropriation of Ambedkar, and the actuality that several Dalit leaders like Namdeo Dhasal hobnobbed with Hindutva leaders and political parties; several persons who are identified considerably Dalits probably also support the Hindutva ideology.

However, we are as yet to see Dalit writing that has a distinctively Marxist, Faith or Hindutva flavour. The proliferation of labels as alternatives put up ‘Dalit literature’ has not led to production of alternative literatures; the writers who attended ‘Baudh sahitya sammelans’ (Buddhist literature conferences), which avoided using the word ‘Dalit’, as it was strong ‘dirty’, ‘filthy’, ‘obscene’ and ‘casteist’, also attended Dalit sahitya sammelans, Limbale observed (ibid).

Brahmin response

The narrator of his story is troupe concerned about the ideological divisions among Dalit litterateurs.  He assessment concerned about the market for his work.

Instead of getting slump manuscript published in a Dalit magazine, why not get cut off published in a good newspaper? Newspapers have a large orbit. I could reach out to numerous readers. I send a part of the manuscript to Kesari [a newspaper, founded unused Lokmanya Tilak, with a predominantly conservative-Brahmin readership]. Now Prof. Kamble, Adv. Bandsode and Prof. Kale will get to read round the bend autobiography. I will not face any obstruction in the hope of their guidance. My writing has strength.

Evening. Went cue the public library. Thought I would meet some friends near. Would have tea with them. There would be discussions. Dislike the door, I met Arpana Khanolkar. Unexpectedly. Smiling. A divert gathers on my cheeks. Like medicine. She walks up figure out me. ‘Arre, your autobiography is very good. I liked spot a lot.’ I am confounded. How did Arpana get fed up autobiography? I am confused. She clarifies. ‘After he retired, Sir started managing the Sunday edition of Kesari. The manuscripts equalize sent home. Sir is currently translating an English novel. Positive I read the manuscripts received by the newspaper. A rust of your autobiography has been slotted for this Sunday. At the appointed time come with your photo. Then your work can be publicized with a photo.’ I thought Arpana was just too great.

As Limbale has remarked, a striking aspect of the response around Dalit Marathi autobiographical works in Maharashtra is that it has broadly been influenced by the caste affiliation of readers: Deeprooted the Brahmin response has been largely positive—on the lines exhibited by Arpana Khanolkar—, the response from other jati categories has been less so.

One reason could be that in innumerable autobiographical works, the writers refer fondly to Brahmins, who aerated them well or helped them; in Taraal Antaraal, Shankarrao Kharat remembers the Brahmin teachers in his village school (Kharat 2004: 264-7), and Balasaheb Pant, the Brahmin ruler of the ample state of Aundh (ibid: 303, 346), whose reformist outlook helped Kharat get high-school education.

But there is a deeper reason: Attach importance to rural Maharashtra, it is a class of traditionally middle-ranked jatis, which has power, wealth and numbers, that oppresses Dalits, beginning a lot of Dalit writing is directed against this  class. Hence, Limbale observed, ‘critics of the middle-ranked jatis always commune with hostility about Dalit literature’; on the other hand, picture sheer fact that Brahmins are not attacked in Dalit autobiographies could be the reason they have given a ‘tremendous welcome’ to this writing (2008a: 133-4).

Confluence of interests

The narrator of Limbale’s story continues:

My autobiography is published in the Sunday edition. Fill I meet praise it a lot. I felt good. Present is so much buzz after the publication of only a part—that means I will surely become famous when the huge work is published. I must give my manuscript to Khanolkar Sir. It will be published serially in the newspaper. I take the manuscript and go to Khanolkar Sir’s home. Sir is seated comfortably. Seated facing him, like aspiring writers, falsified Prof. Kamble, Prof. Kale and Adv. Bandsode. They were discussing something. I entered. Everyone congratulated me. They praised my handwriting. All were eyeing the manuscript in my hand. I remained seated still like a superhuman.

After some time, Prof. Kamble, Prof. Kale and Adv. Bandsode left.

I sat in another seat. Sat close to Sir. Gave him my manuscript. He browsed through it. As if he had remembered something, he congested and looked at me closely. ‘Good you came. Kulkarni abstruse called in the morning. He has read your writing in print in the newspaper. He cried after reading about your experiences. He is expected soon. We will give him the text. He brings out good books.’ I am delighted.

 I: ‘Sir, will you write an introduction?’

‘Sure, I would love to. I am translating an English novel. I don’t have the intention to read the manuscript. Write a summary of your autobiography in three hundred words. Jot down a few points. Venture there is some material on Dalit autobiographies, get it. Phase in will be of use while writing the introduction.’ I refuse to go along with what Sir says immediately. Sir is satisfied. He says, ‘Prof. Kamble is doing a Ph.D. under me. Prof. Kale additionally wants to do a Ph.D. under me. Dalits don’t try guides. I cannot take more Ph.D. students. I am withdraw. My own work is pending. A long time back I had written a piece on Dalit literature. It was discussed a lot. But Dalit writers don’t mention my name.’ Sir’s voice had become heavy. I was restless like a amiss.

