Anand Patwardhan’s documentary, “JAI BHIM COMRADE”, is a gut-wrenching tale of caste atrocities unleashed in Mumbai. The documentary is in the form of a musical historical journey that reflects a rich and dense study of the socio-economic-political movement fighting against caste system, with its discriminatory beliefs and atrocities. The Dalits and their comrades must confront police corruption, degenerated politics and the ongoing repression. Throughout the film, the main thread of culture and religion permeates powerfully, through popular poetry, song, music, and street theatre. The film explores and vaporizes one of the best examples of cultural and political struggle in Dalit history.

It begins by quoting the closing scene from Bombay: Our City in 1985, of Vilas Ghogre, the Dalit singer and poet, in order to question the moment of his suicide in 1997. The film was made over an oppressively stormy period of over 14 years. To grasp the tragic essence and dimensions of these events, the film presses fast forward to 2011, even as it travels back into the 1970s, to evoke the era of the Dalit Panthers.   It is a passionate tribute to Dalit singer, Vilas Ghogre.

Although Jai Bhim Comrade is not translated into English, it is possible to approximate a translation. ‘Jai’ translates as ‘Victory’, as a cry of Victory to the liberation struggles of the Dalits. ‘Bhim’ is the affectionate abbreviation of Bhimrao, the first name of Dr Bhimrao Ambedkar, ‘Comrade’ stands for Vilas Ghogre, the Dalit Marxist whose suicide triggered the film. The term ‘Comrade’ evokes solidarity, but also alludes to the tensions between Ghogre and the Communist Party, between Ambedkar and the Congress Party and the Dalit movement’s unresolved argument with Communism. Each word in the title thus alludes to longstanding debates over the legacy of Ambedkar. Everyone in the film is struggling over this political and religious inheritance that takes on an aesthetic dimension.

The documentary begins in the year 1997, when on July 11, the Dalits (the lowest rung of the Indian caste system) of Ramabai Colony in Mumbai witnessed a chilling massacre. A statue of Dr. B. R. Ambedkar had been desecrated, and the Dalits living there came out to protest against the tainting of their saviour’s image. In order to stop them, a State Reserve Police team was sent out. The police fired at and killed ten Dalits and injuring twenty six, a horrifying event which took the lives of innocents.The incident was subsequently covered up by the police through accusations that the community had set a truck on fire and that the police were acting in self-defence. Ghogre went back to Ramabai Colony after the Dalit killings, and the horror of the event left him scarred. Four days later, Vilas hung himself in protest.

The filmmaker visits the Ramabai neighbourhood to interview the eye witnesses, the police, the families and comrades of the victims. He traverses a journey into the unruly police and archaic judicial system. The film documents and builds a defence, interviewing witnesses, recording testimony, and locating original footage of the events, all of which contradict the official police version. The police will eventually, seven years later, lay charges of attempted murder against those who were injured in order to claim that the officers had acted in self-defence. After a long process of court battles and appeals, the police officer is found guilty, but instead of being taken to jail, he is taken to the hospital.

 We meet Dalit garbage collectors, young men, almost naked, explaining they are working twelve hours a day for a pittance. They bare their injuries and wounds and show us how they work without protection. Even though the Supreme Court ordered the garbage company’s owners to provide them with rubber boots, the company hired more lawyers to appeal the decision. One indignant man stated that before they created a union, two years prior to the interview, they didn’t even have water on site and were thrown out from restaurants because of the smell they carried from the disposal site. The conjunction between long-lasting socio-­religious discrimination and the film’s particular illustration of present working conditions makes the image track even more compelling and disturbing. Because caste discrimination structures labour and educational opportunities, the Dalit are more likely to stay in particularly dehumanizing conditions of exploitation.

