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Baluta
What is special about Daya Pawar is his use of language which is not merely that of revolt but of a deeply introspecting analytical intellectual.
pu la Deshpande reviews "On reading this book the cataract of blind traditions stuck to our eyes that makes us unaware of facts will melt away in the tears that fill our eyes on seeing this horrifying reality will emerge new rays of hope. Reader will then seek to be more humane henceforth in life, What else is the intent of all good literature? Creating new kinship among mankind and free the society from artificial and vexing bonds, right? The same can be said for all Pawar’s literature."
pu la Deshpande reviews "On reading this book the cataract of blind traditions stuck to our eyes that makes us unaware of facts will melt away in the tears that fill our eyes on seeing this horrifying reality will emerge new rays of hope. Reader will then seek to be more humane henceforth in life, What else is the intent of all good literature? Creating new kinship among mankind and free the society from artificial and vexing bonds, right? The same can be said for all Pawar’s literature."
208 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1978
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1887 people want to read
About the author
Daya Pawar
12 books7 followersDaya Pawar or Dagdu Maruti Pawar (1935[1]–20 December 1996[2]) was born to a Mahar Dalit family in Dhamangaon (Taluka: Akole, District: Ahmednagar, Maharashtra, India), was a Marathi author and poet known for his contributions to Dalit literature that dealt with the atrocities experienced by the dalits or untouchables under the Hindu caste system.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 52 reviews
April 12, 2023
The life of a Dalit - an "untouchable" - may seem like an exaggerated dark fantasy to a non-Indian. To a privileged Indian (like me), it is a regrettable facet of our so-called golden culture which we like to keep hidden, from ourselves as well as others.
Have you ever turned over a random rock in your backyard just after the rains, to be disgusted by the festering putrescence underneath? Reading about Dalit lives had the same effect on me. Once I went below the shiny surface that India presented to the world had a look at the goo below, I was never again the same person.
Who is a Dalit? He is the miserable being that exists at the very bottom of the caste ladder in India. He is allowed to eke out his frugal existence in relative peace on the condition that he do all kinds of dirty jobs which the so-called "upper" castes consider beneath their dignity. His condition is a thousand times worse than that of a slave, because he cannot even buy his freedom: the chains on his hands and feet are the invisible ones put there by religion and society.
Daya Pawar was a Dalit. He belonged to the "Mahar" caste (to which one of India's founding fathers and the architect of our constitution, Dr. Ambedkar, belonged). Traditionally, they stayed in the "Maharwada" in their village, safely away from the upper-castes whom they were not allowed to pollute. They did jobs assigned to them as part of tradition to earn enough food to keep body and soul together.
Daya Pawar's autobiography is not a literary work (even though he himself is an award-winning poet in his native Marathi). It is a tale, told in a conversational tone, to an empathetic listener sitting across the table from him. Maybe both are having a cup (or many cups) of sweet cardamom chai in the Indian tradition. The tale rambles across time and space. Straightforward narrative is interspersed with the author's musings and opinions. Sometimes he loses the thread completely only to stumble back after a few pages.
Yet it is compelling - because of its brutal honesty. There are no heroes or heroines here, just ordinary human beings trying to live a decent life with the limited means available to them. And some of them, like Pawar, daring to dream above their station in life - and sometimes achieving it, but mostly failing.
The author was born in 1935, in the heady years before India became a nation. He lived to see the "freedom" dream turn into a nightmare, at least for Dalits. A free India just meant that power had passed from the hands of the white sahibs to the brown sahibs. Dr. Ambedkar, who spearheaded a movement for Dalits to escape from the religious bonds of Hinduism, was stymied by Gandhi who for all his credentials as a social reformer, was a staunch Hindu who wanted the caste system to stay in place - he just wanted to abolish untouchability. After Ambedkar's death, Dalit movements fragmented into pieces, leaving the communities mostly where they were at the beginning.
This is, of course, only the backdrop. The story is a highly personal one, of an ordinary guy who struggled to come up from the very bottom with pluck, hard work and a bit of luck. But Pawar has been brutally honest while portraying himself as a flawed human being with some redeeming qualities.
One can't help thinking - had the author been born into a privileged family, wouldn't he have progressed much further? So, isn't the "merit" we talk about, largely a product of privilege?
Maybe that's the point of writing such life stories.
Have you ever turned over a random rock in your backyard just after the rains, to be disgusted by the festering putrescence underneath? Reading about Dalit lives had the same effect on me. Once I went below the shiny surface that India presented to the world had a look at the goo below, I was never again the same person.
Who is a Dalit? He is the miserable being that exists at the very bottom of the caste ladder in India. He is allowed to eke out his frugal existence in relative peace on the condition that he do all kinds of dirty jobs which the so-called "upper" castes consider beneath their dignity. His condition is a thousand times worse than that of a slave, because he cannot even buy his freedom: the chains on his hands and feet are the invisible ones put there by religion and society.
Daya Pawar was a Dalit. He belonged to the "Mahar" caste (to which one of India's founding fathers and the architect of our constitution, Dr. Ambedkar, belonged). Traditionally, they stayed in the "Maharwada" in their village, safely away from the upper-castes whom they were not allowed to pollute. They did jobs assigned to them as part of tradition to earn enough food to keep body and soul together.
There was no timetable for the Mahar's work.It is only fitting that the title of one of the first Dalit biographies published in India should be titled Baluta - the food of shame consumed by the "untouchable" because he too must live: however miserable a life it may be.
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?"
Daya Pawar's autobiography is not a literary work (even though he himself is an award-winning poet in his native Marathi). It is a tale, told in a conversational tone, to an empathetic listener sitting across the table from him. Maybe both are having a cup (or many cups) of sweet cardamom chai in the Indian tradition. The tale rambles across time and space. Straightforward narrative is interspersed with the author's musings and opinions. Sometimes he loses the thread completely only to stumble back after a few pages.
Yet it is compelling - because of its brutal honesty. There are no heroes or heroines here, just ordinary human beings trying to live a decent life with the limited means available to them. And some of them, like Pawar, daring to dream above their station in life - and sometimes achieving it, but mostly failing.
