In Tamil Nadu, hazy histories make good politics

The Dravidian movement owes much to history, or to a particular reading of history, as some critics would say it. It has constructed an identity politics based on the premise that Tamils are historically an ethnic group quite apart from Hindu India.

Since then, it has become a practice for groups and parties to invoke history — real, hazy, written, oral and false — for the purpose of constructing identities. It is a practice that likely has its roots in moves by the DMK and the AIADMK to rename monuments, streets, places, transport corporations and so on.

The DMK began by changing the names of places. Madras Presidency was changed to Tamil Nadu by then Chief Minister CN Annadurai and, much later, Madras to Chennai by former Chief Minister M Karunanidhi. The DMK named state-owned transport corporations in the 1960s and 1970s after the Cheras, Cholas and Pandyas — the three kingdoms of ancient Tamil Nadu — to fuel Tamil identity.

In the latter part of the 1970s, after the AIADMK, headed by MG Ramachandran, came to power, some of the district names were changed to bear the imprint of national leaders. Erode became Periyar district, Virudhunagar became Kamaraj district and Vellore became Ambedkar district.

This continued even after MGR. But it wasn’t until the arrival of J Jayalalithaa as a chief minister in the 1990s that the name changing business gained a caste colour. She named Villupuram district, carved out of the South Arcot districts in 1993, as Ramasamy Padayachi district. In 1995, when Tiruchirappalli district was trifurcated, she named one of them as Mutharaiyar district. Both these districts were named after the dominant caste groups of those regions —vanniyars and mutharaiyars, respectively.

Jayalalithaa was the first one to name the transport corporations after prominent historical, and sometimes fictional, icons of a particular caste. The best example is Azhagu Muthu Kone Transport Corporation, then headquartered at Pudukkottai and now coming under TNSTC Kumbakonam. Azhagu Muthu Kone is a historical figure among the konars or yadavas, whose presence is prominently seen in Madurai and Tirunelveli belts.

In 1996, the DMK came to power again. At that time, caste riots broke out in southern Tamil Nadu, and dalits retaliated against upper castes. Dalit caste groups such as pallars demanded the naming of a transport corporation after their historical, and mostly fictional, icons. Karunanidhi acceded to name the present day TNSTC Madurai as Veeran Sundaralingam Transport Corporation.

After naming, born is an icon

Though the name-changing game ended over the years, mostly during the DMK regime, the urge to get the upper hand, in society and politics, got a boost. In 2011, after a police firing at a memorial rally on the occasion of dalit icon Immanuel Sekaran’s death anniversary, the words aanda parambarai (Tamil for ruling class) found a place in the day-to-day vocabulary of upper castes. In 2013, when the tragic love story between a dalit youth, Ilavarasan, and a vanniyar girl, Divya, emerged, those words went viral on social media.

In order to antagonise the upper caste icons, dalits started to find an icon for themselves. To instil pride in the community, some leaders popularised the notion that they too were ‘aanda parambarai’, a former ruling group. Citing this, a section of the devendra kula vellalars — an SC caste group in the state — is demanding that their caste group be removed from the SC list.

A variety of such historical claims are being made and heroes are being rediscovered. Sundaralinga Kudumbanar (pallar), Ondiveeran (arunthathiyar), Dheeran Chinnamalai (gounder), Vellaiya Thevan (maravar) and Kuyili (paraiyar) are such examples.

It is said that Sundaralinga Kudumbanar, also known as Veeran Sundaralingam, was a key lieutenant in the army of Veerapandiya Kattabomman. There are claims that Ondiveeran was a king of Nerkattumseval, which falls in present-day Tirunelveli district, and fought against the British East India Company along with Poolithevan.

Dheeran Chinnamalai is said to be a kongu chieftain who joined hands with Tipu Sultan and fought against the British. Kuyili was said to be a valiant commander in queen Velu Nachiyar’s army and the first woman martyr of India’s freedom struggle.

As these histories were written by the historians of particular castes, mostly through folklore, there are disputes between scholars over whether they are authentic. “It’s true that most of the narratives are based on oral histories. But we need more authentic information and in-depth research to prove it,” says Seenivasan, a professor at the department of Tamil, Sri Venkateswara College, New Delhi. Seenivasan is the author of ‘Dalit Kathaippaadalgal’, through which he traces the life and times of Ondiveeran.

“Histories, particularly of dalits, are rejected time and again by the upper castes because they don’t like to have a dalit history, which is against their own. They are deliberate in suppressing such histories,” he adds. The dominant castes always regarded only themselves as rulers and valiant warriors, so how will they accept or allow others to take that claim, he wonders. Seenivasan is now trying to bring out an encyclopaedia on Ondiveeran.

Drawing fire

Often, such histories invite the government’s wrath. ‘Meendezhum Pandiyar Varalaru’, authored by K Senthil Mallar, founder of Mallar Meetpu Kalam, was the source of one such incident. “Published in 2013, the book was banned by the then state government, which said that the book would cause communal disharmony,” says Sankaralingam, vice president of the People’s Union for Civil Liberties (PUCL). At the time, PUCL extended its support to the author and was against the ban. “The author wrote the book based on folklore songs and oral narrations. He did not follow any procedure needed to undertake a historical research. Academicians who read the book have said that there were no documents that support his theory that mallars, a community also known as pallars, were the heir of the Pandya dynasty,” says Sankaralingam. However PUCL condemned the government’s move to ban the book, saying it curtails freedom of expression.

Who decides what is history and what is myth? asks C Lakshmanan, a professor at the Madras Institute of Development Studies.

“How can we define history? Are written documents alone proof of history? Are all oral and folklore narratives untrue? Were those who documented the upper castes history in writing objective? Is it without bias? These are some questions we need to raise. The new-found histories may be true. But one should be suspicious about any exaggerations,” he says.

Writer PA Krishnan puts the problem into a larger picture: “Each and every caste needs a hero. These kinds of histories are the results of that need.” He insists that since these histories are found through folklore songs, untrained historians and researchers who lack professionalism tend to believe them and give oral narration a lot of importance. “It is important to shed light on subaltern histories and respect them, but exaggerating them will cause damage to the credibility of a group,” he adds.