The film makes reference to several atrocities that Dalits face like murder, kidnapping, sexual and physical assault, parading naked women, torching dwellings, and tainting water wells with faeces. As the film states in captions, “According to official government figures, on an average two Dalits are killed and three raped every day across India.” The 1989 Prevention of Atrocities Act was meant to punish acts of violence, intimidations and public humiliations committed against Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes. By leading its own parallel “investigations” and documenting incomplete cases, the film shows how the Act’s non-­implementation serves to create another set of injustices.  Indignation is used as a political tool to sway political masses, while individual perpetrators and systemic factors continue to operate. The failure of the justice system occurs at many levels and in many forms: poverty and social vulnerability meet corruption and a slow judiciary. The role of the state in perpetuating the unequal social relationship and injustices are well institutionalised here.

The film explores the hostility of the world towards Dalits, it makes explicit how certain prejudiced statements derive from particular political and social contexts. The political and caste rallies are probably the strongest episodes showing these worlds in the film. For example, at the rallies and celebrations of the Chitpavan, a Brahmin caste, discourses about the strength of this group’s genes and other castes’ implied weakness abound. In a rally of Marathas proudly chanting slogans about their historical power, a man proclaims that he is ready for a blood bath, ready to fight for reserved places “stolen” by the Dalits. The documentary juxtaposes how a week long celebration of Ganesh Chaturthi is held with pomp and show, but this is conveniently overlooked to a day-long celebration of Ambedkar’s death anniversary ,that is supposed to litter up the entire city This is how the ‘poor’ culture the Dalits is put up for derisive ridicule. What a hypocritical stance of vainglorious bankruptcy reflected on the part of the higher caste.

The film succinctly unfolds that religion is the fountainhead of all evils and miseries that befall the Dalits over the centuries. Religion which is a creature of the Brahminical caste have been so framed, designed, structured and applied, so as to create a huge artificial cleavage between the upper caste and the Dalits To lament, till date despite all affirmative claims by the Government to narrow the gulf, no discernible impact has percolated down to these unfortunates vulnerable, marginalised, downtrodden and highly discriminated Dalits. Religion has created the caste system, further compartmentalised into variegated communities and cultures. This aptly shows that if Dalits are at the lowest end of the vertical hierarchy, they have been placed there and branded by the Brahmins. The aim and objective of this created strategic design of upper and lower caste is amply borne out in the film i.e. they are born to a life of toil and misery and also to serve the caste Hindus. Any effort to breach this delineated caste barrier would be ruthlessly crushed.

Another discriminatory stigma operates through the affirmative policy of reservation, which seeks Dalit integration into the education system and the professional world. However, if the policy’s goal was the eradicate castes and notions of untouchability, the reservation system comes with its own double bind. Many who are not of the lower castes consider this a form of unfair treatment equivalent to “stealing” places in school and places at work.  This effort at redress goes against a meritocratic sensibility according to which excellence should be the ultimate vector for distributing positions; but the meritocratic sensibility also does not take into considerations the conditions that might allow one to perform with merit. Quotas are supposed to be a temporary crutch to integrate vulnerable segments of the population by guaranteeing them a certain number of jobs with better conditions, better education, and new possibilities for participation in the social sphere.

The unfortunate result is that Dalits often end up being known as “the reservation people.” As one young girl puts it: “we actually hate some of the reservation people and we don’t feel like talking to them also.” While these policies ameliorate the conditions of large swaths of the population, it can also foster agitation insofar as interpersonal relations between the castes remain isolated and traditional—except for when it comes time to hire servants.  Through its spiral of interviews, the film approaches the problem from different angles and different “worlds,” showing how religious beliefs are translated into social roles and positions to occupy in society. It is here that we comprehend the intransigence of the problem and the scale of the battles left to fight within religion centric norms.

Towards the end we meet Sheetal Sathe, a revolutionary singer with a powerful voice and a mission to raise awareness among the Dalits. She talks about how they have had to go underground for being labelled as “pro-Maoist”. The film ends with an interview with the mother of Sheetal Sathe and Sagar Gorkhe, who had recently gone underground along with other associates following threats from the police. Patwardhan leaves the documentary open-ended with a lingering fond hope for a better tomorrow and a far better the day after. It is not a cul-de-sac situation in Dalit’s journey in the realms of justice despite all trials and tribulations.