The author was born in 1935, in the heady years before India became a nation. He lived to see the "freedom" dream turn into a nightmare, at least for Dalits. A free India just meant that power had passed from the hands of the white sahibs to the brown sahibs. Dr. Ambedkar, who spearheaded a movement for Dalits to escape from the religious bonds of Hinduism, was stymied by Gandhi who for all his credentials as a social reformer, was a staunch Hindu who wanted the caste system to stay in place - he just wanted to abolish untouchability. After Ambedkar's death, Dalit movements fragmented into pieces, leaving the communities mostly where they were at the beginning.
This is, of course, only the backdrop. The story is a highly personal one, of an ordinary guy who struggled to come up from the very bottom with pluck, hard work and a bit of luck. But Pawar has been brutally honest while portraying himself as a flawed human being with some redeeming qualities.
One can't help thinking - had the author been born into a privileged family, wouldn't he have progressed much further? So, isn't the "merit" we talk about, largely a product of privilege?
Maybe that's the point of writing such life stories.
May 3, 2019
This was a slow, tough read. A bitter pill to swallow. A morsel of food that refused to go down easily.
Daya Pawar’s account of his life as a Mahar (Dalit) in ‘Baluta’ is as detailed as it is stoic, almost as if he were a mere observer, detached from his own experiences.
His memories weave in and out of a semi-linear timeline, giving us a short glimpse of an event at one point and explaining it at another. What remain constant are Dagdu Maruti Pawar’s attempts at rising above the shackles of his caste and his frustration at failing each time.
Set partly in rural Maharashtra and partly in Bombay, the events in this book, pre and post Ambedkar, highlight the country’s complete lack of empathy where Dalits and their sub-castes are concerned. The cruelty they face at the hands of the upper classes are horrifying at first, numbing later. Pawar, himself a victim of archaic practices and prejudices, blames his own people for allowing themselves to get complacent and fighting among themselves instead of fighting the system. However, he is quick to mention that this is entirely HIS opinion.
What makes this book special is the writer’s vulnerability when it comes to his aspirations and desires. He studies hard so he can get a good job and marry above his stature. He repeatedly mentions his “very educated wife” and you can feel his sense of achievement. He constantly berates himself for being spineless, in both, matters of the heart and of the mind, wanting to take a stand but lacking the courage. Each of his accounts hit me like a bullet, making me question my understanding of the country I live in and my people. Jerry Pinto’s footnotes are definitely a big help!
Replete with references to Marathi literature and the Dalit movement in India, this book should be read and re-read, over and over again, not only because it’s an important book, but is a reminder of how corrosive the caste system truly is.
Daya Pawar’s account of his life as a Mahar (Dalit) in ‘Baluta’ is as detailed as it is stoic, almost as if he were a mere observer, detached from his own experiences.
His memories weave in and out of a semi-linear timeline, giving us a short glimpse of an event at one point and explaining it at another. What remain constant are Dagdu Maruti Pawar’s attempts at rising above the shackles of his caste and his frustration at failing each time.
Set partly in rural Maharashtra and partly in Bombay, the events in this book, pre and post Ambedkar, highlight the country’s complete lack of empathy where Dalits and their sub-castes are concerned. The cruelty they face at the hands of the upper classes are horrifying at first, numbing later. Pawar, himself a victim of archaic practices and prejudices, blames his own people for allowing themselves to get complacent and fighting among themselves instead of fighting the system. However, he is quick to mention that this is entirely HIS opinion.
What makes this book special is the writer’s vulnerability when it comes to his aspirations and desires. He studies hard so he can get a good job and marry above his stature. He repeatedly mentions his “very educated wife” and you can feel his sense of achievement. He constantly berates himself for being spineless, in both, matters of the heart and of the mind, wanting to take a stand but lacking the courage. Each of his accounts hit me like a bullet, making me question my understanding of the country I live in and my people. Jerry Pinto’s footnotes are definitely a big help!
Replete with references to Marathi literature and the Dalit movement in India, this book should be read and re-read, over and over again, not only because it’s an important book, but is a reminder of how corrosive the caste system truly is.
December 2, 2018
My main issue with this book (in reality with myself) is that I did not really feel as strongly as this story demanded I should. Or to make myself the 'object' & deflect responsibility - I was not 'impacted' by the book as much as I needed to or should have when I rethink now about some of the horrific things I read.
Two reasons for this in all probability -
1) We have become numbed to reading about the sufferings of fellow human beings around us to the extent that we've already imagined the worst and it would take a lot more to shock me any more. The shock I felt later was not so much about the incidents he has described but more around how blasé he was about them.
2) Pawar's matter-of-fact style of exposition and it's translation kind of normalises this. I almost think I have been conditioned to need a raving Arnab equivalent, frothing at the mouth around the injustice of it all for it to make me feel bad about it.
Nevertheless, it is an eye-opener of a book - which kind of tells us where some of the other less members of our society actually started from and why having discussions on privilege and equality and affirmative action without living these lives is merely lip service. It is brutally honest - when the author talks about himself, his family, the community and how they fell short as well and I truly hope parts of it are mandatory reading in the school textbooks of the future at least.
I'm assuming this was not an easy book to translate given the tonality, and it is evidently jarring in some places but Jerry Pinto is a boon to Marathi literature for making it accessible to new generations and audiences, circumventing the barriers of language. And while there are many, I wish future editions have more footnotes - I had to rely on Wikipedia quite frequently - as we grow further from the era in which this book was written a lot of the characters, political movements, places and incidences will be unfamiliar to newer audiences like myself.
Two reasons for this in all probability -
1) We have become numbed to reading about the sufferings of fellow human beings around us to the extent that we've already imagined the worst and it would take a lot more to shock me any more. The shock I felt later was not so much about the incidents he has described but more around how blasé he was about them.
2) Pawar's matter-of-fact style of exposition and it's translation kind of normalises this. I almost think I have been conditioned to need a raving Arnab equivalent, frothing at the mouth around the injustice of it all for it to make me feel bad about it.
Nevertheless, it is an eye-opener of a book - which kind of tells us where some of the other less members of our society actually started from and why having discussions on privilege and equality and affirmative action without living these lives is merely lip service. It is brutally honest - when the author talks about himself, his family, the community and how they fell short as well and I truly hope parts of it are mandatory reading in the school textbooks of the future at least.
