<p>Many of Susheela Nada’s early memories of caste discrimination and violence are linked to kambala, the traditional buffalo race organised in Udupi and Dakshina Kannada districts. As a child, she would accompany her family to the annual race, conducted by feudal families in her village Nada in Kundapura taluk.</p>.<p>At the time, the oppressive ‘Ajalu’ system was prevalent in the coastal region. The set of beliefs enforces untouchability and acts of indignity upon the Koraga community, a particularly vulnerable tribal group.</p><p>Koragas were expected to perform a ritual called pani kullunu (‘sitting in dew’ in Tulu), in accordance with the Ajalu system. “We would stay in an open ground on the night before kambala, shivering in the cold of November and December months. Koraga families were assigned to different kambala events hereditarily. There was no way of opting out,” she says.</p>.<p>The ritual was supposedly practised to safeguard the kambala field. “To confirm that the tracks are safe for buffaloes, elders in our family had to walk barefoot on the field just before the race began and check if there were any glass pieces or stones,” Susheela says. </p><p>She started taking note of such discriminatory practices when she was seven years old. “Every act of discrimination was kept alive in the name of god,” she says. The kambala event in her village eventually ended in 1990, when the field was acquired for a railway project. </p>. <p>Susheela’s first act of resistance came when she was 12 years old. A villager from a privileged caste household was about to offer water to Susheela in a coconut shell. Recognising this as a practice of untouchability, she refused. “I was thirsty. But I refused to drink water and turned back,” she says. </p><p>The practice of untouchability is a lived experience for the Koraga community. The community is spread across Udupi, Dakshina Kannada, and Kerala’s Kasargod district, with a population of around 16,000 as per the 2011 census.</p><p>There are around 60 practices in the Ajalu system which dehumanise Koragas. But these were practised blatantly until the Karnataka Koragas (Prohibition of Ajalu Practice) Act, 2000 came into force.</p><p>A quarter of a century after the law was enacted, a majority of Koragas are still struggling to break free from the chains of slavery, social isolation and discriminatory acts emanating from the regressive attitudes of mainstream society. </p><p>The Koraga Abhivruddhi Sanghagala Okkoota, a state-level federation, was formed in 1998 to enable Koragas to lead a life of dignity. Incidents of caste violence have reduced considerably, but there are several instances of Ajalu being practised covertly. “Those who have come in contact with the federation do not yield to coercion. But privileged caste people somehow find Koraga people who agree, fearing the wrath of god and tell them to perform Ajalu,” says Susheela, the president of the federation.</p><p>Recently, Susheela and a few others confronted a privileged caste family at their house. The family had coerced an elderly Koraga couple to perform ‘Panchama Dana’. In this ritual, when someone is sick, their hair and nails are mixed with food, which is then offered to a Koraga person. The belief is that this regressive ritual transfers the disease to the Koragas who, in turn, pass it on to the forest.</p><p>“This is what people from privileged castes think. For our community members, it is nothing but helplessness,” says Susheela. “It is a daily struggle to keep the practice at bay if we lose focus even for a day,” she adds.</p><p>In response to another incident of discrimination and dehumanisation, Susheela single-handedly stopped manual scavenging in her village. A decade ago, she came to know that her family members were engaged by an affluent family in manual scavenging. She immediately filed a police complaint. Though this case was closed as the victims gave in to pressure, she ensured that the panchayat bought a machine. “I want to advocate for the implementation of this at every panchayat,” she says. </p><p>Nandini, who heads ActionAid Karnataka operations, commends the efforts of Susheela and the federation in enabling people to escape the clutches of Ajalu, which is directly linked to livelihoods. ActionAid has collaborated with the federation for the past two decades on various empowerment initiatives. </p><p>Sabitha Gundmi, the first PhD holder from the community, says that the Koragas are semi-nomadic and are yet to transition from food gatherers to food producers. As forest resources dwindle, Koragas are forced to wait for donations from dominant caste families. </p>. <p>The Koraga community believes that land belongs to everyone and that no one can claim ownership. As a result, plots or farms where they live or cultivate are often not registered. A paper published by Sabitha provides another perspective: Historically, Koragas were bought and sold with land. </p><p>In 1994, the Mohammed Peer Committee formed to study the socio-economic conditions of the Koraga community recommended allotting 2.5 acres of land to each family in Karnataka.