The film presents songs that serve as a transition between different episodes, locations, interviews. The diversity of songs binds daily life to resistance. Protest marching songs are played over scenes of everyday labour. The songs create spaces for “showing,” while the lyrics act as commentary on the moving images. “Listen to the tale of Mother India, people are hungry and depressed.” These lyrics from a song by martyr Vilas are juxtaposed against the state of slums, of people sleeping on hard ground.  Injustice finds expression in the contrast of “lifestyles,” In protest songs of justice, protesters embrace shared words, thoughts, and political projects, singing them out loud.

The film shows us the problems’ magnitude through exploring the systemic beliefs and principles animating caste discrimination, including the “female caste.” It does this both by filming plays put on by Dalit troupes, accruing critical commentary on sacred scriptures, and by showing political leaders’ speeches appealing to and dividing castes. Accessing people’s homes and work places, we glimpse in concrete terms the everyday practicalities and difficulties of being Dalit. The upper castes and classes are shown attending political rallies with immense pride, as well as interviewed on the fly in coffee shops, near colleges, and in the streets of well-to-do areas, sometimes speaking with unnerving overtones of race war. 

But the real story this film tells is that of the Ambedkarite resistance movement for social justice. Patwardhan presents stirring encounters with Dalit and Marxist activists and intimate moments with their comrades, friends, and families.  We slowly familiarize ourselves with the Ambedkarite movement’s mobilization efforts in agitating, educating and organizing—especially through protest, street chant and public theatre.  Fabulous repertoire of songs, staged and street performances that dwell on such topics as the contemporary effects of liberal economic reform, gender inequality, and the fallacy of beauty that rests on skin colour are effortlessly presented.

Operating from within the movement, the documentary serves up criticism at several levels: against caste, religion, superstition, Hindu nationalism, the government, political parties, the police, and everyday perpetrators. An informative and combative assemblage, the film conveys moments of frustration and sustains indignation. While also enabling compassion, stirring hope of better days and strengthening solidarity, it acknowledges people’s struggles in a comprehensive manner.

The credit goes to Patwardhan that despite being a Brahmin, he is far above caste and creed system as he hailed from a liberal family with self-confessed socialist leaning. His film is a challenge to the prevailing national environment where fundamentalism, communalism and casteism are regaining its foothold. It has really been a daunting task and he has emerged as a flag bearer for all those especially the Dalits, who need a leadership to steer ahead in their journey towards salvation of their rights and human dignity, deprived and denied for ages and ages. The movie is a clarion call to regroup and fight against all forms of oppression and discrimination in public space because nobody is prepared to yield an inch without resisting and opposing.

         However, with a sense of trepidation, one ventures to add that while dealing with the issue of reservation to the SC/STs, which highlighted the indignation and anger of the higher caste through interviews, he has chosen to blissfully ignore and avoid the gradual fragmentation and anger within the SCs themselves. The reservation in actuality is being conveniently cornered by an elite class from within, which the Supreme Court has identified as the “creamy layer”. This has led to dynasty perpetuations, who all have been successful to enter and occupy higher place in the society-a class itself. Due to the punctuated discrimination within, a Maha Dalit is also fighting for their existence and space. This is the grim reality and also the other face of the coin.

         Incidentally in Maharashtra, the Dalits have been a reasonably potent force in politics. Ambedkar and a string of other social reformers/activists left an impressionable impact in garnering the Dalit’s consciousness to seek and fight for their rights. The role of religion, though seamlessly reflected in the entire documentary should have also shown the ‘purification’ (shuddhikaran) ceremony of the Dalits by the caste Hindus to bring them within their fold and embrace. This projection would have given a striking punch to the religious process while dealing with the ‘untouchables’ i.e. the Dalits. The fact remains that Patwardhan’s effort in crystallising and highlighting the dilemmas and complexities of the Dalit’s emotive issues have embellished his documentary-making journey to a higher level, that easily found acceptance, accolades and acclaim, not only nationally, but also internationally. A film or a documentary should appeal to one’s sentiments powerfully so that it has a churning effect in the thought process and thereby in consequence bring about affirmative response/action wherever such real life situation arise. Patwardhan has succeeded well and more. He deserves our Big Salute as a Comrade.