I'm assuming this was not an easy book to translate given the tonality, and it is evidently jarring in some places but Jerry Pinto is a boon to Marathi literature for making it accessible to new generations and audiences, circumventing the barriers of language. And while there are many, I wish future editions have more footnotes - I had to rely on Wikipedia quite frequently - as we grow further from the era in which this book was written a lot of the characters, political movements, places and incidences will be unfamiliar to newer audiences like myself.
July 30, 2016
So glad I finished this book. It was an exercise in masochism to be honest. Am not blaming either the author or the translator for that. Just that his life that he describes, so far removed from the privilege we are used to, isn't easy to read. Imagine having to grow up through all that. But it's interesting and also gives you hope about life, that in between all the hardships one faces, there are always phases or moments when one finds some happiness, or at least moments where one can forget all that one is going through and live. During some of the most difficult days of my life, I find that very powerful. Something to cling on to.
May 13, 2021
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.
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.
July 2, 2021
So I have heard once my mother saying how lucky some people in our area are because they ripe the benefits of a Government service under 4th class labour. They work in Calcutta Medical College Hospital and those post seems to pass on in the family as if no one applies for them. By caste these people are what we call mathor - the people who we as upper caste people have forced to clean shit for centuries and yet when they are now profiting of it and are better well of then the so called higher caste us, we see an injustice there also.
Funnily my mother herself is from a lower caste while my father is whatever that comes next to Brahmins in this society. She wouldn't ever accept that she is OBC, its like no one is my maternal side will ever do. They have washed off their hands from their caste for years and years.
I was kind of afraid to read this book because I thought it was gonna be tortures but it wasn't. It was just very real, some struggles I can relate to, some I can't even imagine in my wildest dreams as an upper caste woman.
But I also have to say , whose life could be harder than a Dalit man ? And the answer is a dalit woman. There was so misogyny in Pawar's lifestory, some he himself showed though he was educated. Sometimes it was hard to feel sympathy.
Nevertheless I learned a lot and it made me more aware and it future when it comes to caste struggle I'll read only own voices because how much woke we try to be, we're not Dalits and those stories are not ours to say.
Funnily my mother herself is from a lower caste while my father is whatever that comes next to Brahmins in this society. She wouldn't ever accept that she is OBC, its like no one is my maternal side will ever do. They have washed off their hands from their caste for years and years.
I was kind of afraid to read this book because I thought it was gonna be tortures but it wasn't. It was just very real, some struggles I can relate to, some I can't even imagine in my wildest dreams as an upper caste woman.
But I also have to say , whose life could be harder than a Dalit man ? And the answer is a dalit woman. There was so misogyny in Pawar's lifestory, some he himself showed though he was educated. Sometimes it was hard to feel sympathy.
Nevertheless I learned a lot and it made me more aware and it future when it comes to caste struggle I'll read only own voices because how much woke we try to be, we're not Dalits and those stories are not ours to say.
March 2, 2018
Baluta is a collection of memories. Memories of a life trapped in the fetters of India's social structures. The frustration and helplessness of being born a Dalit, and the inner conflict that roils in the writer's mind as a result of his education, something he thought would be the means to an escape from his downtrodden life, but ends up being the agent of his lifelong distress. At one point, feeling ashamed of living off his old mother's earnings despite being educated, he says
"What was her work? The hardscrabble of collecting and selling paper? What dignity did society offer her for her labour? The question of dignity had been put into my head by my education. no one around me seemed much concerned by it. When you don't know that you're supposed to be unhappy, you can chug along quite well; only I was being hollowed out from within, as a tree by termites.".
The blurb on the book's back cover describes how the book, when it was first published in 1978, hit upper caste readers and critics between the eyes, with its graphic and candid narrative, holding nothing back. But as I read the book, I realised that even though I sympathised with Pawar's condition, the details of his plight did not "hit me hard", and his story did not emotionally move me.
I wondered what that said about me or us as a society living with the privilege of not being born Dalit. Are we so far removed from the oppression of the caste system that we fail to acknowledge or recognise the realities of those who never had a choice in the matter? Or are we so overexposed to these inequalities that it has taken on a normalcy to the extent that we have become numb to its existence? Or is it just an inconvenient truth that we'd rather not deal with until it affects us directly.
I don't think there is any foreseeable solution to the deeply entrenched and prevailing caste system in India anytime soon; there are too many vested interests and power dynamics that won't allow it to end. But I do think that books like these have an important role to play, because they force us to see what we'd rather not and compel us to ask ourselves some difficult questions that might in some small way change how we operate in our more privileged lives and contexts, and not contribute to the existing caste divisions and prejudices.
"What was her work? The hardscrabble of collecting and selling paper? What dignity did society offer her for her labour? The question of dignity had been put into my head by my education. no one around me seemed much concerned by it. When you don't know that you're supposed to be unhappy, you can chug along quite well; only I was being hollowed out from within, as a tree by termites.".
The blurb on the book's back cover describes how the book, when it was first published in 1978, hit upper caste readers and critics between the eyes, with its graphic and candid narrative, holding nothing back. But as I read the book, I realised that even though I sympathised with Pawar's condition, the details of his plight did not "hit me hard", and his story did not emotionally move me.
I wondered what that said about me or us as a society living with the privilege of not being born Dalit. Are we so far removed from the oppression of the caste system that we fail to acknowledge or recognise the realities of those who never had a choice in the matter? Or are we so overexposed to these inequalities that it has taken on a normalcy to the extent that we have become numb to its existence? Or is it just an inconvenient truth that we'd rather not deal with until it affects us directly.
I don't think there is any foreseeable solution to the deeply entrenched and prevailing caste system in India anytime soon; there are too many vested interests and power dynamics that won't allow it to end. But I do think that books like these have an important role to play, because they force us to see what we'd rather not and compel us to ask ourselves some difficult questions that might in some small way change how we operate in our more privileged lives and contexts, and not contribute to the existing caste divisions and prejudices.
April 30, 2022
“I have tried my best to forget my past. But the past is stubborn, it will not be erased so easily. Many Dalits may see what I am doing here as someone picking through a pile of garbage. A scavenger’s account of his life. But he who does not know his past cannot direct his future.”
