Meanwhile Bheemrao had grown up to the age when he must start learning letters. That was another worry for Ramjirao. There was no school in Dhapoli and the area around was upper caste dominated. No school there would admit a Mahar boy. If any school did, it would face the collective anger of entire upper caste communities.
Ramjirao realised that his Bheeva would remain illiterate if they stayed on the Dhapoli. So, he decided to move to Bombay (Mumbai). In Bombay, he rented a room in a Chawl mostly populated by Mahar families. Besides the room Ramjirao needed a job badly to stay afloat. He sought the help of his military connections and he was able to land a job of the guard in P.W.D. godown at Satara. He joined duty and after finding accommodation sent for his family to live with him at Satara.
Ramjirao went to many schools in Satara and adjoining areas to seek the admission of his son. He was turned back everywhere. No school wanted a Mahar boy for fear of upper caste backlash. Lower caste boys were conspicuously non-existence in any school inspite of all schools by law being open to all. Upper caste domination and terror was too prevalent.
But determined Ramjirao didn’t lose hope. Some day, somewhere the luck must smile, he hopefully prayed. He continued to go to school after school. At last, he met success. The headmaster of a school agreed to enrol Bheemrao in his school. And ironically he was a Brahmin but of the rare kind who did not suffer from the caste hatred.
After hearing the tale of woes of the retired Subedar Ramjirao he spoke, “Subedar! We will admit your Bheemrao in this school to make your dreams come true. But you must cooperate and agree to some conditions.”
“Conditions?” Ramjirao’s heart sank.
“Yes, Subedar. You know the situation we are in. Bheemrao would be the only Mahar in the class. The rest of the boys are of upper castes. They are caste conscious. Their parents can create trouble for us. We must avoid that.”
“So, sir?” Subedar was puzzled.
The Headmaster spoke in low tone while his eyes were fixed on something on the wall opposite. “Bheemrao won’t touch any other boy of the class. He will bring his own mat and sit by the side of the door away from the rest of the class.”
Ramjirao stood stunned and speechless. Then, he stammered, “But sir, how will my poor Bheema…”
The Headmaster raised his hand to silence him and spoke in conspiratorial manner, “Ramji, I know that it would hard on your poor son. But try to understand. We don’t need any trouble from the parents of the upper caste boys. Do we? The important thing is Bheemrao’s education.”
Ramjirao dumbly nodded his head and said some words of thanks to the Headmaster. Before he departed the Headmaster reminded him, “Bring your son tomorrow morning after explaining the situation to him and with his mat.”
For a long time the Headmaster kept staring at the door frame emptied by the figure of Ramjirao. He scratched his forehead several times to break up the lines of worry that kept forming there. Was it wise to stick his neck out for a Mahar boy?
Retired Subedar went home wondering how he would explain it all to little Bheeva. Somehow he tried to tell his son the importance of education for him and going to school. And he explained the conditions he was to abide by.
Bheeva looked at his father with uncomprehending eyes. He could not understand the implications as he had so far lived in Mahar neighbourhoods and colonies sheltered from caste hatred. The school would be the place where he would suddenly face the fury of casteism.
As instructed, Bheemrao sat on his mat by the side of the door of the class room. He looked at the other boys who sat on benches away from him. He failed to understand why he was being treated differently. It was a big puzzle.
Some boys were laughing and mocking at him. He could hear some of the remarks being made directed at him. One remarked, “That boy over there is untouchable wretch. Mahar!”
‘Mahars are worse than dogs.’ Another said and spat on the floor. Thus, through cruel words Bheemrao was made to understand that he was no normal human being but a lowly creature. The other boys would stay away from him as if he were plague. It hurt Bheemrao deeply.
Some teachers felt very sorry for him but they could do nothing, being hostages of caste ridden society. Bheemrao would reach home with his soul wounded and eyes tearful. His father Ramjirao would console him by hugging and advising him to concentrate his mind on studies and forget about everything else. But was it possible for a small boy?
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