A review by joeesomething
Baluta by Daya Pawar

dark emotional sad tense medium-paced

4.0

There was no timetable for the Mahar's work. It was slavery, for he was bound to whatever work had to be done for all twenty-four hours of the day. This was called bigar labour...We were supposed to run in front of the horse of any important person who came into the village, tend his animals, feed and water them and give them medicines. We made the proclamations announcing funerals from village to village. We dragged away the carcasses of dead animals. We chopped firewood. We played music day and night at festivals and welcomed new bridegrooms at the village borders on their wedding days. For all this, what did we get? Baluta, our share of the village harvest. As a child, I would always go with my mother to claim our share.. Each Mahar would carry a coarse blanket. The farmers grumbled as they handed over the grain: "Low-born scum... always first in line to get your share. Do you think this is your father's grain?"

I actually liked the book a lot and gasped at many instances reading the atrocities faced by the Mahars. However, there was some element missing, maybe it's the distracted writing style, maybe it's understanding Daya Pawar or Dagdu as a person. The book is more about his personal life at times than the larger issue, which is okay but then not expected.

What I saw of this Maharki as a child has left its scars. This history will not be erased. Perhaps it will only go when I die. This stain of helplessness on my face? It dates back to that time. However much I scour my face, even to the point of bleeding, it will not be wiped away. 

I will still recommend this as a good Dalit non fiction recommendation.