I finished Baby Kamble's The Prisons We Broke for my book club just the other day and it's very rewarding to consider Baluta alongside it since they both depict the daily lives of the Mahars in Maharashtra around the same time period. The artistic differences, not least in terms of accent and voice, are myriad but both autobiographies center the normalized violence and oppression faced by Dalits at the hands of a caste-infected society and how discrimination doesn't just end due to legislation but continues and in fact morphs into increasingly derogatory iterations.
Pawar is definitely less concerned with societal aspects, unlike Kamble whose book is called a "socio-biography". Any and all discussion of the socio-political aspects of Mahar life arise from Pawar's or his family's experiences. A very fascinating aspect of the autobiography is that it is not too hung up on flawless chronology. The narrator persona of Pawar, as opposed to the actual writer, recounts his past in the order he remembers it—making associations, going on tangents, jumping in time. Appropriately, It's a great way to explicate the meaning of "Dalit".
February 4, 2017
Well, after reading this book the first thing that came to my mind was Shanta Gokhale's preface in the book and how she speaks about daily reports of Dalit atrocities blunting our sensibilities. I felt no shock. In fact I was quite distressed about the fact that the book did not trouble me immediately. Another part of me was very tormented and wanted to completing shut off my thoughts . I felt helpless. It filled with rage and despair.
I've read the book both in English and Marathi. Daya Pawar comes across as brutally honest and reflective. He states things as they are without trying to defend anyone or anything, nor himself or his caste. He is just himself. He spills his dark secrets and fears, happiness and sorrows, shame and dilemmas with extreme clarity. The way he goes back and forth while writing was a little confusing for me personally but the narrative style might not trouble everyone.
It is an unpleasant book to read filled with details of atrocities that most of simply turn a blind eye to in our daily lives. While reading the book, I felt like it was a confrontation with this attitude, like the book dared me to ignore the caste discrimination ingrained in our society. But I am extremely glad I read it. I intend to gift it to a lot of friends.
Lastly, Jerry Pinto. That man is a gift to Marathi literature. He translated 'Cobalt Blue', 'Baluta' and now Vandana Mishra's 'I, the Salt Doll'. And he is extremely good at it, he did not compromise anywhere with Daya Pawar's original work. It comes as close as it can.
I've read the book both in English and Marathi. Daya Pawar comes across as brutally honest and reflective. He states things as they are without trying to defend anyone or anything, nor himself or his caste. He is just himself. He spills his dark secrets and fears, happiness and sorrows, shame and dilemmas with extreme clarity. The way he goes back and forth while writing was a little confusing for me personally but the narrative style might not trouble everyone.
It is an unpleasant book to read filled with details of atrocities that most of simply turn a blind eye to in our daily lives. While reading the book, I felt like it was a confrontation with this attitude, like the book dared me to ignore the caste discrimination ingrained in our society. But I am extremely glad I read it. I intend to gift it to a lot of friends.
Lastly, Jerry Pinto. That man is a gift to Marathi literature. He translated 'Cobalt Blue', 'Baluta' and now Vandana Mishra's 'I, the Salt Doll'. And he is extremely good at it, he did not compromise anywhere with Daya Pawar's original work. It comes as close as it can.
August 17, 2018
I picked up Baluta after I read about the life and times of another Dalit poet, writer and activist Lal Dil Singh of Punjab that led me to look up Dalit writings. While the oppression faced by many of India’s people on the basis of their caste or religion continues to this day and age, this book is a deep refection on not just the injustice brought on by the caste system but a brutally honest examination of power play within the oppressed. Daya Pawar spares none: not his community, not the high caste people, not the politicians, not the authorities, not his family and certainly not himself when it comes to critiquing practices, belief systems, personal principles, politics and taking a position.
This book takes readers to the socio cultural and politics of Maharashtra in the 50s and 60s that were prevalent in its rural areas but also in the city where the trappings of caste plays itself out. Pawar’s account and insights into the Dalit movement and its leaders, the activism and its subsequent failings are put matter of fact. While the author’s manner of writing reaches out to the reader in me, I couldn’t help feeling that the use of ‘Mumbai’ is a bit out of place in the book considering that this book captures much of the 50s to the early 70’s when ‘Bombay’ was what the city was called and known as. Would recommend this book to non fiction lovers and those interested in Dalit literature.
July 2, 2017
Baluta- autobiography of Daya Pawar narrates the conditions of society in Maharashtra during his life. The lesson from this autobiography is that a person must get education and this will bring him in the main stream of the society at large. Buluata is custom of giving grain after harvest to Mahars of teh village because they have contributed to the crop- in lieu of their service as water supplier, cobbler, basket weaver, dispose dead animals etc. He has written about his marriage and affairs with muslim women living near his house in the chawl. The better part which happened to his life was that after the death of this father, his mother could not manage the home affairs and can to Mumbai to live near the house of her sister. Mumbai is a land of opportunities and Daya Pawar got education, lived in a hostel and completed higher studies also. Here Pawar got the facility of library . He could read book- Marathi and world literature and develop the capability to write poems and ultimately his autobiography.
November 6, 2014
i read many books but today complete baluta the one thing i found daya pawar greatest writer i ever seen .............
August 1, 2020
Baluta is one of the first Dalit autobiographies that follows the life journey of Dagdu (Daya) Pawar, who is a Mahar, from Dhamangaon to Mumbai. Pawar traces the realities of the obnoxious caste system which is deeply entrenched in the Indian society and describes the repercussions it has on the lives of the people forced to live on the fringes of society/community. He describes the 'tasks' that were allotted to his community, the punishment and penance they had to bear, the things they were 'not allowed' to do, the insults they had to endure, the way they learnt to endure those insults without speaking back, the rise of Ambedkar movement, the fault lines in Dalit movement, how politics took a centre stage and led to corruption of the movement, his own shortcomings, his own criticism and his love for reading, which probably saved him.