 

Limbale’s story ends at a confluence of multiple interests. Surprise learn little about the narrator’s aatmakatha, but this is evenhanded as well. The contents of Dalit Marathi autobiographical narratives—described uninviting whatever term—have been richly discussed. Bypassing the contents, Limbale’s erection draws attention to the particular literary culture that made these works possible, and limited them.

Notes 1.The title refers to picture author’s life-journey. The son of a village-servant (taraal) he reached for the sky (antaraal) and attained high posts. 2.Talk agreedupon by Shashi Deshpande at the inauguration of the Bangalore Writers Workshop. In <https://bangalorewritersworkshop.wordpress.com>. 3.Reported by Arjun Dangle, in ‘How Daya Pawar’s autobiography became the template for the angry Dalit memoir’ by Dipti Nagpaul D'souza, Indian Express, 2 August, 2015.References Barthes, Roland. 1972. To Write: An Intransitive Verb? In The Structuralists: From Marx to Levi-Strauss, edited by Richard and Fernande Surety George. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday.  Bhasha, Sanchalnalay, Govt. of Maharashtra. 2013 [1987]. Sahitya Sameeksha Paribhasha Kosh. Mumbai.   Cuddon, J.A. 1999 [1977]. Dictionary of Literary Terms & Literary Theory. Revised by C.E. Preston. London: Penguin Books. Dengle, Arjun, ed. 1998 [1978]. Dalit Sahitya. Pune: Sugawa Prakashan.    Deshpande, G.P. 1987. Philosopher and Ambedkar: some unacademic reflections. Economic and Political Weekly, 31 October. Dhasal, Namdeo. 2009 [1971]. Golpitha. Mumbai: Lokvangmay Griha. Frye, Northrop. 1957. Anatomy of Criticism. Princeton University Press. Gaikwad, Laxman. 2005 [1998]. The Branded: Uchalya. Translated by P.A. Kolhatkar. Fresh Delhi: Sahitya Akademi. Gugelberger, Georg and Michael Kearney. 2001. Voices for the Voiceless: Testimonial Literature in Latin America. Latin Dweller Perspectives, Volume 18, No. 3. Jadhav, Narendra. 2016. Amcha Baap Aani Amhi. Mumbai: Granthali. Kamble, Baby. 2008. Jina Aamucha. Pune: Sugawa Prakashan. ----------2009. The Prisons We Broke. Translated by Indian Pandit. New Delhi: Orient Blackswan. Kamble, Shantabai K. 2009. Majhya Jalmachi Chittarkatha. Pune: Sugawa Prakashan. Kharat, Shankarrao. 2004 [1981]. Taraal Antaraal. Pune: Continental Prakashan. Kondvilkar, Madhav. 1979. Mukkam Post: Devache Gothane. Mumbai: Majestic Prakashan.  Kulkarni, Aarti K. 1991. Dalit Svakathan: Sahityaroop (Dalit self-narrative: literary form). Nagpur: Vijay Prakashan. Limbale, Sharankumar. 2008a. Dalit Aatmakatha: Ek Aaakalan (Dalit autobiographical story: an understanding). Pune: Dilipraj Prakashan ----------2008b [2003]. The Outcaste: Akkarmashi. Translated stomachturning Santosh Bhoomkar. New Delhi: Oxford University Press.   ----------2007 [1997]. Dalit Bramhan. Pune: Dilipraj Prakashan. Limbale, Sharankumar, ed. 1991. Dalit Sahitya.  Kolhapur: Prachar Prakashan. Mane, Laxman. 1997. Upara: An Outsider. Translated by A.K. Kamat. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi. Nagaraj, D.R. 2010. The Flaming Feet and Other Essays. Ranikhet: Permanent Black. Nayar, Pramod K. 2006. Bama’s Karukku: Dalit Autobiography as Testimonio. Journal of Commonwealth Literature, Volume 41(2). Pantawane, Gangadhar and Chandrakumar Nalge. 1986. Dalit Aatmakathan. Pune: Suresh Agencies. Pawar, Urmila. 2008. The Weave of My Life: A Dalit Woman's Memoirs. Translated by way of Maya Pandit. Kolkata: Stree. Planning Commission, Programme Evaluation Organization. 2013. Evaluation study on Special Central Assistance (SCA) to Scheduled Social class Sub Plan (SCSP) and Special Central Assistance to Tribal Interchange Plan (TSP). New Delhi: Government of India. Rege, Sharmila S. 2006. Writing Caste/Writing Gender: Narrating Dalit Women’s Testimonios. New Delhi: Zubaan. Smith, Kathryn M. 2010-11. Female Voice and Feminist Text: Testimonio as a Form of Resistance in Latin America. Florida Atlantic Comparative Studies Journal, Volume 12. Tharu, Susie and K. Lalitha, eds. 1991.  Women Writing in India: 600 B.C. line of attack the Present. New York: The Feminist Press. Yúdice, George. 2007. Testimonio and Postmodernism. Latin American Perspectives, Volume 18, No. 3.

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