JOIN USUnshackled: Devadasi women lead the way in this movement
Ningamma was all of 15 when she realised that the title of Lord Hanuman’s wife does not provide her with any strength to face her darkest hours. As a Madiga girl dedicated to god at a very young age, she faced enormous challenges every day — to simply live a life of dignity. Madigas are one of the most dispossessed among the Dalits. “I have lived every moment thinking that no other girl should live a life of misery — in the name of god,” says the septuagenarian who lives in Nilagal village, Raichur.
It was only after three decades, in 2001, that she found support in a community-led initiative, which sought to get the society rid of the Devadasi system.
The volunteers of this initiative, a majority of who were youngsters from rural communities, brought together 20 Devadasis with the same zeal as Ningamma. They resolved to fight against all forms of discrimination they were subjected to relentlessly — caste, class and gender. Together, they formed a federation of women called the Navajeevana Mahila Okkoota (NJMO) in Raichur. In six months, 1,500 Devadasis joined the federation and soon the number rose to 2,500. Two decades later, 300 villages in the district are free of the Devadasi practice. Not even a single incident has been reported in these villages in the past five years.
Since the beginning, the volunteers and the Devadasis shared the responsibilities: The Devadasis would create awareness, persuade or use pressure tactics to deter families from dedicating their daughters. The volunteers would cater to the three basic demands of Devadasi families — shelter, work and education for their children — by linking with government programmes and connecting with donors.
From counselling to street plays, constant surveillance in places of worship where dedication generally takes place and stopping such ceremonies by force, these women employed various strategies to change the conventions of a patriarchal, caste-ridden society. From pep talk to registering a police complaint, they did not leave a single stone unturned.
Defying all odds
There was resistance all through. The Madiga families feared the wrath of god and that of advantaged people. The powerful saw it as a threat to their hegemony. They (women) were even beaten by locals when they tried to stop mass and individual dedication. But nothing could deter them.
To bolster the initiative, these women designed a unique strategy, something that was unheard of in this region. Protest.
From ascertaining their rights to fighting injustice and demanding support from institutions, these women heeded to the call of their conscience and made others, including the administration, pay attention to their needs.
“Initially, we used to join the protests discreetly as family members and villagers would dissuade us or even forcefully stop us from participating,” says Hajamma, Ningamma’s neighbour. The sense of freedom, empowerment and togetherness that protests instilled in them helped them stand their ground in the face of hostility.
As expected, the protests alerted agencies, ostensibly formed to address their issues. The first success came in 2008 when the government extended the housing, pension and other schemes to all the 16 districts where dedication was practiced.
“Even society is changing. People and parents are well-informed and aware. NJMO has been relentlessly fighting all forms of violence against women, including the Devadasi system. Government agencies have also supported initiatives like this to stop this practice. In fact, the practice has almost stopped in the entire district,” said Veeranagouda, deputy director, Women and Child Development Department, Raichur.
Survivors to leaders
Importantly, the entire process has transformed them from survivors to leaders and has laid a strong foundation for a unique social movement led by Madiga women and other deprived communities. Even today, protest is the mainstay of this movement.
They have seen many successes through protests in the last 20 years; both small and big. They generally prioritise issues and decide on the theme and form of protest because going on one means letting go of their daily wages and buying bus tickets, among other things. Currently they are a major part of the campaign to ban liquor in the state.
“Another reason for our success is our focus on girls below 18. Generally, girls are dedicated when they are very young,” says Ningamma. Access to education through scholarships and hostel facilities made a huge difference to their lives. Mothers volunteered to send their children to schools and decided not to pass on this tradition. The core team believes education empowers them to decide on their destiny by the time they turn 18. Since the beginning, Infosys Foundation has been supporting the initiative through scholarships.
With education came better opportunities and a better quality of life. All these children are well-educated, some of them have successfully completed professional courses and even doctoral degrees, and have come outside the realm of not just the Devadasi practice, but have also found the strength to fight gender, class and caste biases.
Soon, they started reaching out to young girls who were dedicated, explaining to them the power of letters. Devadasis, like Yellamma, convinced hundreds of young girls to continue education, thus breaking the chain. Thirty-five-year-old Yellamma’s desire to save other girls from the quandary stemmed from her own experience. She was dedicated when she was barely five years old. She recalls how she dreamt of her wedding ceremony every time a friend got married. (Child marriage is still practiced in the region despite efforts to prevent it).
She started wondering why no one at home talks of her marriage and got an answer much later, a couple of years after she began to menstruate. “I can’t explain my trauma when I came to know that a person with whom I can’t claim any relationship publicly has the ownership of my body, but will not own the children born out of the alliance.”
She was also bemused that the rigid caste system doesn’t apply to this practice, for men who form extramarital alliances with the Devadasis, are generally socially or economically privileged.
She is the second generation of Devadasis who joined the movement. Yellamma remembers sending many girls to residential schools after dedication. “Many of them are well-educated and happily married,” she says.
“It is their spirit to fight for justice and demand their rights that has kept this people’s movement strong and going,” says Mokshamma, one of the founder members of Navajeevana Mahila Okkoota.
A Dalit-turned-Christian, she can relate to the problems of these women and the power struggle at different levels. She and her colleagues have a sound knowledge of grassroot movements and this seems to have reinforced the initiative. They acknowledge that this initiative was built on the base created by Dalit Sangharsh Samiti and other organisations.
Other women to the fold
Their success story made other Dalit women approach the movement with their problems.
The Okkoota expanded its reach and purpose to embrace all deprived women and their families. Devadasi women led the way, motivating others to fight for their rights and government entitlements, and help them come out of their problems.