It is so strange listening to someone's terrible ordeals and not feel it hitting your bones. But maybe he intended it to be like that. Maybe he did not intend it to be documentation of oppressive structures of our society, maybe he did not want this book to be a testament against the evils of caste system. Maybe he just wanted to write about his life, his childhood, his reading, his family, his growing up in village and Taluka schools, his first job, his activism, his life in Mumbai and his heartbreaks. I read one of the other reviews which said the book did not affect the reader in a way it should have or one expected it to hit, maybe because we are so used to reading such atrocities on a daily basis that it will take an earth-shattering event to wake us up from our reverie and take notice. This is a heartbreaking and unsettling feeling for me.
I also noticed that DP does not explicitly condemn any other caste, any other religion, any other community (he does mention which caste was doing what) by targeting his statements at them. He just wonders to himself and in the process, leaves us with questions at what could have happened if things were different and what could not happen because of status quo. This book also feels like a dialogue which he was having with himself, asking himself those questions, coaxing him to confront his meekness and cowardness (in his own words) and also figuring out how he could have acted or behaved at a particular time.
The translation by Jerry Pinto is flawless. He has tried to capture the flavour of the original text with a sprinkling of Marathi words, phrases, idioms, songs and book names. He also has annotated the text wherever necessary to give us more information on the mentioned event/individual.
It is so strange listening to someone's terrible ordeals and not feel it hitting your bones. But maybe he intended it to be like that. Maybe he did not intend it to be documentation of oppressive structures of our society, maybe he did not want this book to be a testament against the evils of caste system. Maybe he just wanted to write about his life, his childhood, his reading, his family, his growing up in village and Taluka schools, his first job, his activism, his life in Mumbai and his heartbreaks. I read one of the other reviews which said the book did not affect the reader in a way it should have or one expected it to hit, maybe because we are so used to reading such atrocities on a daily basis that it will take an earth-shattering event to wake us up from our reverie and take notice. This is a heartbreaking and unsettling feeling for me.
I also noticed that DP does not explicitly condemn any other caste, any other religion, any other community (he does mention which caste was doing what) by targeting his statements at them. He just wonders to himself and in the process, leaves us with questions at what could have happened if things were different and what could not happen because of status quo. This book also feels like a dialogue which he was having with himself, asking himself those questions, coaxing him to confront his meekness and cowardness (in his own words) and also figuring out how he could have acted or behaved at a particular time.
The translation by Jerry Pinto is flawless. He has tried to capture the flavour of the original text with a sprinkling of Marathi words, phrases, idioms, songs and book names. He also has annotated the text wherever necessary to give us more information on the mentioned event/individual.
May 12, 2023
Baluta, a memoir by Daya Pawar, is an unflinching exploration of the author's life as a Dalit in post-independence India. This deeply personal account offers readers an intimate glimpse into the harsh realities of caste-based discrimination, poverty, and the struggle for identity.
Pawar's writing style is hauntingly raw, yet elegant in its simplicity. His words cut through the heart, exposing the wounds inflicted upon him and countless others due to their marginalized status. Through vivid descriptions and poignant anecdotes, he paints a vivid picture of the oppressive social order that shaped his existence. His ability to convey the depth of human emotion, ranging from despair to resilience, is nothing short of remarkable.
One of the book's greatest strengths lies in its unapologetic honesty. His narrative pulls no punches, challenging societal norms and exposing the hypocrisy that perpetuates the caste system. The author's courage to confront the uncomfortable truths of his own community, as well as the wider society, is both commendable and eye-opening. It forces readers to confront their own biases and complicity in perpetuating such systems of injustice.
Baluta also offers a nuanced portrayal of the human spirit's indomitable nature. Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against him, Pawar's determination to rise above his circumstances and reclaim his dignity shines through. His unwavering belief in the power of education and knowledge to transcend societal boundaries serves as an inspiration to all.
Furthermore, vivid descriptions of rural Maharashtra immerse readers in the sights, sounds, and smells of his environment. The book becomes an immersive journey through time and space, allowing readers to witness firsthand the struggles and triumphs of a marginalized community.
This book is an essential literary work that demands attention and introspection. Daya Pawar's fearless storytelling and his unwavering commitment to truth make this memoir a powerful and thought-provoking read. This book is for anyone seeking a deeper understanding of the human experience and a call to action against social injustice, also quite important book in Dalit literature.
Pawar's writing style is hauntingly raw, yet elegant in its simplicity. His words cut through the heart, exposing the wounds inflicted upon him and countless others due to their marginalized status. Through vivid descriptions and poignant anecdotes, he paints a vivid picture of the oppressive social order that shaped his existence. His ability to convey the depth of human emotion, ranging from despair to resilience, is nothing short of remarkable.
One of the book's greatest strengths lies in its unapologetic honesty. His narrative pulls no punches, challenging societal norms and exposing the hypocrisy that perpetuates the caste system. The author's courage to confront the uncomfortable truths of his own community, as well as the wider society, is both commendable and eye-opening. It forces readers to confront their own biases and complicity in perpetuating such systems of injustice.
Baluta also offers a nuanced portrayal of the human spirit's indomitable nature. Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against him, Pawar's determination to rise above his circumstances and reclaim his dignity shines through. His unwavering belief in the power of education and knowledge to transcend societal boundaries serves as an inspiration to all.
Furthermore, vivid descriptions of rural Maharashtra immerse readers in the sights, sounds, and smells of his environment. The book becomes an immersive journey through time and space, allowing readers to witness firsthand the struggles and triumphs of a marginalized community.
This book is an essential literary work that demands attention and introspection. Daya Pawar's fearless storytelling and his unwavering commitment to truth make this memoir a powerful and thought-provoking read. This book is for anyone seeking a deeper understanding of the human experience and a call to action against social injustice, also quite important book in Dalit literature.
July 12, 2019
A book about the author’s battle with his personal demons and the sacrifices of his mother. She is the real “hero” of this narrative. Her struggles are multiplied as she is a woman, a widow, from the so called ‘lower caste’, living in grinding poverty, a son who does not acknowledge her often, suffers from diseases due to poor nutrition and hygiene and so on.
I can identify with the practice of baluta. I recall the village manual scavengers during my childhood who would not take money but come twice a year (post-rabi and -kharif harvesting) to claim their share of grain. Thankfully this reprehensible and shameful practice of manual scavenging has been done away with.
