The Illusion of Equality
Five books that will shatter the delusion of "we are there "
79th Independence Day!
“I don’t think the caste system still exists in the country.”
“Reservation is outdated… it’s been 20 years.”
“India should be one-religion country…”
“Socialism is outdated.”
Happy Independence day everyone.
I’ve heard the above lines so often they sting—not just because they’re wrong, but because they’re dangerous. After four years spent at the borders of inequality, these claims aren’t innocent; they erase real lives, obscure systemic injustice, and transform denial into doctrine.
Equality isn’t a distant goal—it’s a daily struggle. We must begin with acknowledgment: caste persists, reservation is vital, diversity defines us, and solidarity (not laissez-faire) lights a path toward justice.
Five Books to Read (and Feel) the Struggle
1. When I Hid My Caste — Baburao Bagul
A trailblazing collection first published in Marathi in 1963 and translated into English by Jerry Pinto in 2018, When I Hid My Caste presents ten short stories that refuse to sentimentalize Dalit experiences. Critics hail it as “the epic of Dalits,” with characters who are neither invisible nor silent; they rise in fury, frustration, and unflinching humanity.
Bagul’s protagonists wrestle not only with caste oppression but with their own yearning for dignity. In “Revolt,” a young Dalit man challenges his father’s acceptance of their caste-defined destiny:
“Where is it written that a Bhangi’s son must become a Bhangi?”
His father answers:
“In our poverty. In our Dharma. In our country.”
Yet the son refuses: “If this life has given us only deprivation… why did you educate me?
The title story delivers even more devastation: a Dalit man—who insists he is simply a “Mumbaikar”—is exposed after refusing to disclose his caste and beaten nearly to death. His final act of defiance? Blaming not his attackers, but Manu, the progenitor of caste.
Bagul’s prose is raw, unadorned, and relentless. His portraits of marginal lives—Devadasis, street vendors, oppressed women—do more than narrate suffering; they anoint the oppressed as agents of their own resistance.
2. Annihilation of Caste — B. R. Ambedkar
Originally written as a speech for the Jat-Pat Todak Mandal in 1936 but never delivered—because the organizers balked at his uncompromising critique—Annihilation of Caste stands as one of the most searing political texts of modern India. Ambedkar doesn’t nibble at the edges of reform; he dismantles the very architecture that sustains caste oppression. He rejects “token” acts like inter-dining or symbolic marriages between castes, insisting that these gestures only decorate the façade while leaving the foundations untouched. The true problem, he argues, lies in the religious, cultural, and philosophical underpinnings of caste—specifically within Hindu scriptures—which sanctify inequality. Reform, therefore, is not enough; revolution is necessary, and it must begin by discarding any ideology that justifies hierarchy. Reading it today is unsettling, because you realize how much of his critique still breathes in the present. For me, it’s the kind of text that forces a reader to either look away or radically re-examine the society they inhabit—and once you’ve read it, you can’t go back to polite conversations about “slow change.”
3. My Seditious Heart — Arundhati Roy
Spanning over 1,000 pages and two decades of public life, My Seditious Heart is not just a book—it’s a sustained act of bearing witness. In essays that range from the Narmada Dam protests to the displacement of tribal communities, from the violence of Hindu nationalism to the ironies of global capitalism, Roy writes with the moral precision of someone who refuses to look away. She takes on issues most writers skirt around, like the militarization of Kashmir, the environmental devastation caused by “development,” and the invisible ways neoliberalism reshapes everyday lives. Her prose is lyrical yet unflinching, making you linger over a sentence even as it cuts into your comfort. There’s a defiance in the way she refuses neutrality—reminding us that to write without taking a side, in the face of injustice, is itself a political act. Personally, I see this book less as a “collection” and more as a map of India’s moral crossroads; every essay feels like a warning flare in a long, dark night.
4. Azadi: Freedom. Fascism. Fiction. — Arundhati Roy
Written between 2018 and 2020, Azadi is Roy in her most urgent, fire-breathing form. These nine essays document a turbulent India, where democracy’s promises buckle under the weight of majoritarian politics, economic inequality, and state violence. She writes of language as both a tool of liberation and an instrument of control—how words can be bent to carry propaganda or resistance. The pandemic essays are particularly haunting, as she reframes COVID-19 not merely as a public health crisis but as a “portal” through which we can step into a different future, if we have the courage to imagine it. She doesn’t offer easy hope; instead, she sketches the stark choice before us—cling to a collapsing world order or invent something radically humane. Reading Azadi felt, for me, like standing in a storm with someone pointing out both the wreckage and the possibility of rebuilding. It’s not comfort literature—it’s a challenge. Roy writes:
“Historically, pandemics have forced people to break with the past and imagine their world anew… It is a portal… We can choose to walk through it… ready to imagine another world.”
5. Vultures — Dalpat Chauhan
I picked up Vultures on a friend’s warning—it would haunt me. It did. Based on the real-life murder of a Dalit boy by Rajput landlords in 1964 Gujarat, Dalpat Chauhan’s novel follows Iso, trapped in caste-bound labour, whose secret love for a landlord’s daughter leads to violence. The writing doesn’t scream—it seeps under your skin, showing how caste still kills, quietly and efficiently. I had to pause often; the book forces you to confront hard questions: Who do we call leaders? How much of our privilege is inherited? Why do some cry over the 2% of Dalits who’ve risen while ignoring the millions still crushed? If you want to understand caste not as a theory but as a living wound, read Vultures.
Why These Books Matter More Than Ever
They rupture comfort zones. These aren’t historical footnotes—they reflect living realities.
They dignify struggle, refusing to sanitize pain. They give voice to the silenced.
They demand systemic transformation. Not pity nor reform, but change anchored in justice.
Final Thoughts
Read fiercely. Let these words unsettle you.
Talk recklessly. Bring them into dinner conversations, classrooms, and trains.
Act thoughtfully. If education is the seed, then understanding inequality is how it blooms.
Let me know if you'd like this reframed into a series, newsletter editions, or tied into current events. Change begins in mind—together, let's keep thinking, and then doing.