Subash Tora

Two Cultural Notes:

Last week was Diwali, the largest Hindu holiday, dedicated to Laxmi, Goddess of Wealth. It is like a combination of Christmas and New Years - gift-giving, buying new home or shop items, updating annual records, over-the-top decorations, fireworks, and sweets. People everywhere, even in the poorest areas, are refreshed with a new hope and outlook for the next year.

Everyone has heard of the "Untouchable" caste in Hindu philosophy and Indian society. While the caste system is becoming less and less significant, this sub-human class of humans are still struggling against prejudice and inequality. Often they are forced to travel separately, eat separately, and drink separate water. They have chosen the name 'Dalit', which means 'pulverized', over Gandhi's condescending 'Children of God'. Dr. BR Ambedkar, one of India's foremost humanitarians and the primary architect of the Indian Constitution, was also a Dalit who fought discrimination every day of his life. He is considered a national hero by the Dalits.



The Story of Subash Tora




the tree I was looking at when I met Subash Tora


Today I went to the Pataleshwar Cave Temple in Pune. After chatting with a Christian Indian who was convinced Muslims were dangerous and Pakistan wanted to take over India, and then with a young woman who was taking American dialect courses in order to work at a call center, I met Subash Tora. I think he was drunk, as he was talking fast and was very gregarious. He was very impressed by the Hindi I was able to respond with, and we decided to go have chai. He is a social worker that now can't find any work; he seemed accepting of his despair, but maybe that was the alcohol. He has a wife and three children. I offered to buy him some food, and in an amazingly delighted state we found a supply shop and bought 5kg each of rice, dal, a bean called jwarir, a few kg of sugar, and (on his insisting and the advice of the man at the counter) a bottle of coconut oil. I explained to him that my family and friends in America wanted me to help Indian people, on their behalf, and I explained that this was a gift for his family. He said it was enough for 8 days for his family of five. It all cost Rs. 333 ($7.50). He wanted me to meet his family, so we took a bus to the outskirts of Pune.


Subash with his food


Subash and most of his family, in their one-room home


His house is in what is considered a slum, but it is the most freshly-painted and well-decorated slum I've ever seen. It had more the air of a crowded village than an urban wasteland. His sons and daughter are all teenagers; the five of them live in one concrete room with a metal roof. There's a double bed, a TV on a bureau, a dresser, and a kitchen, all in 150 sq ft. He pointed out the three framed and blessed photographs of Dr. Ambedkar, and I started to think that maybe he was from the Dalit caste. This would explain the area he was living in, his inability to get a job, and maybe his last name ('tora' means little). So then life had dealt this sweet man and his wonderful family a crappy hand, and they were destined to be 'pulverized' for generations. (There was an incident with the water they offered me, which I didn't want to drink for my stomach's sake. I explained but they insisted it was clean, which probably had Dalit undercurrents.) He let his wife open the bag of food, like it were Christmas; it was probably the best Diwali present they hadn't been able to afford. I explained again that my family and friends in America wanted me to offer help and friendship to the Indian people I met. They were delighted, especially by the pictures I took.

Subash led me back to the bus stop, and explained to me that his son was ready to be married. This meant that they would bring a sixth person into their one-room house. He wanted to build a second story. Basically, he thought that with Rs. 3000 ($68) he could buy the materials, and his friends had offered their time and knowledge to help him in construction.

I had many hesitations. He didn't strike me as someone who was trying his hardest and had exhausted all options - he was wasting what money they had on alcohol instead of looking for work. He had succeeded in getting me to buy Rs. 333 of food when I thought Rs. 100 would suffice, so I forsaw some underestimating in his Rs. 3000 price. Couldn't I use the money more effectively by giving it to some social organization, which might then hire him (killing two birds with one stone)? And I didn't know if this was the right message to send to the village: go find a rich white person to solve your problems.

But alcoholism is a disease that he, and his family, need not be punished for. As a Dalit, his current state in life was probably not his fault. I felt I could stick to Rs. 3000 if I were clear. I could, in addition to this, make a donation to an organization hiring social workers. And if I worked to help build the house (which he said would take four days), I would be sharing not just money, but time, energy, and experience with him and his neighbors. I would get to learn about Indian construction, which I have been curious about, and get to befriend his neighborhood. Also, I feel that a new building can represent hope and growth and strength in facing the future.

So I offered to give Rs. 3000, and to help with the construction. We agreed to meet in two days, and I imagine it's now too late to change my mind. I feel that this is a good thing to do, as long as I do it the right way. It might end up being a mistake, but this is all an experiment anyway.