But the trend persists in a subtle fashion. Like the job the author gets as a laboratory assistant in a Veterinary College, where his job is sorting out faecal samples of sick animals, cleaning sweeping jobs in hospitals, offices and municipalities are still claimed by the euphemistically named (thanks to Gandhi) ‘People of Gods’. Sadly, it is as if these jobs appear to have been ingrained genetically into them.
Parochialism and caste are two concepts that are holding back our country from progress. Reservations in the name of affirmative action have really not helped remove these socioeconomic barriers – if anything, they divide has deepened the antagonism between castes.
Take the example of the Indian infantry (this is irrelevant in other arms of the Army, the Navy and the Air-force). Regiments are still named according to caste (Mahar Regiment, Jat Regiment, Rajput Regiment, Dogra Regiment, Naga Regiment, Maratha Light Infantry), region (Rajputana Rifles, Bihar Regiment J&K Light Infantry, Madras Regiment, Garwhal Rifles, Assam Regiment) and religion (Sikh Regiment, Sikh Light Infantry). Some of these regiments have been in existence since the 1700s albeit under a British moniker. To remove caste overtones these regiments should have neutral, yet martial sounding, names like The Grenadiers or the Brigade of the Guards.
I can identify with the practice of baluta. I recall the village manual scavengers during my childhood who would not take money but come twice a year (post-rabi and -kharif harvesting) to claim their share of grain. Thankfully this reprehensible and shameful practice of manual scavenging has been done away with.
But the trend persists in a subtle fashion. Like the job the author gets as a laboratory assistant in a Veterinary College, where his job is sorting out faecal samples of sick animals, cleaning sweeping jobs in hospitals, offices and municipalities are still claimed by the euphemistically named (thanks to Gandhi) ‘People of Gods’. Sadly, it is as if these jobs appear to have been ingrained genetically into them.
Parochialism and caste are two concepts that are holding back our country from progress. Reservations in the name of affirmative action have really not helped remove these socioeconomic barriers – if anything, they divide has deepened the antagonism between castes.
Take the example of the Indian infantry (this is irrelevant in other arms of the Army, the Navy and the Air-force). Regiments are still named according to caste (Mahar Regiment, Jat Regiment, Rajput Regiment, Dogra Regiment, Naga Regiment, Maratha Light Infantry), region (Rajputana Rifles, Bihar Regiment J&K Light Infantry, Madras Regiment, Garwhal Rifles, Assam Regiment) and religion (Sikh Regiment, Sikh Light Infantry). Some of these regiments have been in existence since the 1700s albeit under a British moniker. To remove caste overtones these regiments should have neutral, yet martial sounding, names like The Grenadiers or the Brigade of the Guards.
May 2, 2021
“Education is a double-edged sword. It leads you to expect equality with your fellow students. That equality is not granted to you; but having college education distances you from your own people.”
Baluta is an Autobiography of poet Daya Pawar (Dagdu Maruti Pawar). It is translated by Jerry Pinto into English. Again and again Daya Pawar refers to how reading books gave him a glimpse of life that was not his people’s, this book talks about the challenges he faced as a child being the member of Mahar caste. Author talks about the society and beliefs around him that how womanizing is treated as a badge of honour. Books talking about books is my favorite genre, most of the time author shares his love for books and literature and the hunger he felt for reading books. I would say Daya Pawar’s life is effected by the women around him i.e his mother and wife and his daughter. Its a great story to be read and to be shared.
Few favorite lines from the book
1. A young man married is a young man marred.
2. Poetry saved me from madness
3. When you’re corrupt to the core, why worry about your skin?
4. I’m already intoxicated with life, a natural intoxication that makes the high of alcohol seem pale in comparison
5. The poison of reading took the last few simple pleasures left to me
Baluta is an Autobiography of poet Daya Pawar (Dagdu Maruti Pawar). It is translated by Jerry Pinto into English. Again and again Daya Pawar refers to how reading books gave him a glimpse of life that was not his people’s, this book talks about the challenges he faced as a child being the member of Mahar caste. Author talks about the society and beliefs around him that how womanizing is treated as a badge of honour. Books talking about books is my favorite genre, most of the time author shares his love for books and literature and the hunger he felt for reading books. I would say Daya Pawar’s life is effected by the women around him i.e his mother and wife and his daughter. Its a great story to be read and to be shared.
Few favorite lines from the book
1. A young man married is a young man marred.
2. Poetry saved me from madness
3. When you’re corrupt to the core, why worry about your skin?
4. I’m already intoxicated with life, a natural intoxication that makes the high of alcohol seem pale in comparison
5. The poison of reading took the last few simple pleasures left to me
August 23, 2017
Baluta is the story of a Mahar poet and writer from western Maharashtra, Daya M. Pawar. J. Pinto's translation of Pawar's autobiography is excellent though while reading the book, I wondered if someone unfamiliar with the Indian [rural] society would be able to make sense of how multiple axes of social power (re)produce the highly hierarchized Indian society. Nevertheless, I would recommend this book to anyone with an interest in studying the politics of identity formation, stigmatization, systemic violence, masculinities, and the good old class/identity debates. For scholars of South Asian cultural politics, this book will have a special significance. The last couple of years have seen a resurgence of Dalit politics, from Gujarat and Maharashtra in the west to Bengal in the east. Dalit political formations are constructing their own popular culture (music, mass advertising), looking up to new icons while continuing to celebrate Ambedkar, and fashioning new terms of [very assertive] engagements with party-politics. This book will help at least partly historicize the current political conjuncture in India in a meaningful way. As a story as well, this book is a fairly easy read.
June 19, 2020
The original Marathi edition of Baluta has captivating cover art. It shows a sketch of a crow perched on the rim of an earthen pot, dropping pebbles in the pot, but completely oblivious to the glaring crack running down the pot. I remember that image from a copy lying in one corner of a bookshelf, but I was too young then to be interested. To me, this was just a sign of the artist trying to convey a sense of irony.
