Dr. Ambedkar informed Baroda officials through a telegram that he was arriving.
It delighted Sayajirao Gaekwad. He knew about the progress of Bheemrao Ambedkar, his protege. And the protege, Dr. Ambedkar had rightly dedicated his thesis that got him Ph.D. degree from Columbia University to the Baroda king in the words—‘Dedicated to the king of Baroda, His Highness, Sayajirao Gaekwad in gratitude for his help in my education.’
Dr. Ambedkar had sent a copy of his thesis to the king. Sayajirao Gaekwad ordered his Chief Secretary (Deewan) to appoint Dr. Bheemrao Ambedkar in the post of ‘The Military Secretary to the King of Baroda’ on a monthly salary of Rs. 2000 only. That was a fabulous sum.’
His chief Secretary winced. 2000 rupees indeed! That’s crazy, he thought.
Sayajirao Gaekwad instructed the officials, “Our Bheemrao Ambedkar is coming back from America having become a great man, a Doctor. Give him a big reception at the railway station befitting his fantastic achievements.”
The officials listened silently with an expression of disapproval on their faces. So what if he has become a Doctor? He was a Mahar, is a Mahar and will remain the same Mahar, their minds hissed.
The officials thought it below their upper caste dignity to go the railway station to receive an untouchable, a Doctor he may be.
Dr. Bheemrao Ambedkar found no one at the railway station to receive him. He was puzzled. Didn’t the officials get my telegram, he wondered. His brother had also accompanied him. They hired tonga and went to a Parsi guest house.
Next day, Dr. Ambedkar met the king. They talked about his years in America and his impressions about that country. The king was unaware of the misdeeds of his officials. He was under the impression that Dr. Ambedkar had been accorded a proper reception. The king told the Doctor about his appointment as the Military Secretary. The State Secretary (Deewan) duly handed Dr. Ambedkar his appointment letter and asked him to start work from the very next day.
The appointment letter didn’t say anything about house or quarter for him. He didn’t ask about it out of modesty. So, he decided to stay in the guest house till he had sought clarification.
The next day, Dr. Ambedkar joined his duty. He was allotted a cabin. He took his seat and waited for the files or paper to arrive for him to start work. A peon appeared and he tossed a file on his table from a distance. Dr. Ambedkar was taken aback.
He sharply asked, “Is that the way to place a file on the table?”
“Sorry sir. I can’t come near you because you are an untouchable as I have been told. I am an upper caste,” the peon informed mockingly.
Dr. Ambedkar was shocked. Back in India only a few days and the ugly caste games had begun to confront him.
He controlled his anger. ‘Do you know what is my rank here and how qualified I am?’
“I know. You are Military Secretary and a Doctor. But that does not change the fact that you are a born Mahar, an untouchable caste.”
“Is caste all that matters to you?”
The peon revealed his upper caste wisdom, “Yes sir. The caste is the most important thing in life. One must do the deeds fixed by Vedas and Puranas for each caste. It is order of God. Dharma depends on it. If we violate caste rules the world will fall down into Pataal lok. And please sir, don’t try to hand me any file. Put it at the corner of the table. I will pick it by stretching my arm.”
“How wonderful!” Dr. Ambedkar muttered.
A couple of days later he learnt that he would have to arrange for his own water to drink as no peon would serve him water.
Indian mind was too full of caste poison.
One day he came to know that after he left his office in the evening upper caste people used to wash the chair, table and the durrie of the cabin to purify those items. His touch was supposed to have defiled them. The life was becoming an ordeal for him a Ph.D. of Columbia University.
There was more to come. He was finding no accommodation. No one was willing to rent out any house or room to him because he was a Mahar.
One evening when he reached his guest house he found a hostile crowd gathered there. The people were shouting at his brother. As soon as the Parsi owner of the guest house saw him he screamed, “You cheat! You stay in my guest house without telling me that you were an untouchable! Why?”
“You never asked me my caste,” Dr. Bheemrao Ambedkar pleaded.
“You should have volunteered such important information. My guest house is desecrated,” Parsi growled.
Some people were wielding sticks and spitting invectives. One man was accusing him of defiling the whole area with his presence. His luggage had already been thrown out. Dr. Ambedkar and his brother managed to flee from there with their luggage barely escaping the physical assault.
The brothers ran around lugging their luggage along looking for a room. But no one would give room to Mahars. Even the Muslims shied away.
The brothers gave up. Deadly tired and parched with frustration they flopped under a tree with their luggage.
Dr. Ambedkar lamented with tears in his eyes, “Mother India! Is it how you treat your educated sons? Do the noble qualities of so called untouchables amount to nothing?”
Next day, Dr. Ambedkar confided to the king his living problem is sheer desperation. The King Sayajirao was dismayed and a little embarrassed. He asked his State Secretary (Deewan) to find a room for Dr. Ambedkar. The Deewan nodded his head.
Later, he called Dr. Ambedkar for a private meeting. He spoke, “Ambedkar! The king lives in his ivory tower. Here all the officials are against you. They will drive you away somehow or the other even if I find a room for you. But I will become a black sheep. That is the ground reality. See my problem?”
Dr. Ambedkar stared at the Deewan. The hint was clear. He and his brother left for Bombay. Guru Keluskar was anguished at what had happened with Dr. Ambedkar at Baroda. He had a Headmaster friend in Baroda whom he contacted and revealed Ambedkar’s problem. The headmaster offered to accommodate Dr. Ambedkar as his paying guest. So, Dr. Ambedkar returned to Baroda by train. The very thought of letting down Sayajirao was appalling to him.
But at Baroda railway station a shock was waiting for him. A messenger handed him a note written by the headmaster which read—‘Sorry, Dr. Ambedkar! I won’t be able to help you. My wife refused to cooperate when she learnt that you are an untouchable. I am helpless.’
Dr. Bheemrao Ambedkar boarded a Bombay bound train. Later, he sent his resignation letter to Sayajirao Gaekwad explaining the reasons and his helplessness.
Shopping Cart