</p><p>The Committee highlighted the plight of the community and recommended government intervention in health, education and livelihood opportunities. </p><p>Three decades have passed since, but progress has not been satisfactory. Land rights remain contentious and are one of the causes that Susheela is fighting for. “Of the 400 acres of land allotted in Udupi district, only 100 acres are suitable for agriculture. In many areas, the land is not even habitable,” she says. She has been devising various strategies to attract the attention of the administration. </p><p>In Mulki taluk, the land allotted to 30 families was in a landslide-prone area. When repeated requests to the district administration to allot alternative land did not yield results, Susheela and her team encroached upon government land. The strategy worked and the taluk administration allotted an alternative land for the families to build houses.</p><p>“Before Susheela became the federation president, we were fighting it out locally. She amplified the struggle by getting the entire federation involved,” says Supriya, a federation volunteer, who belongs to a beneficiary family. Susheela’s ability to explain their situation to the administration and offer solutions have been important in this engagement.</p><p>“Susheela has been a catalyst for the effective implementation of government schemes for the Koraga community, from housing to education fellowships and nutrition,” says Narayanaswamy M, project coordinator, tribal welfare department, Udupi.</p><p>Susheela, 45, credits the Anganwadi union, of which she is a member, for her perseverance and ability to advocate at the policy level. She joined as an Anganwadi worker in 1998, perhaps the first Koraga woman to get this job. After completing SSLC in 1996, Susheela did some odd jobs before her mother, who worked as a group D staff at the panchayat office, informed her about this opportunity. </p><p>Susheela is the youngest of seven siblings. True to the matrilineal practice of the Koraga community, her mother, Siddu, looked after the family. </p><p>“From the exposure my mother got at the Panchayat, she insisted on me completing SSLC. A village accountant also made us register the 1.5 acres of land where we used to reside and cultivate crops,” she says. </p><p>Social prejudice haunted her even at the Anganwadi. Initially, the Anganwadi was functioning from a rented space, located adjacent to a dominant caste household. While a fellow Anganwadi worker, who was from a privileged caste, was allowed to draw water from the well in the compound, Susheela had to wait for a family member to fetch water as she was not allowed to touch the well. </p><p>“Until I joined, Koraga children from the area had not enrolled with the Anganwadi,” she says. Overcoming these hurdles, one at a time, she has now transformed the Anganwadi into a community space, organising activities for the young and the old — cutting across castes and communities. She has also become the information bearer of various government schemes and scholarships, which has made her a popular figure in the village. Shobha, who is from a privileged caste, says Susheela’s timely information helped her son get a scholarship in college.</p><p><strong>Activism</strong> </p><p>As she was fighting prejudice as an Anganwadi worker, a chance interaction with a member of the Koraga federation in 2008 helped her look at the challenges from a community lens. Soon, Susheela joined the community-based organisation. Eventually, she completed her postgraduation through distance learning.</p><p>The members of the federation are witness to her swift growth in the organisation and give credit to its women-centric approach for this. “We are a matrilineal community and the federation is firm on following these principles,” says federation coordinator K Puthra Hebri. Their by-law mandates four male and five female members on the board. That Susheela has become the president for a second term speaks of her abilities, and the trust she has been able to build. </p><p>Over the years, they have organised many successful campaigns focusing on health, education and livelihoods. “These three areas are crucial for us to build a life of dignity,” says Susheela. </p><p>Recently, the federation protested day and night in Udupi, demanding land rights and government jobs for eligible candidates. While the community has seen steady progress with education, getting a job has been tough. “Mainstream society has not accepted us yet, so entrepreneurship is not an option. We struggle to get jobs under reservation as well. A steady source of income will change the prospects of our families,” Susheela adds. </p>. <p>The historical oppression that the community has faced is evident in the malnutrition levels and resultant health problems — with tuberculosis and skin diseases being common. Susheela and her team have been facilitating the effective implementation of government programmes to improve health and prevent population decline.</p><p>It came to Susheela’s notice that the community’s cultural identity was fast fading. “The drums that we play were used during all Ajalu practices. Now the federation has formed teams who play the drums during cultural events,” says Ashok Shetty from Samagra Grameena Ashrama. The organisation has been instrumental in the formation of the Koraga federation. </p><p>Susheela is also putting in the effort to revive the cooperative society of basket weavers, the traditional occupation of Koragas. “We are encouraging the community to grow the raw material in their vicinity,” she says.</p><p>Even as the Koraga community is at a turning point, Susheela is striving to prepare them to embrace positive change and keep their identity intact. Resistance and empowerment are her chosen paths towards achieving this. </p>