When I was in college I attempted reading Baluta in the original Marathi (Jerry Pinto's is the only translation, which was published in 2015), but I couldn't get beyond the first hundred pages. It was grotesque. Daya Pawar challenged civilized sensibilities with every word he penned. And that effect is far more pronounced in your mother tongue. When a born and raised Nagpurkar moves to Pune for studies and hears a very different Marathi, he thinks he's heard the worst the Marathi language has to offer. But the world of Baluta is so alien, that it may well exist in a parallel universe. (P. L. Deshpande पु. ल. देशपांडे and Vijay Tendulkar were once invited, according to Urmila Pawar, to write a preface to one of Namdeo Dhasal's poems. They were shocked at how alien the language and the life of Dalits was to them. And considering how learned these men were, that is saying something.)
And that's only about the language and the storytelling. Of course it's vulgar. It borders on the pornographic. You find it fascinating because it has never happened to you. If I said that the appeal of Baluta was only in its language, I would be missing the point.
As you get accustomed to the language, the storytelling and the aesthetics of Baluta, slowly, a very different world emerges. A world of scavengers, drunks, prostitutes, gangsters. A world of privilege and oppression, of aspirations and politics. By now, the reader doesn't care about the language. It is the only vocabulary anyone possesses to be able to effectively talk about this world.
The English translation makes Baluta a little more palatable, but no less painful. I imagine Jerry Pinto would have been very frustrated at how much of Baluta has been lost in translation.
The slums of Ahmedabad were walled up when Donald Trump visited the city. Perhaps that was all it took to make ourselves pretty for Trump. Ahmedabad was magically transformed into a city without poverty overnight. There are many more such walls beyond which, I promise you, we will never see. This translation is a humble peephole.
When I was in college I attempted reading Baluta in the original Marathi (Jerry Pinto's is the only translation, which was published in 2015), but I couldn't get beyond the first hundred pages. It was grotesque. Daya Pawar challenged civilized sensibilities with every word he penned. And that effect is far more pronounced in your mother tongue. When a born and raised Nagpurkar moves to Pune for studies and hears a very different Marathi, he thinks he's heard the worst the Marathi language has to offer. But the world of Baluta is so alien, that it may well exist in a parallel universe. (P. L. Deshpande पु. ल. देशपांडे and Vijay Tendulkar were once invited, according to Urmila Pawar, to write a preface to one of Namdeo Dhasal's poems. They were shocked at how alien the language and the life of Dalits was to them. And considering how learned these men were, that is saying something.)
And that's only about the language and the storytelling. Of course it's vulgar. It borders on the pornographic. You find it fascinating because it has never happened to you. If I said that the appeal of Baluta was only in its language, I would be missing the point.
As you get accustomed to the language, the storytelling and the aesthetics of Baluta, slowly, a very different world emerges. A world of scavengers, drunks, prostitutes, gangsters. A world of privilege and oppression, of aspirations and politics. By now, the reader doesn't care about the language. It is the only vocabulary anyone possesses to be able to effectively talk about this world.
The English translation makes Baluta a little more palatable, but no less painful. I imagine Jerry Pinto would have been very frustrated at how much of Baluta has been lost in translation.
The slums of Ahmedabad were walled up when Donald Trump visited the city. Perhaps that was all it took to make ourselves pretty for Trump. Ahmedabad was magically transformed into a city without poverty overnight. There are many more such walls beyond which, I promise you, we will never see. This translation is a humble peephole.
July 22, 2019
Insightful and enlightening read! Daya Pawar strips the good of Indian culture and shows us his uncensores and naked truth of a highly discriminative and currupt environment that creates hatred and mistrust and turns people against each other, including himself. He reminds us how dependent we are on the opinion of others, and how culture and traditions may slave us in our own societies.
I admire him for his jouney and how he freed much of himself considering his possibilities and upbringing. It gives me hope that some people may still be able to escape their destiny in a way.
I gave 3 stars only because the writing is a bit chaotic. I understand that this may be part of its character yet at times it is difficult to keep up. He takes you on a journey of his unorganised thoughts, sometimes making me want to stop and lean back, simply because he lost track - or possibly I did.
I admire him for his jouney and how he freed much of himself considering his possibilities and upbringing. It gives me hope that some people may still be able to escape their destiny in a way.
I gave 3 stars only because the writing is a bit chaotic. I understand that this may be part of its character yet at times it is difficult to keep up. He takes you on a journey of his unorganised thoughts, sometimes making me want to stop and lean back, simply because he lost track - or possibly I did.
April 20, 2023
हे आत्मकथन वाचताना घडणाऱ्या त्या वास्तवाच्या दर्शनाने | दगडूसारख्यांना आपण तसबिरी तली माणसं का वाटत असतो, याची जाणीव पांढरपेशांना झाल्याशिवाय राहणार नाही. हा केवळ आर्थिक दारिद्र्याचा प्रश्न नाही. नुसत्या दारिद्र्यामुळे सोसाव्या लागणाऱ्या ओढाताणीचा अनुभव मध्यमवर्गीयांनाही असतो. पण भयानक दारिद्र्याच्या जोडीला समाजव्यवस्थेने अस्पृश्यांवर जन्मकाळापासून ते प्रेतदहन किंवा दफनापर्यंत जनवरांपेक्षापेक्षाही भयंकर असे जे हीनत्व लादलेले आहे आणि त्यामुळे क्षणोक्षणी ज्या भीती खाली त्यांना | थरथरत्या अवस्थेत जगावे लागते, त्याचा ह्या आत्मकथेत येणारा प्रत्यय वाचकाला हादरून टाकणारा आहे आणि ह्या कथेचे मोठेपण असे की वाचकाने असे हादरावे म्हणून जाणूनबुजून कसलाही प्रयत्न येथे केलेला नाही. मराठी भाषेचे एक अत्यंत ताप, सरळ रूप पाहण्यासाठीसुद्धा 'बलुतं' वाचावं. वास्तवाच्या दर्शनाला अलंकाराची गरज नसते. घाव बसल्यावर रक्त भळभळ वाहात जावं, तशी ह्या पुस्तकातली वाक्य वाहत चाललेली आहेत.
December 30, 2023
Baluta is the first Dalit autobiography. The act of self writing by Daya Pawar is honest, too honest at times that it makes you uncomfortable, but then it’s meant to make you uncomfortable especially the Savarnas. Unlike other Dalit autobiographies that I have read, Baluta is not a misery memoir. It’s a punch in the gut, remarkably compelling narrative about the life of Dalits in Maharashtra. It’s more importantly also about Daya Pawar’s love for reading, poetry and literature.
