On my way to campus cutting across the grand city of Hyderabad and reaching the other end is a one and half hour journey if I start around 7am in the morning. And it is a three hour journey back to home in the evening since I get caught in the traffic grid lock. As the bus moves with frequent halts at the bus bays, my eyes used to get flashed with some interesting hoardings and bill boards that are tagged with the caste names.
Ambedkarism is an organized struggle for justice against all the odds and social discriminations that are being faced by historically excluded communities. This revolution comes from the fire that emanates from the burnt huts of all those suppressed people who are being undergoing the physical, social and psychological attacks.
Where should I start or how should I start screaming to those casteists in this country? My high pitched voice can never be audible to all these Indians even if I take assistance of the most efficient public address system.
If I was a Dalit girl and got raped in the tribal districts of Chhattisgarh or in North Eastern states by the Indian Army and other paramilitary force personnel who are protected by archaic and draconian laws like Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA), no one is going to rescue me. For I have to turn to another Phoolan Devi all by myself.