<p>Many of Susheela Nada’s early memories of caste discrimination and violence are linked to kambala, the traditional buffalo race organised in Udupi and Dakshina Kannada districts. As a child, she would accompany her family to the annual race, conducted by feudal families in her village Nada in Kundapura taluk.</p>.<p>At the time, the oppressive ‘Ajalu’ system was prevalent in the coastal region. The set of beliefs enforces untouchability and acts of indignity upon the Koraga community, a particularly vulnerable tribal group.</p><p>Koragas were expected to perform a ritual called pani kullunu (‘sitting in dew’ in Tulu), in accordance with the Ajalu system. “We would stay in an open ground on the night before kambala, shivering in the cold of November and December months. Koraga families were assigned to different kambala events hereditarily. There was no way of opting out,” she says.</p>.<p>The ritual was supposedly practised to safeguard the kambala field. “To confirm that the tracks are safe for buffaloes, elders in our family had to walk barefoot on the field just before the race began and check if there were any glass pieces or stones,” Susheela says. </p><p>She started taking note of such discriminatory practices when she was seven years old. “Every act of discrimination was kept alive in the name of god,” she says. The kambala event in her village eventually ended in 1990, when the field was acquired for a railway project. </p>. <p>Susheela’s first act of resistance came when she was 12 years old. A villager from a privileged caste household was about to offer water to Susheela in a coconut shell. Recognising this as a practice of untouchability, she refused. “I was thirsty. But I refused to drink water and turned back,” she says. </p><p>The practice of untouchability is a lived experience for the Koraga community. The community is spread across Udupi, Dakshina Kannada, and Kerala’s Kasargod district, with a population of around 16,000 as per the 2011 census.</p><p>There are around 60 practices in the Ajalu system which dehumanise Koragas. But these were practised blatantly until the Karnataka Koragas (Prohibition of Ajalu Practice) Act, 2000 came into force.</p><p>A quarter of a century after the law was enacted, a majority of Koragas are still struggling to break free from the chains of slavery, social isolation and discriminatory acts emanating from the regressive attitudes of mainstream society. </p><p>The Koraga Abhivruddhi Sanghagala Okkoota, a state-level federation, was formed in 1998 to enable Koragas to lead a life of dignity. Incidents of caste violence have reduced considerably, but there are several instances of Ajalu being practised covertly. “Those who have come in contact with the federation do not yield to coercion. But privileged caste people somehow find Koraga people who agree, fearing the wrath of god and tell them to perform Ajalu,” says Susheela, the president of the federation.</p><p>Recently, Susheela and a few others confronted a privileged caste family at their house. The family had coerced an elderly Koraga couple to perform ‘Panchama Dana’. In this ritual, when someone is sick, their hair and nails are mixed with food, which is then offered to a Koraga person. The belief is that this regressive ritual transfers the disease to the Koragas who, in turn, pass it on to the forest.</p><p>“This is what people from privileged castes think. For our community members, it is nothing but helplessness,” says Susheela. “It is a daily struggle to keep the practice at bay if we lose focus even for a day,” she adds.</p><p>In response to another incident of discrimination and dehumanisation, Susheela single-handedly stopped manual scavenging in her village. A decade ago, she came to know that her family members were engaged by an affluent family in manual scavenging. She immediately filed a police complaint. Though this case was closed as the victims gave in to pressure, she ensured that the panchayat bought a machine. “I want to advocate for the implementation of this at every panchayat,” she says. </p><p>Nandini, who heads ActionAid Karnataka operations, commends the efforts of Susheela and the federation in enabling people to escape the clutches of Ajalu, which is directly linked to livelihoods. ActionAid has collaborated with the federation for the past two decades on various empowerment initiatives. </p><p>Sabitha Gundmi, the first PhD holder from the community, says that the Koragas are semi-nomadic and are yet to transition from food gatherers to food producers. As forest resources dwindle, Koragas are forced to wait for donations from dominant caste families. </p>. <p>The Koraga community believes that land belongs to everyone and that no one can claim ownership. As a result, plots or farms where they live or cultivate are often not registered. A paper published by Sabitha provides another perspective: Historically, Koragas were bought and sold with land. </p><p>In 1994, the Mohammed Peer Committee formed to study the socio-economic conditions of the Koraga community recommended allotting 2.5 acres of land to each family in Karnataka.