The only thing that bothered me while reading the book was that it was too incoherent and kept on jumping from one anecdote to another. Like I was on a rug and was being pulled from one corner to another. But then I have read The Aesthetics of Dalit Literature, so this complaint of mine doesn’t stand much ground.
The book is raw, unsentimental and a must read for Savarnas.
The only thing that bothered me while reading the book was that it was too incoherent and kept on jumping from one anecdote to another. Like I was on a rug and was being pulled from one corner to another. But then I have read The Aesthetics of Dalit Literature, so this complaint of mine doesn’t stand much ground.
The book is raw, unsentimental and a must read for Savarnas.
November 16, 2025
Set in rural Maharashtra, this autobiography by Pawar narrates the struggles ,pain and the evils of the caste system as he experienced them. Pre and post Ambedkar,the reforms that had the Dalits fighting for the basics ,to live a life of dignity.
By no means is it a easy or fast read,Baluta is a graphic depiction of the lives of the Mahars,politics and more.
Basics like food,food habits ,shelter, a visit to a temple,education or even occupation caused such massive divisions in society.The rules were so rigid. If one finds all this unbelievable, I would opine that consider ourselves privileged ,because privilege can be invisible to those who have it,an unearned advantage,in this case simply by where you are born.
By no means is it a easy or fast read,Baluta is a graphic depiction of the lives of the Mahars,politics and more.
Basics like food,food habits ,shelter, a visit to a temple,education or even occupation caused such massive divisions in society.The rules were so rigid. If one finds all this unbelievable, I would opine that consider ourselves privileged ,because privilege can be invisible to those who have it,an unearned advantage,in this case simply by where you are born.
August 25, 2025
Daya Pawar is a raconteur par excellence. His skill at narrating all those stories from his life is simply unparalleled. As you turn each page, you alternate between smiles and painful grimaces. That the narrative is devoid of even an iota of self pity makes it all the more gut wrenching. And he displays incredible honesty when narrating certain instances that show him at his weakest.
It’s absolutely disgusting that caste-based discrimination is still prevalent in our country. No civilized country should tolerate this.
Jerry Pinto deserves our gratitude for bringing such a powerful book to English readers. His translation is impeccable.
It’s absolutely disgusting that caste-based discrimination is still prevalent in our country. No civilized country should tolerate this.
Jerry Pinto deserves our gratitude for bringing such a powerful book to English readers. His translation is impeccable.
March 26, 2025
I really struggled to get into this book, as this was a translated book - lots got lost in translation and I ultimately could not fully appreciate the book sadly.
Baluta shines light onto the Mahar community, who are “untouchables” from the low caste. It also underlines Dr Ambedkar and his role with this community of people, how he encouraged a change of religion to escape. The mahars are a marati community who historically undertake various forms of unpaid labour for the local village eg skinning and disposing of dead cattle - in return for a share of the village produce (baluta).
Baluta shines light onto the Mahar community, who are “untouchables” from the low caste. It also underlines Dr Ambedkar and his role with this community of people, how he encouraged a change of religion to escape. The mahars are a marati community who historically undertake various forms of unpaid labour for the local village eg skinning and disposing of dead cattle - in return for a share of the village produce (baluta).
June 25, 2024
बऱ्याच दिवसापासून बकेटलिस्ट मध्ये असलेलं हे पुस्तक आज पूर्ण केलं. बलुतं म्हणजे दुसरं तिसरं काही नसून महारांनी इमान इतबारे सवर्णांच्या केलेल्या वर्षभराच्या चाकरीच्या मोबदल्यात मिळालेली भिक होती. स्वातंत्र्योत्तर काळातही देशात असलेली जातीय विषमतेची भीषणता ह्या पुस्तकातून अनुभवायला मिळते. काही भाग सोडले तर कथेत कुठेही अतिरेक असल्याची शंका पण येत नाही हि या पुस्तकाची खरी कमाई... प्रत्येक "दलित" व्यक्तीच्या जीवनात थोड्याफार फरकाने हे अनुभव आले असतील तर त्यात मला नक्कीच आश्चर्य वाटणार नाही.
October 12, 2025
अतिशय प्रत्ययकारी आणि सच्चेपणाने लिहिलेले आहे. हे पुस्तक मी खूप वर्षांपूर्वी पहिल्यांदा वाचले आणि आत्ता सुद्धा मला ते तेवढेच आवडले. पुस्तकात काही व्यक्तींचा उल्लेख ambiguous आहे त्यामुळे थोडेसे कळण्यास कठीण होते. लेखकाने मुद्दामहून तसे केलेले असावे वाद टाळण्यासाठी. पुस्तकामध्ये दादासाहेब यांचा उल्लेख आहे ते नीट कळत नाही दादासाहेब रूपवते का दादासाहेब गायकवाड. स्वतःवरती सुद्धा लेखकाने टीका केलेली आहे हा प्रामाणिकपणा खूप आवडला.
February 13, 2020
Excellent... At some point after reading some portion you keep book aside and start thinking about it... This book really make you think... It explains the Struggle of Dalit people at that time... Some of the points are even experienced by me about Dalit during my childhood...
May 5, 2021
This book is about discrimination between the people back in days just because they have different cast. Real expressions of someone's life. Everyone should read this book to know about how lucky we are living in today's society that almost ended the this sensitive castism topic.
December 12, 2022
८० च्या दशकातील विषमतेवरील अनुभव असूनही बरेचसे कालानुरूप बदलेले पण आजही आढळणारे आहेत. निव्वळ जातीविषयक नाही तर वय, स्त्री-पुरुष, धर्म, नोकरी, गावरहाटी, शहरातील आर्थिक मिळकत या सर्वच स्तरांवरील भेद आणि तणाव लेखकांनी समोर आणला आहे.
March 25, 2024
It has to be one of the most honest and powerful writings I have read. Daya Pawar shares the vulnerabilities of other people and more importantly about him. To have such a strong ability to self-reflect is rare. His writing moves you. It truly is a revolutionary book for its time.
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