Rettamalai Srinivasan: A Tocsin of Dalit Emancipation

The deeper we delve into history, the more voices emerge from its forgotten layers. Power structures determine which voices reach the masses and which are thrown into oblivion. Yet some voices possess a profound valence that they outlive these machinations of suppression and naturally challenge dominant narratives. One such voice belongs to Rettamalai Srinivasan—a pioneer of Dalit emancipation in Tamil Nadu, a social thinker who necessitated the upliftment of the oppressed, and an activist determined to remove caste discrimination. His only book, "எனது வாழ்க்கை" (My Life), compiled by D. Ravikumar, stands as a powerful account of this remarkable figure who sounded the tocsin of Dalit consciousness in colonial Tamil Nadu. One cannot reduce modern Indian history to the redundant binary of coloniser and colonised. Such superficial frameworks obscure the complex web of social relationships, internal dissents and struggles that shaped our past. By bringing voices like Rettamalai Srinivasan's to light, we understand that our history (as any history) is pluralistic, not homogenous. It is discontinuous and consists of numerous gaps. In other words, history resists completion.

Born on July 7, 1859, Rettamalai Srinivasan emerged as a Dalit intellectual who waged a battle against caste brutalities all his life. Recognised as the first graduate among Dalits in Tamil Nadu, he understood that social and political upliftment would liberate the downtrodden and dismantle the edifice of caste oppression. He established the 'Paraiyar Mahajana Sabha' (later renamed Adi-Dravida Mahajana Sabha) 1891, an institutional framework for collective empowerment. In 1893, he launched Paraiyan, a monthly journal of four pages, aiming to emancipate the Dalit population. The response was immediate and overwhelming, as 400 copies were sold in Chennai within two days of its launch. Within three months, Paraiyan transformed into a weekly publication, and within two years, it had established its own printing press. Unlike many of his contemporaries, he did not consider the term 'pariah' derogatory. He openly declared himself to be a 'pariah'. This reminds me of one of Langston Hughes' poems:

"But someday somebody'll 

Stand up and talk about me, 

And write about me-- 

Black and beautiful-- 

And sing about me, 

And put on plays about me! 

I reckon it'll be 

Me myself! 

Yes, it'll be me."

Like Hughes, Srinivasan proclaimed, "I am that Parayan who will speak of pariahs. And he did. His journal became a platform for articulating Dalit experiences, challenging dominant caste narratives, and building a counter-discourse showcasing Dalit dissent. Today, we witness a surge in comparative studies between African Americans and Dalits, as both societies have been robbed of their history, culture, and self-respect, and both have fought against the authoritative forces that subjugated them.

My Life documents several watershed moments in Dalit assertion. For instance, the book captures the moments of Dalits' entry into Victoria Hall in 1895, his counter-petition signed by 3412 people to check caste Hindus' monopoly in civil services, the redeeming of Panjami lands and House Pattas for the disadvantaged groups, his participation in the first two Round Table Conferences in London and his affiliation with Dr. B. R. Ambedkar and other prominent leaders at that time. For fifteen years, Srinivasan served as a Member of the Legislative Council and worked for Dalit advancement. He reflects on such experiences and explains how he attempted to utilise legislative platforms to castigate caste practices and advocate for systematic reform.

Rettamalai Srinivasan's My Life is a foundational text that challenges us to move beyond simplistic narrations of the nation's past and recognise the internal dynamics of power, resistance, and transformation that shaped our past. His life and work remind us that the struggle for dignity and equality has deep roots in Tamil Nadu and that the voices of the oppressed have always found ways to articulate their aspirations, even when dominant narratives attempt to silence them. Despite the colonial titles like Rao Sahib, Rao Bahadur, and Diwan Bahadur, 'Thatha' (The Grandfather), the one given by the people, defines him better.