</p><p>The Committee highlighted the plight of the community and recommended government intervention in health, education and livelihood opportunities. </p><p>Three decades have passed since, but progress has not been satisfactory. Land rights remain contentious and are one of the causes that Susheela is fighting for. “Of the 400 acres of land allotted in Udupi district, only 100 acres are suitable for agriculture. In many areas, the land is not even habitable,” she says. She has been devising various strategies to attract the attention of the administration. </p><p>In Mulki taluk, the land allotted to 30 families was in a landslide-prone area. When repeated requests to the district administration to allot alternative land did not yield results, Susheela and her team encroached upon government land. The strategy worked and the taluk administration allotted an alternative land for the families to build houses.</p><p>“Before Susheela became the federation president, we were fighting it out locally. She amplified the struggle by getting the entire federation involved,” says Supriya, a federation volunteer, who belongs to a beneficiary family. Susheela’s ability to explain their situation to the administration and offer solutions have been important in this engagement.</p><p>“Susheela has been a catalyst for the effective implementation of government schemes for the Koraga community, from housing to education fellowships and nutrition,” says Narayanaswamy M, project coordinator, tribal welfare department, Udupi.</p><p>Susheela, 45, credits the Anganwadi union, of which she is a member, for her perseverance and ability to advocate at the policy level. She joined as an Anganwadi worker in 1998, perhaps the first Koraga woman to get this job. After completing SSLC in 1996, Susheela did some odd jobs before her mother, who worked as a group D staff at the panchayat office, informed her about this opportunity. </p><p>Susheela is the youngest of seven siblings. True to the matrilineal practice of the Koraga community, her mother, Siddu, looked after the family. </p><p>“From the exposure my mother got at the Panchayat, she insisted on me completing SSLC. A village accountant also made us register the 1.5 acres of land where we used to reside and cultivate crops,” she says. </p><p>Social prejudice haunted her even at the Anganwadi. Initially, the Anganwadi was functioning from a rented space, located adjacent to a dominant caste household. While a fellow Anganwadi worker, who was from a privileged caste, was allowed to draw water from the well in the compound, Susheela had to wait for a family member to fetch water as she was not allowed to touch the well. </p><p>“Until I joined, Koraga children from the area had not enrolled with the Anganwadi,” she says. Overcoming these hurdles, one at a time, she has now transformed the Anganwadi into a community space, organising activities for the young and the old — cutting across castes and communities. She has also become the information bearer of various government schemes and scholarships, which has made her a popular figure in the village. Shobha, who is from a privileged caste, says Susheela’s timely information helped her son get a scholarship in college.</p><p><strong>Activism</strong> </p><p>As she was fighting prejudice as an Anganwadi worker, a chance interaction with a member of the Koraga federation in 2008 helped her look at the challenges from a community lens. Soon, Susheela joined the community-based organisation. Eventually, she completed her postgraduation through distance learning.</p><p>The members of the federation are witness to her swift growth in the organisation and give credit to its women-centric approach for this. “We are a matrilineal community and the federation is firm on following these principles,” says federation coordinator K Puthra Hebri. Their by-law mandates four male and five female members on the board. That Susheela has become the president for a second term speaks of her abilities, and the trust she has been able to build. </p><p>Over the years, they have organised many successful campaigns focusing on health, education and livelihoods. “These three areas are crucial for us to build a life of dignity,” says Susheela. </p><p>Recently, the federation protested day and night in Udupi, demanding land rights and government jobs for eligible candidates. While the community has seen steady progress with education, getting a job has been tough. “Mainstream society has not accepted us yet, so entrepreneurship is not an option. We struggle to get jobs under reservation as well. A steady source of income will change the prospects of our families,” Susheela adds. </p>. <p>The historical oppression that the community has faced is evident in the malnutrition levels and resultant health problems — with tuberculosis and skin diseases being common. Susheela and her team have been facilitating the effective implementation of government programmes to improve health and prevent population decline.</p><p>It came to Susheela’s notice that the community’s cultural identity was fast fading. “The drums that we play were used during all Ajalu practices. Now the federation has formed teams who play the drums during cultural events,” says Ashok Shetty from Samagra Grameena Ashrama. The organisation has been instrumental in the formation of the Koraga federation. </p><p>Susheela is also putting in the effort to revive the cooperative society of basket weavers, the traditional occupation of Koragas. “We are encouraging the community to grow the raw material in their vicinity,” she says.</p><p>Even as the Koraga community is at a turning point, Susheela is striving to prepare them to embrace positive change and keep their identity intact. Resistance and empowerment are her chosen paths towards achieving this. </p>