Three years ago, Director Ranjit made a statement that untouchability in India hasn’t been eradicated but has merely transformed into more subtle forms. He highlighted how something as simple as the choice of a drinking vessel, once a glass cup, now a disposable paper cup, reflects this ongoing discrimination. They have recently gained traction again, sparking debate. Despite the backlash, I find myself in full agreement with his perspective. My experiences during my rides across Tamil Nadu have only reinforced the unsettling truth that untouchability is far from extinct, it’s just wearing a new disguise.
In the course of my travels through Tamil Nadu, a state that boasts an impressive literacy rate, I’ve encountered firsthand the subtle ways in which discrimination persists. During two separate rides, I stopped for tea in rural areas, once in the interior part of Tirunelveli and once in Ongur, close to Tindivanam, while not completely isolated, were far from urbanized. What initially seemed like an ordinary stop quickly turned into a moment of harsh realization.
On both occasions, I was served tea in a glass cup, a routine act that initially seemed insignificant. However, as I looked around, I noticed something that didn’t sit right with me. A group of men, presumably locals of higher social standing, were served their tea in traditional South Indian dabbara sets, a sign of respect and hospitality. In contrast, laborers and farmers, whose appearance and attire suggested a different social class, were handed disposable paper cups.
At first, I could not make sense of what I was witnessing. It was only after observing the scene more closely that the pattern became clear, the type of cup you were served in was not random, it was determined by your perceived social status, likely influenced by caste or class. This subtle act of discrimination was a reminder that despite our claims of progress, the old hierarchies still exists.
It’s alarming to think that in a state where education is celebrated, such blatant discrimination still occurs, although in a more refined form. Education was supposed to be the great equalizer, yet here it seems to have merely polished the tools of prejudice. In rural areas, the discrimination is undisguised, but in urban settings, it hides behind a thin guise of civility. What we are left with is a disturbing question, have we truly abolished discrimination, or have we simply become better at disguising it?
The tendency to overlook these acts is another layer of the problem. When I shared these experiences with others, many dismissed them as trivial, even amusing. They could not comprehend that something as mundane as a tea shop encounter could reveal such deep seated societal issues. This ignorance, whether intentional or born of indifference is perhaps the most dangerous form of denial. It allows us to cling to the illusion that untouchability is a relic of the past, when in reality, it has simply adapted to the times.
It’s easy to talk about global issues and engage in lofty debates about politics and society but the real test of our progress lies in the everyday interactions that often go unnoticed, the local tea shop politics that tell a much darker story. We must confront the reality that our fight against discrimination is far from over. We have merely dressed it up in new clothes, hoping it will go unnoticed. But for those who experience it daily, no amount of disguise can hide the truth. Discrimination is still very much alive. May this be a wake-up call to those who think discrimination does not exist.
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