Their recent success was a step ahead in heralding the true spirit of the Panchayati system: Of a non-corrupt, non-political body governed by people who have a vision for the future of the village. In the recent gram panchayat elections, 498 candidates from NJMO and its sister organisation, Grameena Koolikaarmikara Sanghatane (Grakoos), have defied the political parties and won.
Take Akkamma, 50, for instance. She is a Devadasi who has been active in social struggles organised by NJMO for the past 10 years. As an active member of the organisation, she has helped people get their rightful entitlements — be it housing, work or village infrastructure. The villagers felt it would be good for the village if she is part of the system and convinced her to contest. Not to mention, she won by a huge margin.
“Now I have overcome the initial anxiety. I might need some time to get used to the way of work. But I won’t let anyone overshadow me. Anyway I have a feeling that it will be just an extension of my previous struggles,” the vice-president of Bayyapur Gram Panchayat says. She has a long list of priorities — from drinking water to proper roads. The person who was even scared to talk to a panchayat member now knows how to get work done at every district office, and doesn’t hesitate to meet the deputy commissioner when required. It is interesting to see how power equations have changed in the process.
“The village Gowda (leader, belonging to the dominant class) sat alongside us on a mat and sought our views on the election process, corruption, etc,” says Saroja in Manasalapura.
This gesture assumes significance as the Dalit colonies are generally located outside the main village. And this was Gowda’s first visit to the colony. “Earlier, he would send a messenger seeking votes for a candidate he supported. Now we have become a strong force to reckon with,” she beams.
In the five gram panchayats where they (NJMO and Grakoos) had a majority in the 2015 elections, the village infrastructure has improved and necessary work that was pending for years has been dealt with. Women members are also making their own decisions and are coming out of the influence of the male relatives — though at a snail’s pace.
Ambamma, who was the vice-president of the Devaragudi Gram Panchayat in the previous term, is a stellar example of what good work can deliver. When political parties didn’t see ‘hope’ in this upright panchayat member, they decided to field six candidates against her. She came up with a strategy; she didn’t file her nomination, instead, identified those who stayed true to the ideals of the panchayat raj system and ensured that they won. “She turned out to be a kingmaker this time,” says a villager.
A vile impediment
While many social, economic and political struggles have yielded positive results, there is one thing that Ningamma considers vile; something that defeats every other success: Untouchability.
They have devised a strategy for this too. They identify a common place for shramadan and invite people from all communities to join hands.
There is a clause though: everyone should pack lunch from home and sit together to eat. Five weeks ago, they had chosen the outer premises of a village temple inside which entry is barred for Dalits. All communities had gathered and work went well. But the dominant communities had conveniently forgotten to get lunch. This hasn’t gone unnoticed by Ningamma. “One day, we will make them understand that untouchability is horrid to those at the receiving end. One step at a time.”
Running a bank successfully
Interestingly, a people’s bank was formed by the women in 2009. They felt the need for this as women were taking loans at high interest. The women's preference being a cooperative society to a microfinance company, the Svabhimani Janapara Society was eventually set up.
The cooperative society has 16,000 shareholders of which less than 100 are men. The 17-member Board has 16 women. The effort will reach 20,000 families this year. Its turnover has increased from Rs 5,000 in 2009 to Rs 7.5 crore in a span of 13 years.
“Even top private bank officials were astonished when they learnt that the members are getting 300 per cent dividend every year for the past eight years. This is purely because people have taken ownership and are active participants in the society’s functioning,” says Abhay, an NJMO volunteer. The bank has 40 employees, most of them children of the shareholders.
A lurking evil
Even after three decades of being outlawed in the state, Devadasi system is still practiced in 15 districts of Karnataka. This is a regressive practice whereby girls are ‘married’ or dedicated to god at a young age. There are designated places of worship where this ritual is done. These days, the dedication happens discreetly. In Neginhal of Raichur district, a Devadasi is considered the wife of Lord Hanuman.
They are then sexually, economically and socially oppressed by society. In the current times, they are treated as nothing but sex slaves. A majority of the Devadasis are from Dalit communities. In fact, more than 80 per cent of the Devadasis in Karnataka are Madigas. Look at the irony: Once a Devadasi girl attains puberty, men, mostly from dominant communities (and generally married), who treat this community as untouchables in public, have a sexual relationship with her. This relationship is kept under wraps and the biological father has no compulsion to take care of the child and as per the customs, the children can’t tell their father’s name.
Only the mother’s name is mentioned in the birth certificate and school registry. Men can walk out of the relationship as and when they want, but women generally don’t do this and are protective of their partners. This is a no-strings-attached affair for men as they don’t have to support the Devadasis economically or socially. These women feed their families working in fields or as daily wagers.
A girl is made a Devadasi for these reasons: If she is from a family where the Devadasi system is practiced; If she is the only child — the fear is that if the girl moves out of the house after marriage, there will be no one to take care of the
parents or that the family assets will go to the person who marries the daughter. Or if the girl is physically challenged. Devadasis either live with their parents or in separate houses with their children.
From non-literates to power centres
In 2001, the founding members of NJMO, Abhay Kumar, Mokshamma, Virupamma, Manjula, Yallamma and Mallamma, consciously decided that the federation will be owned and led by the community.
Today, there are over 5,000 members and 400 volunteers or facilitators. Of them, 70 per cent are from Dalit and indigenous communities. The initial mission of the abolition of the Devadasi practice soon led to girl-child education, child marriage prevention, jobs to women, etc.
There is an annual membership of Rs 150, which is used for the federation’s activities. Now as the federation is expanding to other districts, it has been renamed Rajya Mahila Okkoota (RMO).